Coming to a Nursery Near You

Archive for the ‘baby’ Category

One of the best things about twitter is the fact that it connects you to so many people that are normally not within your realm.  As such, I happened upon a blog post by Her Bad Mother last week that had my heart pounding in my chest and tears in my eyes, because I could feel her anxiety, her fear, her helplessness.  As I read The Closer You Are to Fine, I became not just a fan, but one of her confidants.  I became her friend, her sister, her neighbor.  I wanted nothing more than to hug her and tell her that she’d be ok – and that her baby would be ok. 

And you can manage the constricted heart and the withholding of breath until you get there, to the hospital, but once your baby – your tiny, tiny baby – has been stripped of his tiny clothes and is laying naked on the hospital bed – a vast expanse of cold sheet beneath his tiny frame – the machines looming, menacing, around him, you struggle. You crouch beside him, cradling his head and nuzzling his cheek, babbling whispers of love into his ear, willing him to not cry, to not squirm, to let this be over, fast.

That’s the stuff of great writing.  That’s why I nominated Her Bad Mother for the June Perfect Post award, made possible by the Letter T, the Number 4 and the friendly folks at Petroville and Suburban Turmoil.
You can visit them to see more of this month’s Perfect Post awards, too.  But before you do, seriously – go read “The Closer You Are to Fine” first (and then her followup).

My Dearest Zachary,

6 months ago, I was preparing for yet another journey. A familiar road that I’ve taken before, with the outcome uncertain, and to be sure, I was scared. It was 9 below zero that night, 6 months ago, when your nannie & pepe snuggled in, nervously waiting for the morning when we’d all go to the hospital – me, daddy, Anthony, Libby and them, to greet our new baby boy. You were busily kicking me that night, as if somehow you knew that your time had come. I worried that you wouldn’t be OK – that throughout the whole pregnancy, something had been missed somewhere, and you’d face a life of difficulty. I worried that I wouldn’t be ok, and that you and your brother and sister, would face a life motherless.

The morning of your birth, we set out to the hospital long before the sun rose. Your brother & sister so anxious to welcome you, they actually bounded out of bed (which is SO unlike them). Daddy & I took a few minutes before waking up the rest of the house to just be alone and reflect on what we were about to do. To bring a new life – a new person – into this world – such a monumental task for two people who didn’t even go to college! (Ok, well, DADDY did, but he didn’t finish yet )

Then the house was a flurry of activity as my lists were checked and rechecked. We paused for one last photo of “the Belly” and your big sister giving you a kiss. As we drove through the cold, snowy morning at a balmy 4 degrees ABOVE zero, I secretly hoped it wasn’t my last time. Once we got to the hospital, things went on autopilot as I was ushered into my room and … prepped (such a un-fun word) to bring you here – to let you outta that little womb without a view. We were so nervous and excited! Another round of kisses and we were off to the operating room – more waiting as daddy forgot the camera in the dressing room – and finally – FINALLY, at 9:04am, Dr. M announced “It’s a Boy!” (which of course, we already knew!) and you were ours. Ours forever.

The past 6 months have been a blur. You’ve grown and changed so much, you hardly look like that little tiny boy who just stared at everyone from the french-fry warmer, not crying, just looking, wondering what all the fuss was about. Now, you’re up and about, working on crawling every time you get up on those hands and knees and rock back and forth. Working on walking, having finally figured out that if you push your body forward when in the walker, You MOVE! Working on joining the family dinner table by trying something new here and there and letting me know with no uncertainly whether you like it or not.

You’re a perfect example of a perfect baby. You’re my baby boy. And thanks to some wonderful work by Dr. M, you’ll always be My Baby

Love, Mama

I got 3 hours of sleep last night. Tell me how a 4 month old baby can make a binky DISA-FREAKIN-PEAR in the middle of the night. TELL ME. Also, tell me WHY I chose to drink that iced coffee with lunch yesterday. Because I am pretty sure that that’s WHY I only got 3 hours of sleep last night. No, the caffeine didn’t keep *ME* up… but it most assuredly kept Zachary WIDE-EYED-AWAKE and babbling. He didn’t go down for the night until midnight. (and I haven’t mentioned it here, but MY BOOBS HURT again, dammit, and I have no idea why.) He got up again at 3. I stumbled out of bed and popped the binky into his mouth (just to hush him up while I went to the bathroom – like I always do). Then upon my return from the bathroom, I picked him out of his basinette and proceeded to nurse him. Only, he didn’t go back to SLEEP. He was sleepy, though, and normally, giving him the binky and rocking him a little does the trick.

The flarkin binky was GONE. It wasn’t in the bassinet. It wasn’t on the floor. It wasn’t in my bed. It wasn’t in the BUCKET. It was NO WHERE. I checked under him, I checked under MY BOOB. I checked EVERYWHERE. Hubby woke up… I checked under him.

Nowhere.

The magically disappearing Binky. dammit.

By 4, he was sleepy enough that I could put him in his bassinet and sneak back into bed. At that exact moment, the little blond-headed girl came weepily into the room, explaining that she was scared. “I’m scared, mama.”

me too.

So, I drove her back to her room, sat next to her and gently rubbed her back, willing encouraging her to go back to sleep. Then the baby started fussing again. Go back to my room to pick up fussing baby (so as not to wake up big, sleepy, grumpy daddy) and little blond-headed girl followed me back.into.the.room.

Ok – go crawl in with daddy. Me, rocking baby boy back to sleep.

Ahhhh… shhhh – both asleep again.

Sneak into the play room, where we have the mattress that was to become her bed, if she’d ever actually sleep in a bed BY HERSELF. no blanket, but there’s a pillow. Yay. I go into the hallway, reach into the linen cave closet and pull out what resembles a blanket.

It’s an infant afghan.

Well, that’ll work – crawl into the playroom, slip into unconsciousness.

For 20 seconds.

Then the woman NEXT DOOR’s alarm went off. Because the windows were open, I could hear it… beep…beep…. Flarkin BEEEEEEP. I dared not climb over the 50 bajillion vcr tapes that have become my children’s play toys to actually close the window, SO I gave up on the fantasy of sleep. Came downstairs with my trust lap top, made a sammich, some coffee and began my blogging day.

I KNEW it was going to be a really crappy day. I KNEW it – because on 3 hrs of sleep, I KNOW ME.

And then…

My heart stopped. I was following links here & there, coming up with “winners” for my previous awards post and somehow, wound up here… And my heart. just. stopped.

To even begin to understand this family’s pain. My heart began beating again, but it aches so bad for this family. These parents. How the hell do you go on?

So today isn’t going to be a crappy day. I’m going to put my computer down, pick up my babies and enjoy the day. I don’t know what we’ll do, but I’m going to try my hardest to not yell, not bitch, not grumble, despite my exhaustion, because damned if I will let what could always be my child’s last moment be one of my “problem” days.

Scenario #1

Mom #1: Oh, he’s such an easy baby. He only nurses for about 10 minutes around 3am, and then he’s back to sleep. He doesn’t even wake up when I put him back into the basinette.

Mom #2: Oh, I used to just bring them into bed with me, nurse them back to sleep and I’d fall back to sleep with them. (because obviously co-sleeping is a MUCH BETTER IDEA!!)

Mom #1: Yes, I did that with my last child, but she wound up sleeping with me for 2 years.

Mom #2: Oh yes, that happens. That’s ok. (why would YOUR comfort matter? You should be thinking about your baby!)

Mom #1: Yes, well…we only have a full-sized bed, so I’d wake up occasionally to find the baby’s arm or leg stuck under daddy because daddy doesn’t realize there’s a baby in the bed.

Mom #2: Oh yes, we have a full-size too. (so you have NO EXCUSES!!)

Scenario #2

Mom #1: Oh, he’s such an easy baby. He only nurses for about 10 minutes around 3am, and then he’s back to sleep. He doesn’t even wake up when I put him back into the basinette.#2

Mom #2: (whistful smile) oh I remember those days. I’d bring them back into bed with me and nurse them back to sleep and I’d fall back to sleep too.

Mom #1: Yes, I love it when that happens.

Why do we feel the need to justify our actions? Tell me that? I have perfectly legitimate reasons for putting my baby boy back in his bed. I LOVE it when he sleeps with ME, but not when he sleeps with both of us. On those nights when I know he’s probably going to be up alot, I let him sleep with me, and hubby sleeps at the bottom of the bed. It’s not all that comfy for HIM, but he does it so that he’s at least nearby if I need him, and I can sleep more if I don’t have to get up out of bed to get him, etc.

But when this mom said that to me, I immediately felt defensive … I *hate* it when I feel like that. Perhaps it’s because she’s a mother x 7, and I’m only a mother x 3. Who knows. She wasn’t being judgemental – she was just chatting. But I still felt defensive. UGH!

Tags: babies, mom guilt, motherhood, parenting

Some miscellaneous questions for my children:

• Why, baby girl, WHY, would you think that putting your really cute kitty cat stickers over both your eyes, then walking
  down the stairs, and coming to find me with said stickers still affixed to your eyes, to tell me that you’d just walked down the stairs with them covering your eyes, but assuring mommy that you held onto the handrail, announcing that you’re not afraid of ANYTHING, would that make mommy feel any better about the fact that you’d actually DONE IT in the first place????
• Why, oldest son, would you be watching The Wizard of Oz on your PC while watching AC/DC Live at Donnington on your DVD player? Did your father teach you this??
• Why, baby girl, have you decided that not only is wearing mommy’s shoes around the house so much fun and leaving them all
  in a pile in the living room, even MORE fun? Is it because you knowthat daddy will then blame it all on MOMMY when he gets home, fueling his assertion that mommy has too many shoes?
• Why, littlest son, have you decided that 4:30 is a perfect time to start your day? Is it because you hear the birds singing? Should mommy find the b-b gun?
• Why, baby girl, do you, upon learning that mommy really really dislikes listening to others chew, take it upon yourself to do said offensive behavior right next to mommy, reminding her that she also really really dislikes the smell of dry fruit loopies? Do you like making mommy turn green? Is that it?
• Why, baby boy, do you wait for your twice weekly poop, for the times when I purposely put you in a new outfit that nannie & pepe’ have sent you? Why not when you have an already poop-stained onesie on? Do you not like their taste in baby clothes?
• Why is it, 2 of the 3 of you, that even though we have 6 rooms in this place, you feel the need to literally play at mommy’s feet?  Why? WHY WHYYYY? *ahem*
• Why didn’t ANY of you remind mommy that feta cheese gives mommy bad migraines???

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