Gilly's Baby Mama

So, for most of Gillian's short life, she could careless about baby dolls. For example, she prefers to put diapers on or give bottles to her stuffed animals, or pretend to put them on her Ra-Ras (her hands aka monsters), or her feet-basically, anything inanimate that doesn't even slightly resemble a human being. All this nonchalance towards babies has changed the past two days when she suddenly decided it was great fun to nurse her baby doll and give her medicine "for her tummy ache" (we give Addie Zantac for reflux)...she even takes rides on the baby doll stroller that we had to dust cobwebs off of due to neglect (well, you get the point). The medicine, by the way, comes out of a harmonica onto a spoon. Musical elixhir. I like that.

Anyway, this is all sweet and awesome and womanly-reservoir-of-experience of her until you hear who baby IS. Gillian says the baby is me when I was a baby. Huh? She says things like "Mama, you're hungry and want A BOOB" (if you're wondering, NO, we did NOT teach her the word BOOB), or "Mama, your tummy hurts and you need some medicine", or, "Mama, baby you wants to go for a walk. Come with us!". To this initial role playing at playgroup, her buddy AJ looked completely bemused and continued eating his rubber donut in Gillian's kitchen. It is confusing to follow, even for me.

So, I am wondering what the significance of HER taking care of ME is. She only nurses baby me...(there are two more dolls-one is also Baby Gillian, and the other is Addie "as an even littler baby", but they get bottles, not boobies; and even that is few and far between). Only I get to go in the stroller. Only I try to poop on a little pink potty. And what triggered this all of a sudden? Either way, she is finally getting some use out of her pretty baby dolls!

Exhibit A

You Should Be Grateful

This resonated so much with me. For all of you who never quite understood while Gillian's birth was so hard on me...this is posted by the author, Gretchen Humphries, at http://www.birthtruth.org/grateful.htm
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You should be grateful, after all, you have a healthy baby.

How many times have we heard those words? How many times have we said them? It seems so obvious, you wanted a child and now you have a healthy child. You are alive to enjoy that child. You should be grateful. Right?

That phrase (or the similar, "All that matters is a healthy baby") did more damage to me than anything else said to me after my cesarean section. Because on the face of it, it seems so true. My husband and I had struggled with infertility for several years. My pregnancy came after at least 2 miscarriages and drugs to make me ovulate and then to maintain the pregnancy. I had beautiful twin boys. Why was I so upset? Wasn't I grateful? They were apparently healthy and so was I, if you discount the physical devastation of major abdominal surgery on top of the exhaustion taking care of newborn twins brings with it. My recovery was, after all, uncomplicated by medical standards. Physically, I was healing well. Wasn't I grateful?

So many people said it to me, I started to wonder. People I trusted, people I respected, people I loved. Women that had cesarean sections for their children and trumped the advantages of it. Maybe I wasn't grateful for my babies? Maybe I didn't love my babies as much as I should or as much as other mothers did? Maybe I was being selfish and petty to be so upset about the birth and not blissfully happy with my babies---after all, other women seemed to "get over it" so quickly---so quickly in fact that I had to wonder if I was really crazy to think there was anything to "get over." What was the big deal?

Part of the problem was that I actually didn't feel overwhelmingly grateful, nor did I feel overwhelmed with love for my boys. I knew that if anyone threatened them in any way that I'd do anything to protect them. I'd already proven that in negotiating a less traumatic cesarean than they would have normally experienced. I could protect my children but I didn't feel a lot about them. I was depressed. So for several months I wasn't feeling much of anything. It wasn't hard to believe that I wasn't grateful enough, that I didn't love them like I should. But I still had to wonder, even as the depression lifted, why hadn't I 'gotten over it?' What was wrong with me?
Then I began to realize how evil it is to tell a woman who's experienced a physically or emotionally traumatic birth that she should be grateful because when you say that, she hears that she isn't grateful enough for the precious baby she's been given. And that cuts to the quick. She may already be wondering what was wrong with her that she couldn't have a normal birth and now you've told her that she doesn't love her child enough. It is evil to say, "All that matters is a healthy baby," because you are saying that her pain, her damage, doesn't matter. You are telling her that not only is her body broken, but so is her mind. That if she is physically healthy, that's all that matters, and to be concerned with anything else is somehow wrong. That the means to the end doesn't matter, she is expendable.

The truth is a woman can be absolutely grateful and full of passionate mother love for her child and be enraged by how that child came into the world. Hating the birth, hating what happened in that cold impersonal operating room or delivery room has nothing to do with the child. It is possible to be both full of rage and full of love. When that rage is turned inward, a woman is depressed, and likely to believe you when she hears you tell her she's ungrateful and unloving toward her child. And if that rage turns back outward, it will spill over to you, because you told her a lie and she believed it because she trusted you. If that rage stays hidden, it will fester, and eventually there will be a place in that woman's heart where she no longer goes, because it just hurts too much and makes no sense. Good mothers just don't have those feelings, and she's already afraid she isn't a good enough mother. And so she loses something precious, and so do we all.

I discovered that there are a lot of women out there who hated the birth of their child; women who had bad surgeries, women who had good surgeries, rarely women who had necessary surgeries, women who didn't have surgery at all but did have horrible things done to them in the name of birth. I'm not the only one. There is a vast hidden ocean of pain in women who've had horrible births but do love their babies and continue to wonder, "What is wrong with me? If I just loved my baby enough, I wouldn't feel this way."

I was freed by the knowledge that there is nothing wrong with me! I underwent the surgical removal of my children from my body---a procedure that has nothing to do with birth, that completely circumvents what my woman's body is made to do. If it felt like an assault, then it was an assault, a very sexual assault. And if I'm not upset about being assaulted, then there really is something wrong with me. And that nothing that was done to me has the power to keep me from loving my children with passionate mother love.

I am grateful, grateful beyond words for the blessing of my children. They are miracles. The day they were taken out of me was one of the worst days of my life. Yet I am grateful for them, though not for what was done to me. My physical body might have recovered well enough to be called 'healthy' but my spirit was deeply wounded and then neglected. I was not healthy. I know my children suffered because of that. I have a lot to be grateful for but not for their birth, never for their birth. Understanding and accepting that makes me truly healthy. Admitting the horror of their birth frames the love I have for them in a way that astonishes me----amazed at what I went through because of my love for them, I now know I really would die for them if needed.

Now, when you tell me that I should be grateful, I realize that you are showing me how frightened you are. That you are afraid to look at my pain. That you are afraid to admit that maybe I have good reason to be angry, that maybe women are truly assaulted in the name of birth. You are telling me that it's okay for women to have birth ripped from them, that it isn't acceptable to look for a better way or to mourn what was lost. I know you now. You may not know yourself, but I do. And I pity you.

Le Petite Fleur

Irony. Addie has a hand-me-down floral onesie that, in tiny letters, on a tiny piece of material in the middle of the chest, says "Le Petite Fleur", the little flower. Oh, how I laugh to hear my little flower being so not a little flower, particularly when she's wearing that precious outfit. You see, Addie could quite possibly be the Gassiest Baby Who Ever Lived. She spends hours each day writhing in agony, legs pulled up, face red with effort, blood vessels bulging from her bald head, grunting these gutteral, gravelly, horrible grunts. The grunting sounds like I must have sounded in labor with her, or maybe the way a 250 lb man might sound making a monster poop. Sometimes she makes toots, sometimes toots with accompanying loud, blowout-style poops. Sometimes these relieve the discomfort, sometimes not. Mylecon and Gripe Water don't seem to do much, and my diet doesn't seem to make a difference thus far. I did note in a video of Gillian at the same age, that Gillian "made sounds like this [grunts] or cries" for 6 hours a night starting at 5pm, which makes me feel a little better. But Addie can grunt herself hoarse. Pobrecita!

Gillian calls her "the little tooter". Papa calls her "motorboat". Whatever the nickname, her efforts don't make her the posterchild for the Emily Post Institute, but I digress. MY little flower knows what she has to do to take care of business, and I am proud of that. I wish her little tummy didn't so obviously hurt with such frequency, but I think that is the lot of the newborn.

So, if you happen to be holding her when she contorts her precious face in pain, and graces you with a toot or a full scale blowout, don't say I didn't warn you. Addie is hard core. I remember several instances where Gillian had blowouts at inopportune moments which covered her or both of us in mustard poo, and I am not the only one. The poo gets everywhere, so runny-but-elastic and adherent it is. On my sleeve? How did THAT get there? On my elbow? How did that get there? On the back of her head? SHE REALLY NEEDS A BATH and How did THAT get there? Every day, a new wonder.

And I just noticed some Addie-induced tell-tale mustard stains on my shirt. Awesome. How does it escape these diapers?

*sigh* I forgot this delightful part of parenting a young baby.

POOP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

As of three days ago, Gillian, for the most part, is now peeing AND pooping in the potty!!!!!!!! There are so many benefits to pooping on the potty. It's cleaner (less wiping, though she still prefers baby wipes on her delicate backside), which we all like. She noticed one yesterday looked EXACTLY like a snake (her words). Today, there was a mama snake and three baby nuggets in the potty at Chipoltle (a public potty, no less; my girl is not pee shy!). So, not smooshed against one's bum equals being able to see the shape God gave it. What's not to love there? Position is hand down better sitting over an open hole than standing with legs slightly apart, or God forbid, sitting with the diaper on! And, as Papa taught her, you can read books if that particular poop requires a bit more concentration and relaxation.

Life is good. With the baby, even. Regression, schmeeshmession.

They ARE listening after all...

This morning, Sean was irritated because he couldn't find his flip-flops on the way to the beach. He made some reference to the fact that he only owns three pairs of shoes, and it shouldn't be so hard to find one of them...

Then our Gillian-so earnestly-said, "I keep MINE in my drawer." She was just sayin', Papa.

Acclimating is no cake walk

We started talking up the whole baby thing 8 months ago to Gillian..or around the time we thought it was safe enough to hope she would stick. I dutifully purchased some not-angry-at-the-new-baby books and one even showed fetal development to help Gillian grasp the whole baby-in-belly concept (there are lots of "I hate the baby" books, but I figured we don't need the negativity). The concept was completely abstract for a good long while, but along toward the last month or so, Gillian started acting out a little. I'm not sure if it is because of the age or because of the impending doom of change that is rocking her little world right now. I mean, kids that are almost three are hard to deal with without a family addition. They challenge you, test boundaries and rules, and try to see where your edges are if they push far enough. They need to find the edges so they can reasonably construct a world view that includes norms and acceptable behaviors in their immediate environment.

I was prepared for comments about taking the baby back or not wanting her around, but not for the anger toward me. It makes sense. Constance says to imagine I came home to Sean and found a new wife in our bed, and he said "don't worry, I'll still love you just as much". That kind of betrayal. That is the look I saw, that hurt, when she woke up from her nap, came around the corner, and into my room while I was nursing Addie our first solo day (me and the girls). I wish I could explain express how that ripped my heart right out. So, the acting out included things like pinching me, standing on my feet, digging her elbows into me (on purpose), hitting me, telling me she doesn't want me/to go away, and kicking me. This pretty much started after Sean's dad left, and during the time when his mom was still here. She really enjoyed pushing the limits with his mom here, since she could get away with more...obviously people don't know all your rules when they come to visit, and you can't expect them to want to lay down the law the way you do, so Gillian found a little loophole and went with it. She got to the point at the end of Suzi's stay where she was holding her poop and pee until she was in physical pain and for about 10 solid days said, all day long, "My tummy hurts" and ran to Suzi saying "hold me" or "rub my tummy", which happened, reinforcing Gillian to keep complaining (attention, even bad, is still attention). She began refusing naps and bedtimes, saying she didn't want to go to sleep, wasn't tired, and pulled out all the stops procrastinating going to bed. She would get out of bed 5-10 times and was throwing fits for 1-2 hours at bedtime. She was getting up between 1-5 am and going to Suzi's room to sleep with her. She lost her ability to self-soothe.

Suzi was here for three weeks, and was a tremendous help to us (I honestly don't think I would have managed even half as well without her). The mistake we made is to try to let her fill our roles almost completely, because that is usually what Gillian wants during Suzi's visits (and it's not usually a big deal for a long weekend/typical visit). I was working or running around tying up loose ends, and Sean really was busting his tail working when he could do crazy long hours. Had we tried harder to maintain Gillian's normal schedule, with me giving her a bath and putting her to bed, it would have helped...also, we didn't do our normal morning snuggle time/breakfast together, and she wasn't seeing her babysitter/kids three days a week. This further fragmented normalcy for Gillian, even before the baby came. I knew Suzi enjoyed doing all these things for Gillian, and we were happy to let her do them so we could rest and work, but looking back, we should have been more present for her. She probably felt abandoned even though she told us she wanted Nonni for just about everything.

Suzi left, Gillian now spends three days a week with Anna and the girls, and we had started dosing Gillian with Miralax in her evening milk sippy before that to make the poop unavoidable and not too painful to pass, so the poop issue started to work itself out with daily events...Sean and I now make sure I am available to Gillian for a morning snuggle that is just us (Addie is with Sean), and each of us has some alone time with her every day. We have had to rework bed and naptimes completely, and we are not having the trouble with getting her to sleep now that the routine is back in force. For the past three days, Gillian has stayed in her bed until 7 am, which is wake up time. Before that, if she woke up in the middle of the night, Sean was allowing her to stay in bed with him since I am currently sleeping in the guest room with Addie-in an effort to make me the only sleep deprived person in the house (we figure it's a delicate balance to require her to stay in her bed alone when the baby gets to sleep with me...so we were trying to give her nothing to oppose).

So, she is eating, pooping, sleeping, and is generally doing better, but we have our moments of 3ishness that are all kinds of trying. Gillian seems to truly have affection for Addie, and we try to encourage that. But she also has moments like when I asked her to get Addie's blanket for me and she said "No!" and I asked why and she said "because I want her to be cold". Time outs got trying for a couple days when she would pee on the floor when she got one (until we gave her the stuff to clean it up herself). But, all in all, we always have to keep in mind how important her routine is to her, and protect it as much as possible. I also don't know if I can quite forgive myself for abandoning Gillian, forcing Suzi to fill in while I was super pregnant...

All I can say is that I look forward to posting about our girls and all the silly things they do together, when they are the best of friends. Until then, we will continue to manage this transition the best we can.