Sunday, July 29, 2007

Boobilicious

I have a lot of time for random thought and semi-amazement for the hours I nurse Gillian every week. Today, laying next to her in our bed, trying to get her to sleep (she went a little long and was all jacked up), I was thinking about the act of nursing. Have you thought about the fact that nursing our young defines our species as mammalian? I mean, yes we all know we are mammals, but the word 'mammal' comes from a root for mammary, as in milk-making. So, our species is defined as such because of the females among us and our ability to nurse our young with our milk-making selves. From the dictionary:

Main Entry: mam·mal
Pronunciation: 'ma-m&l
Function nounEtymology: New Latin Mammalia, from Late Latin, neuter plural of mammalis of the breast, from Latin mamma
breast: any of a class (Mammalia) of warm-blooded higher vertebrates (as placentals, marsupials, or monotremes) that nourish their young with milk secreted by mammary glands, have the skin usually more or less covered with hair, and include humans -
mam·ma·li·an /m&-'mA-lE-&n, ma-/ adjective or noun

Not only that, but it appears that the word "mamma" comes from the latin for breast. I found this endlessly fascinating. My preferred parental nickname is so chauvinist. In essence I am choosing to be called "breast" for short by my darling daughter, and assuming, any children to follow. Weird.

Wednesday, July 25, 2007

Redefining a marriage

I have known Sean since I was 22 years old. He "wasn't my type", and blah, blah, blah, but we started dating two weeks shy of my 23rd birthday. I think I was mostly crazy back then, with moments of lucidity, but somehow I had the sense not to bolt when I finally found someone who loved me that didn't need me so much (or maybe I got lucky enough that he wasn't phased by my inordinate drama and "kamikaze woman" antics-as articulated so well in Husbands and Wives as, "a woman who self-destructs...into you"). A move to another state and back in a week for school, a graduate program, a REAL job, buying our first house, and a wedding later, we found ourselves in Atlanta.

When Sean decided to make a leap of faith into violinmaking after some serious soul searching about what he wanted for his life, of course I supported him. Luckily, I was able to transfer with my stable job to a place where he could learn the trade, so here we are. Five years here, him learning the trade and me working and going to school, Miss G came along and took us by storm. Having a baby changes things on the relationship front, a lot...even if you've been together almost 10 years when they enter your life.

We have had to redefine our relationship now that we have a child. We are no longer lovers and life partners...we added another massively important title to our bios: PARENT. We fantasized about what it would be like when Gillian came, but it isn't enough to think you know. We couldn't possibly have known what it would be like. It is as amazing as we had hoped, but also as hard as we were afraid it might be...but not for the same reasons we thought it would be hard. The relationship we made with her is brand new (and, I would argue, less complex because of that fact). On the other hand, the relationship we have with eachother must certainly change to accomodate the darling little squatter that has become a permanent resident in our lives. On top of all that, add a "stay at home [mom/dad]" designation for either of us, and things get even more interesting...for the first 6 months G was home, that was me. Now it is Sean.

When I say "redefine your relationship" I don't mean the physical part of your marriage-although that one is important...and many, MANY people neglect that part after a baby. But I mean, the adoration of one another...for us, THAT has been the more intricate part. How do you have enough left at the end of a day to feed your relationship and your partner's psyche with something whole and good? Babies require an exhorbitant amount of your attention, and all of your energy. It is exhausting to give, give, give to the baby all day, or to feel the remorse of absence if you're the one at work (and, no less important, the exhaustion of a 12-hour day of being away from home and coming home to feed, bathe, and put the baby to bed, like I do now-in essence a 14-hour day from start to dinner). A few months back a friend of mine, a stay at home mom, told me the story of how she loved the shower, because in the shower she was all hers, and in the shower "the baby is not [my] problem!!"...in fact, she said she did yoga in the shower, and even ate her lunch in the shower. She said "that is my happy place". I thought "wow"-but not in horror. More like, "wow, what a great idea!". Really-it gets to that point sometimes. By the time 6 pm rolls around, we are just wrecked. Both of us. And then there are nights Sean works after an all day affair with Mis Gillian (double exhaustion)... So, how do you continue to tap into your love energy when you are running low on mental energy (and often physical energy when you are sleep deprived)? We are still working on that, and I will report back when I have enough hindsight to figure out what worked.

Then there's the issue of self-identity..or redefining yourself as a person, and as a parent. This one is as hard as they come. This is why I never get more than 6 hours a sleep a night. Gillian goes to bed between 7 and 8 pm, but I usually don't go to bed until 11pm. Every night I intend to go to bed "and make up for some of my sleep" and every day I find something to do until 11pm. Those magical hours when she is asleep and I am sure she will not be waking up are ME time. Time for me to read, or write, or surf the internet, or watch a movie...just me time. Apparently, this is so important that I would deprive myself of sleep for it, and I have never deprived myself of sleep for anything. Particularly, as Sarah said, with babies because "[you] know it will be years before you can really catch up on those lost hours of precious, precious sleep". I am like a zombie most days. I am exhausted. I could sleep for weeks, if I had the chance. I am sure of it. I wonder if I would sleep if I took a week off with the express purpose of going to bed every night at the same time Gillian goes to bed? (but that would require me to eat BEFORE the "feeding her, bathing her, putting her to bed" routine that takes two hours when I get home). Sometimes I try going to bed at 9 or 9:30 and getting up to pump at 11:30pm...that helps, but it doesn't happen often enough.

And all this is with a darling of a baby who sleeps a 10 hour stretch every night and is generally good natured. I have endless compassion for those poor unfortunate new parents whose baby has "colic" (a completely useless catch-all title for babies who are ultra fussy, kind of like the designation of "flu" for people who don't have "a cold") or food allergies. The strain in a household from sleep deprivation and a baby who never seems happy can put a person on the brink.

In the end I think maybe we are being too stubborn in our desire to raise our child ourselves and not put her in daycare at all. Recently, we reassessed the situation, and have been given an opportunity to nanny share with G's good pal Francie's parents. We have decided to do that two days a week. Sean having two days to work uninterrupted will be a relief for him, and allow him to take the weekends off. So, this part of parenting has been the most challenging for us. Like all things, we will find our groove. In the meantime, we will likely continue to have some growing pains, and, probably for years, some acclimating to do.

Friday, July 20, 2007

How do I love thee?

When you say you love someone, what is it that you love? I have heard people say that it's theway they make you feel when you're with them. Obviously, while you do love you baby for that reason sometimes, oftentimes you also love your baby in spite of the way they make you feel. I consider my earlier thoughts on the matter, and still believe that the early "love" is instinctual, but love for your infant, in it's more common sense, grows slowly over time (like it does with anyone you love). I truly love Gillian more today than I did six months ago, or even a month ago. She is becoming a person...she is such a dear little person. So, besides the adoration I feel for something in miniature (in this instance, a human), this relationship is gaining more substance as we both become rooted in one another.

When I consider what it is I love about her, a few things come to mind: I love her face when she is sleeping, dreaming gossamer baby dreams, her sweepy feathery eyelashes just brushing her cheeks; I love her in her excitement for the everyday things that I have forgotten to be in awe of...that I have allowed to become mundane (I believe this is how children keep you young); I love her for her inherent sweetness and the tenderness she has for other people and animals; I love that she loves to laugh; I love her innocence; I love the way her little head smells; I love when she pulls me to her, by the ears, to give me a sloppy kiss on the nose; I love to watch her dance; I love that in all her frustration it is MY lap that she wants to climb into for comfort; I love the way she looks at me when she is nursing...I love that I could go on for days about the things that I love about her.

I don't mean to insinuate that everything is sunshine and roses all the time. The difficulties of raising her are there, and are mostly logistics and acclimating our relationship from lovers to one of lovers/parents. Those are no small tasks, friends. Make no mistake-parenting is difficult. However, the rewards are many. So many.

I leave you with an example of the random things she finds funny. This video is from a few weeks ago, when Gillian found the sound of our carpenter's nail gun utterly amusing(surprisingly not scary, as loud as it was). I learned to imitate it for her entertainment, of course....the carpenter? He was just confused.


Sunday, July 15, 2007

Happiness is...

Doing a bang-up job feeding yourself! Avocado, once it hits the air, makes the remnants of dinner on a baby's face look even a bit more unsanitary than the usual bath of squash or sweet potatoes. Gillian has become belligerent about feeding herself in the past week (though to make sure she doesn't starve to death, and since her manual dexterity leaves a lot to be desired, I still have to strategize spoon feeding her), so finger foods-here we come!

I have to convey the happy developments of the past week, starting with the most magical and delightful- Gillian can sit in a high chair at a restaurant! If you'll recall our unfortunate experience a few weeks ago in the height of teething (Dinner from Hell), you can appreciate the magnificence of her entertaining herself while we each happily ate a two-handed dinner on our Friday after-work date! What's more- she LIKED it! Didn't just tolerate the chair, but excitedly swung her dimpled little legs back and forth like she might explode with general amicability. It worked to give her 20 or so items to systematically toss off the table before we even had to be bothered to retrieve them! Life is just good when we can eat the food we paid good money for before it gets cold.

For us, the 7th month has been a bustling age. Gillian is saying "mamamamamamama", she's clucking her tongue, and what's more, she is making frog noises. Fussela Fussington (G's teething alter ego), has receded to the shadows, and our happy baby monkey is back and as charming as ever. The two teeth have made it through her gums, but are definitely taking their sweet time coming through all the way. As long as she's not in pain, they can take as long as they like.

Friday we noticed that although Gillian can't move forward yet (the lunges and rocking forward are intact, so this may be around the corner), she pushes herself backwards after lunging forward and leaning on her arms. I know that a couple of G's friends also mastered going backward before moving forward, so we'll take progress however it comes.

Two last things, still getting fine-tuned: Gillian is clapping in delight (and sometimes frustration)-this started about the second week of June, but didn't seem to be associated with anything. Now she does it back when you do it to her, or if she is excited. And she makes sound when she claps-even more exciting! And the last happy thing is that she is beginning to try to wave. She watches her hands intently as she opens and closes her fingers, and has begun trying to do that when you wave at her. Mimicking is so fun! Whep, time to start absolving some of our more colorful words and phrases from our vocabulary. (luckily, we don't use a lot of colorful gestures)

Oh, and as an aside-the world is a much more chipper place with weather like today. Beautiful!

Thursday, July 12, 2007

Pictures

I was looking at old photos this evening and got to thinking. "Look at all those beautiful, young faces"... my grandmother was so stunning, and elegant-so tall and thin. I love this picture where she rolled down her stockings to her ankles, as was the fashion for voguish daredevils like herself. She looks strong, and independent, and resolved-and she always was. Even more beautiful-her reclining as my rakish grandfather lounged back in her lap at a picnic when they were dating-she was wearing long, loose-legged sailor pants. I imagine the luxury of that fresh love, much the way I remember it in a similar picture of Sean and I at about the same age. When she stared back at herself later in life from those lovely old photos, what did she think about that poised young woman? Was she satisfied with the path she chose? With who she had become? Did she look at that photo of my grandfather in her lap after he had passed away, and close her eyes remembering the smell of his clean shaven face as she kissed him a moment after that photo was taken, those many years before? Did the photos trigger the memories that kept her warm until she joined him in ever after?

Looking at pictures of myself from the days of little responsibility, I think "would she like me, who I have become?" I don't think she would have thought we'd be here-all responsible and grown up. I see a face full of youth and endless possibilities when I look at those photos. I never knew how it would be standing here now-all blessed and loved so well. I couldn't fathom the realities of this life when I wrote in my lifelist of things to accomplish 10 years ago, "have a ocean-eyed fairy princess daughter some day". Imagine my joy that she does, indeed, have expansive, giant, expressive eyes. The onus is on me to make sure she is well versed in fairytales.

Pictures are some magical portal back to a specific moment...some particular second that captures something we feel the need to remember. There are so many of those moments when you have child. I don't want to forget them.

Sunday, July 8, 2007

Meeting Uncle Jim

My brother Jim is amazing. He is a fighter. He has had cancer for 12 years, and by sheer willpower, has survived 5 brain tumor surgeries (the last of which left him paralyzed on his left side in 2006). He is only 40 years old. His wife, Dawn, has been with him through all of it...and I thank God for her and her unconditional love for my brother, and her dogged determination to do everything she can for him (which often requires a freakish tenacity and attention to the Medicare/Medicaid system).

Dawn called me last week and told me Jim had a recent MRI, and that the cancer he had last year, the residual tumor left, was back and growing. After talking to his oncologist last Tuesday, I made the last minute decision to fly to Jacksonville and bring Gillian to see her Uncle Jim the next day-on the 4th of July (unbeknownst to him). It was important to me that Jim see Gillian in person, and it was important for me to spend some quality time with him.

Gillian handled the trip like a champ (and so did I, I might add-I did G's first flying trip solo). The flights were ok, given the timing, and she managed to get through being dragged around Jacksonville and spending hours in a nursing home just fine. It was a bright spot in Jim's day to have the squeals and happy sounds of a baby in his room. I always forget, until I'm with him, how funny Jim is, and somehow, through all of this, he has kept his sarcasm, and smart-assed sensibilities that I love so much. The trip was also an opportunity for me to help Dawn set up Hospice for Jim. He is going home Tuesday to be with his family, where he belongs (he asked me, at one point, "Yeah, but am I going home or am I going Home?").

If there is a heaven, where people who have gone ahead wait for you, and where all your bodily challenges and pains are relieved...and where good people are rewarded for being good, then I know a few things:
1) There will be a special place for Dawn, Jim's love, and advocate, and wife of 17 years (who has struggled 10 lifetimes to help him and is just 36 years old);
2) Dad will be waiting to throw some balls with Jim again, and mom will be there to cheer them on (Jim was once a baseball star, and pitcher extraordinaire);
3) When Jim goes Home, there will be a bright new star in the sky for me to talk to and to watch over me.


Sunday, July 1, 2007

Gillian's first sail


Well, Gillian got her sea legs yesterday! Our dear friends Laurie and Burke took us out on their sailboat. Sean met Burke a few years ago when they were both learning to sail with Sail Chicago. It is always great getting out on the Lake. Gillian's very first sail, when I was 4.5 months pregnant, was with Burke and Laurie last year, but it doesn't count because she was sailing the whole time she was swimming around in utero. We were just hoping she didn't get her Papa's motion sickness.

First we went down to the fountain, where I would say thousands of kids every day splash around in the 1 inch of water between two fountains and stand under the fountains when giant projected faces spit water (illiciting shrieks of delight everywhere). G wasn't sure what she thought of all the kids running around wet and happy. She was just fascinated by all the people. (http://www.millenniumpark.org/artandarchitecture/crown_fountain.html)

We headed over to the Taste (http://www.tasteofchicago.us/). It was insanity. Way too many people...and the line for tickets was longer than the Great Wall (bad idea to go to any Chicago festival on a weekend day), so we decided to move on to Monroe Harbor.

Laurie and Burke pulled up and picked us up at the Touch n' Go, and we were off.
Those of you here in the city know that yesterday was clear and sunny and gorgeous. It was a little cool on the Lake, but the visibility was amazing (you could see Gary and beyond). I really don't think there is a more beautiful city in the Summer and Fall than Chicago.





Gillian seemed to have fun, and we enjoyed the sun and being out. She took a marathon nap (I think the bed in the hull must have reminded her of being on the inside-the sloshing and the rocking), steered the boat, fed the geese (and was beyond excited doing it), and generally enjoyed herself. I can say that these are the days I miss when it's mid-january.

There really is no place like our Town.