Category Archives: Motherhood

How We Spent Our Third Anniversary

Claire had her six-month check-up yesterday. On her last visit she was 12 pounds, 8 ounces and 24.5 inches tall. She is now 14 pounds, 6 ounces (at last, a little more than twice her birth weight!) and 26 inches tall. If she’d been born in Austin, we’d say she’s got the makings of a long, tall Texan. She is gaining weight, but since she’s also growing longer more rapidly (it seems), she keeps dropping in the weight/length ratio percentiles. Now she fits the 5th percentile (actually a bit less, 4.94%). But she is healthy!

The doctor put her in a sitting position, and Claire was a little wobbly but stayed up. The doctor thinks she’ll be sitting independently in another week or two. Claire recognized the doctor’s office and started to cry once we were in the examination room. I suppose she remembers what happened her last visit — the dreaded shots, which she got again. She cried this time too, but quickly stopped when we showed her the baby in the mirror. 🙂

Claire is fascinated with everything. She tried to grab the doctor’s stethoscope. When the doctor examined her ears, she kept moving her head to see what was being stuck in her head. She babbled up a storm; the doctor said she’ll probably start talking soon. I asked for clarification, and she meant that Claire will be attempting to intentionally make sounds similar to the thing associated with it, such as “mah” for “milk.”

Because Claire is rolling both ways and almost sitting independently, the doctor said it was okay to put a blanket in her crib. I’ve been using a cuddly blanket and stroking her face while I hold her during naps. My hope is that she’ll have associated the blanket with comfort and that it will provide this when we transition to napping in the crib. I still don’t have the gumption to try again yet. I really do cherish holding her. I’m relying on my intuition to tell me when to attempt another time.

The doctor also said Claire can start solids. We gave her the first serving of rice cereal this morning. That stuff tastes like paste, by the way. (Yes, I sampled it.) Awful, bland. But that’s what is recommended. She ate some. I took a couple photos and made a little movie for posterity. She didn’t spit it out, and she willingly opened her mouth for it. Since I made it with formula, and it was practically liquid, I suppose it tasted familiar.

first solids

As far as anniversaries go, it was a quiet one. We did give ourselves the gift of a new mini stereo for the downstairs area. We play a lot of music for Claire, and we needed something high enough to keep from her little hands. The old boom box was moved to our bedroom. (I fall asleep to the sound of waves.)

3rd anniversary gift

Yesterday afternoon we went to the park, and Claire sampled her new sand toys. (The playgrounds have giant sand play areas, but she’s too young yet to play in it.) Here’s another photo.

oh, what's this?

And since I’ve been posting so many photos of her lately, I suppose I’ll take a few days off from blogging here and give my readers a break.

In Just One Day

She changes by leaps and bounds. Today Claire decided to spend nearly all the day on her stomach, rolling and wriggling her way around the room. Her ability to grasp objects seems to have improved overnight. We had dinner at friends’ tonight, and Husband introduced her to his glass of water. She took a few sips. Later she was on my lap and I was holding my glass of water. I lowered my hand slightly and she grabbed at the glass with both hands to pull it to her mouth. So I assisted, and she sampled several sips more. She also grabbed at everything in front of her: my placemat, my plate, my fork. She even managed to get a fistful of food (couscous and chicken), but I wiped it off quickly. Husband went to check on her a few moments ago, and she was asleep on her tummy for the first time, her face turned to the side and her arms situated perpendicular to her torso, with one stuck between the crib slats. It was a happy, happy day all around.

taste test

Half a Year for My Little Eclaire

Wow! Six months have passed. So has a lifetime, it sometimes seems.

So what is notable about Claire at six months of age?

  • A week before she reached five months she began pulling off the bottle again, frustrated, and wanted to eat often. So I switched her to the bottle n*pples for six months+ of age. The first week the flow was a little fast, but she rapidly adjusted. She now consumes 25-31 ounces a day as opposed to her previous 19-24 ounces.
  • Sometimes during a feeding Claire “gargles” her milk. She does this because she enjoys the sound and is experimenting. She smiles with delight as she does it. Some of her feedings are casual, slow-paced, and very social. Other times she guzzles her milk.
  • She’s now coordinated enough to hold two rhythm sticks. She has even banged them together a few times.
  • Claire babbles and says “baba” and “gaga.”
  • She sits upright with support of pillows. Or when I sit behind her, she can sometimes sit without my support; I’m there “just in case.” She isn’t sitting all by herself yet, but she loves to sit.
  • Claire adores interacting with the baby in the mirror. She greets that baby with enthusiasm and smiles. She coos and babbles to her. I tell her that the little girl in the mirror is her best friend.
  • She enjoys peek-a-boo when I cover my face or her face (a scarf is especially fun). She’s yet to cover her own eyes purposefully, but loves the surprise.
  • We broke out some new toys recently, one of them being cloth blocks. I stacked them in a tower, and Claire discovered the wonder of knocking them over. She laughed each time during that first encounter. She’s beginning to learn cause and effect.
  • During a feeding, she will massage my face with the hand closest to me. She squeezes my chin and cheek, and pats my face. She will also rub her foot along the arm that is holding the bottle.
  • Claire is ticklish just under her chin. She’s also got a little mischief in her eyes, when she’s being silly with me.
  • I love her giggle and her full laugh.
  • Claire knows just what the camera is for; when it’s turned on she hams it up, and she loves watching movies of herself.
  • Claire is now mobile by rolling. A few weeks ago she rolled from her back to her stomach maybe half a dozen times; the past few days she’s just started rolling like a little stone.
  • She’s starting to creep her way across the room; it looks a little like swimming on dry land; she will get herself turned 180 degrees to grab another toy or to see me.
  • Claire spends a lot more time happily on her tummy. She’s especially willing when someone is down on the floor face-to-face with her, holding a toy or a book.
  • She outgrew her aquarium bouncer about four weeks ago — not physically, but mentally; she grew bored being in it.
  • She goes into a rapture when she’s put into her exer-saucer and is beginning to understand that when she pushes buttons, voices speak and music plays.
  • Claire enjoys being held in a standing position.
  • Claire now puts her head against my neck and nuzzles in, especially when she’s tired or upset. It generates a precious feeling in me.
  • She’s a champion drooler. No teeth yet.
  • Claire sucks her toes, plays with her feet.
  • She turns to hear new sounds or watch things move. She watches when objects are dropped.
  • Claire still naps in my arms. The last time we tried to transition to napping in the crib, we attempted for three days, three naps per day, which meant three hours of full-on crying and sobbing each day (her, not me, but I nearly went over the edge myself). Then she caught a cold. I don’t know when we’ll be ready to release each other (I’m just as attached to this, I think). My Pixie is a tenacious one.
  • Progress happens rapidly. At a play date Friday, she sat next to another little girl and they reached toward each other and babbled together. She’s becoming very social!

Beautiful Claire, you’ve grown so much in just six months! I look forward to discovering more of the world with you over the next half a year and beyond.

Reassurance

From an email I wrote to a friend who has several children (but it was also me talking to myself and thus worth it to me to post):

Please tell me the fact that my daughter isn’t sitting unassisted at six months is okay. She’s long and petite; doesn’t have a lot of ballast in the butt to anchor her. (I don’t know what I’ll do when the next person to meet her says, “She’s so SMALL!” That’s one of two things people ALWAYS say. The other is, “She’s so alert!” I’m tempted to start saying that she makes up with brains what she lacks in brawn.)

Please tell me that my daughter flipping herself from tummy to back constantly doesn’t mean she’s never going to develop creeping, crawling, and walking. She flipped herself from tummy to back at the age of two weeks (she hated tummy time). Now she’ll accept it and remain on her tummy a few minutes, but it’s not her favorite thing. She has rolled from back to tummy a few times lately. I’m looking forward to when she makes the connection that she can control both ways.

Please help me remember that my daughter has been ill the past week and that it’s okay if we don’t do a whole lot of stimulating stuff. And it’s okay that I find things repetitive and tedious sometimes.

I know it’s not a contest, this raising of children. But sometimes being around other parents tempts comparison.

I can tell you this: I marvel at my daughter’s curiosity and sweetness. She is pure. And loving. And adorable. I’m very, very blessed to be her mother.

And her Aunt LP arrives Thursday for another visit! I hope by then Husband is over his second bad cold and Claire is over her first, so we can all enjoy our visit. 🙂

The Good, The Bad, The Ugly

The good:

  • We paid off our car loan and the title arrived today.
  • Claire discovered the delight of knocking a tower of cloth blocks over. Repeatedly. And she laughed each time.
  • I repurposed a basket that came with a floral arrangement when Claire was born, converting it into her Easter basket. Not that she’s old enough yet for it, but it will make a nice decoration.
  • Claire’s low-grade fever broke.
  • To reduce the risk of credit fraud, we completed the paperwork (quick and simple) to permanently opt-out of prescreened, pre-approved credit card and insurance offers. (You can too; go here.)
  • My free book arrived today.
  • Every Thursday morning Claire and I watch the garbage truck haul away the garbage (since it happens right outside her window, that’s unavoidable), and now the guy who works the truck looks up and waves at us each week.

The bad:

  • Husband thinks he is having a reprise of The Crud that he just got over.
  • Sometimes I miss the validation of shared experiences with coworkers one gets from an outside job. Sometimes the delight of a moment (such as Claire and her block tower) feels also a little lonely.

The ugly:

  • I ate an entire bag of Dove Promise dark chocolate eggs in the past two days. Oink.

At least the good outweighs all the rest.

Music Every Day

We want to provide Claire with a variety of musical exposure. The Music Together songs are an excellent start. We listen to a classical music radio station sometimes. And we have a huge collection of music on CD which is stored also on our computers. (Ain’t technology grand?) So I made seven CDs of music (no classical but pretty much everything else) to spice up every day life. We listen to regular rock stations too, but I like the idea of having personally created playlists for her. Husband made one for her the night we returned from the hospital; it’s called Claire Dance Mix. I haven’t listed that here, since it’s his compilation. If you’d like to see the (very long) list, you can see more. I’ll probably make more over time, since we have thousands of songs. (Ain’t technology grand?) Continue reading →

Ick of Sick

Starting Sunday we again attempted to help our wee one nap in the crib. Let’s just say we’ve failed spectacularly. You might even call it an Epic Fail.

Yesterday she began sneezing and coughing a lot. At first I thought it was from the snot from so much crying, and that her throat was dry and hoarse from crying. But she awoke this morning much snottier, coughing a lot, and she slept less deeply last night than usual. She’s very tired and subdued.

So until she feels better, I’ll continue to hold her for naps.

EpicFail02
funny pictures
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The Inconsolable Child

This observation was included in an article about adult discomfort with a crying child who won’t be comforted, and what to do for the child. The answer: just stay near. The excerpt articulates what I struggle with when my child cries.

“The inconsolable state of grief, or what feels like an intolerable level of loss or disappointment, is a very important point where the child begins to deal with our most fundamental relations — call it existential despair, or call it, ‘damn it, don’t you understand, this tragedy is unfixable!’. If a precious toy is lost, or a trust betrayed, or some such tragedy, it may evoke the feeling that this is not something I will be negotiated out of. I won’t be seduced by offers of warmth or food or entertainment. This is non-negotiable. (Is this what is known as integrity?)

“Somehow it feels as though what we ask for in that inconsolable state is the acknowledgment that, ‘yes, it is unfixable. No, nothing could be worse than this.’

“What prevents the so-called adult from being able to truly BE with the inconsolable child? I mean the child seems to know exactly what to do and how to do it. It wails and moans with great stamina. What about the adult, though? Do adults experience the exact same level of inconsolability? What has really changed in ‘growing up?’ What has changed is that the adult has acquired a learned ability to deny, and negotiate the unnegotiable tragedy. We are considered grown up when we no longer behave childishly, but the really vital question is whether we have faced the unfixable tragedy of life. Have we faced it, or have we negotiated it into a managed state? Doesn’t the child show us exactly where we stopped in growing up ourselves? The impulse is to calm the child, to make things better. But the scream comes back, ‘Don’t even try to calm me down!’ whether in words or equivalent. Why is this so unnerving? Doesn’t it evoke all the fear, resentment, frustration, which hasn’t really changed at all since our own childhood? And isn’t the impulse to get the child calmed down, by any means possible, an impulse to stifle this Pandora’s box? It’s an enormous challenge to really be with the child in its inconsolable state.

“That child is ourself. We want love, which is always going to turn out to be less dependable than the infinite we hoped for. We want psychological security and it will never be enough. We want physical security. We want to continue as me forever. Our wants, and perceived needs come up bang against the wall of aloneness which wanting and hoping and grasping creates. Then, can we be with the sadness this evokes? Can we feel it, the impulse to run away from it, the absoluteness of it, the non-negotiable nature of our predicament as a vulnerable, scared human being? Perhaps if we truly perceive the fact that there is nothing I can do, then the child/adult may for the first time be free from an enormous burden of managing the unmanageable.

“The notion that I, as an ‘adult’, should know what to do with the inconsolable child is a myth which can only add pressure and fear when I realize I don’t know what to do. As soon as there is a formula of how to deal with inconsolability, then I am the adult raising the child. But in truth, the child and I are both trying to grow up together. Why should I know what to do? And he or she has something to remind me of here.

“You say to stay near. I agree. What ideas, fears and so on separate us from the child? Whether it’s the child or ourselves, it’s the same pain, isn’t it? Whether we are 2 years old, 32 years old, 92 years old, we face the same fear of the unknown, and the same unnegotiable grief when someone or something we love isn’t available. Can we openly not know the answer?”

“Doesn’t such a state of openness communicate itself? — to a child, to a dog or a cat, or to the people we live with?”

–Kevin Frank, When a Child is Inconsolable: Staying Near