I spend my days making these notes. Evidence that I do something! (We also have another notation system for food intake and poop output.) There’s no sleep pattern yet, but the letters make fun combinations. Husband and I joke, “Charts and graphs, yup, charts and graphs.”
I took a walk yesterday with Claire. As we walked, I talked to her, describing and naming the visible things and the sounds. A woman walking her tiny dog approached from the opposite direction. As she neared us, she said, “You have the most loving, beautiful expression on your face.” How sweet! I stopped and chatted for a moment, introducing her to Claire. She oohed and aahed over Pixie, telling me how beautiful she is. After a couple of minutes of this, we wished each other a happy day and went on our way. That encounter added a sparkle to my day.
Last night there were about 11 women gathered for the potluck. This was a group of mellow, warm women. I felt immediately at home. It was also really nice to talk with contemporaries who share similar growing-up reference points, and who could relate to the challenge of the mental shift required of older, independent women who become mothers for the first time.
The interesting thing (to me) is how much cheering I received for getting myself out of the house to attend. It felt heartening. I’d even showered before I went, so I was, like, all put together (or at least not stinky and covered in spilled milk). I received the requisite encouragement that the schedule starts to settle more around 3-4 months, and so on. We also got to share and compare birth war stories.
Oh! Another neat tidbit: one of the women at the potluck is someone I met in 2004, just after I moved here. She and I trained to be volunteer grief counselors in October/November at The Centre for Living With Dying. However, I didn’t continue after the training, as my father-in-law’s cancer had returned, and he was dying. I had my own living with dying to deal with and nothing to spare for another grieving person. Anyhow, I felt such pleasure running into her. I know I’m home when I finally begin running into acquaintances in ordinary places like the grocery store, other gatherings, and so on. In Austin it began to happen about three or four years after I arrived; until then, it was surreal sometimes to do ordinary life tasks but feel like a stranger moving through a foreign world.
I’m really glad I went. I got home around 10:00, and I’m so gonna need a nap. Regardless of how tired I am, I always become conscious at about 3:30 a.m. and try to relax back to sleep. Usually it’s a light doze, if that, until 5 a.m. when I decide it’s pointless and make coffee. I never used to wake up at 3 a.m. — instead, I was often awake at that time because I couldn’t fall asleep in the first place. Back then I could sleep until I was refreshed and woke naturally. Not anymore! What’s the saying? I’ll sleep when I’m dead — or when I can catch a nap.
Also, new photos of Pixie for friends and family are up at Flickr.
I joined Las Madres a couple months ago. I found there’s a group for mothers age 40+. Tonight there’s a Mother’s Night Out potluck. Do ya think I’ll be there? I plan on it. I can sacrifice an early bedtime for a chance to make new friends and find support.
A question: Would I be an evil person, in that I’m wasting a precious resource, if I run the dishwasher only partly full in the morning because the sound helps my daughter sleep in her swing? If the answer is yes, does the fact that it’s loaded with baby bottle paraphernalia, and that I use the extra hot water and sanitize settings to get them really clean, forgive this?
Yesterday was a remarkably good day, considering. Pixie had a good morning and napped in her swing. In the afternoon she was tired, and I thought I’d try the crib. First I rocked her until drowsy with the routine as Husband does it (consistency is good, yes?). Her eyes became heavy and she was nearly asleep; I put her down in the crib just as Husband does. Her eyelids flew up like broken blinds, practically flapping up to her eyebrows. Squirm. Wiggle. Whimper. Preparing The Face. The Dreaded Chin of Doom began to emerge. She was winding up to pitch a major fit.
I took off the swaddle in case that was what bothered her (she doesn’t fight it with Husband though). Rocked her. No dice. Rather than fight with her and go through the rock/hold then put down and scream/fight, ad nauseum, I chose my battle. I put her in the swing, flipping my finger in the face of one of The Baby Sleep Experts who says motionless sleep provides better quality rest. I made her cozy with a lovely blanket from Emy (it’s the perfect heft and weight, is washable wool, and it’s handmade with love). Then I crammed in my earplugs and sat there on the sofa next to her, determined to ride out her storm. Oh, my nerves jangled, but I grit my teeth.
Twenty minutes later, after whimpering and grousing, she was sleeping angelically. She didn’t wake until 2:40 p.m. Then she guzzled four ounces, and I put her in the bouncer to watch out the window. I decided to attempt to start dinner. And imagine this, I was able to get the whole dish assembled! I looked at Claire and said, Who are you and what have you done with my daughter?
Nana Eileen came by late afternoon around 4:00, and we had a lovely visit. She played with Claire and Claire was cheerful. Claire got tired, on the verge of fussy, so I put her in the swing while we visited. She fell asleep for a catnap around 5:00 — 20 minutes. Eventually Eileen had to leave.
And wouldn’t you know it… 20 minutes later the Hurricane made landfall. At 6:10 I changed Claire, and as soon as I finished she began to cry. And cry. And sob. And scream. I held her while sitting on the sofa, wishing Husband would get home soon. I watched my little girl as she wailed and writhed for 20 minutes in my arms. (She seems to like that timeframe, and yes, I do track the time a great deal. Go ahead and laugh.) Then she stopped, heaved a sigh, and looked in my eyes. I talked to her. I said, “You must be so very tired. You just don’t know what to do with yourself. Poor girl.” She smiled faintly and then cooed. She stuck out her tongue. I smiled back. One second later she was back to screaming. Okey-dokey. We’ll just ride this out!
Five minutes after the encore, she stopped, and Husband arrived home. He ate my lovely dinner; I held her on my lap at the table so we could all visit. She was calm and cute, but (can you guess what’s next?) after about 20 minutes she started the wind-up again. We promptly bathed her. He then swaddled her and rocked her to drowsiness, and she immediately fell asleep and stayed asleep in the crib until 9:30 p.m., when she woke as expected for a bottle. After she ate, she fell asleep again within minutes. Daddy has the magic. I want some too!
Today has also been even-keeled and happy. She’s eaten and napped well, and we took a walk. Now she’s sleeping in the swing and she didn’t even fuss first. We’ll see what happens as the evening arrives.
You know, it occurs to me that it’s not Claire who has a problem with crying. It’s her Momma. Somehow eventually she and I need to work out a nap arrangement that allows her to be in a safe, quiet place (maybe her crib, imagine that!). Her being in the swing means I don’t feel comfortable doing anything in another part of the house; plus I feel I need to be more quiet than usual.
Well, that’s an update. I hope it was entertaining and that you enjoyed my use of mixed metaphors — variety is the spice of life. Also, I took this photo today after our walk. Sweet, eh?
That’s Polly with the Purple Feet.
You might notice the refrigerator in the background. It’s plastered with printout of posts from this blog.
Husband brought this home for me from work. This is a routine snack in their fridge — “microwave 60 seconds and enjoy.” I was at wits’ end with a crying baby, so he thought I needed this.
P.S. After 25 minutes of hysterical crying (not me, my daughter) I went back and picked her up to rock her. She went instantly limp into a doze in my arms. Husband came home 20 minutes later and she woke. He held her for 20 minutes, talked quietly, she fell asleep, and now she is asleep in her crib. It’s not fair! (But I’m grateful that he is such a good father and that she will fall asleep for someone.)
The witching hour is back. What appeared to be an improvement with Zantac has disappeared. At this moment she is screaming in her crib while I take a momentary break to keep my sanity. She is hoarse from crying most of the afternoon. She did sleep a lot this morning and a bit this afternoon (interspersed with crying). She fights her sleep. I try to make sure not to keep her awake too long between sleep sessions: she wakes hungry, she gets fed, changed, played with a very short time, and as soon as she shows drowsy signs, I try to soothe her. It worked a little earlier in the afternoon, though she would not sleep in her crib alone more than 30-40 minutes. However, as the afternoon progressed the crying increased. She thrashes in my arms whether swaddled or not. She does not respond to soft humming or soft or loud shushing sound. She will calm momentarily and start to drift into sleep and then become alert and start crying, screaming, and thrashing while in my arms. If my friend had not come over to visit today and spell me a little while I think I’d be screaming and thrashing right now too.
It’s manifestly clear that she’s exhausted. She’s fed, clean, dry, held lovingly. She is not ill. I’m helpless. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to help her get sleep. I’m angry. I’m sad. I’m alienated. I’m having a hard time focusing on empathy for her and letting go of my ego-driven desire to have a child who is more convenient and less a mystery. Less challenging. Less difficult. I’m having difficulty keeping her company whatever she is going through. In this moment I do not want this relationship, this job, this vocation of mothering and motherhood. I’m insecure and scared and have standards I can’t live up to. And I plain don’t like being helpless and ignorant and watching someone I love suffer.
I’m going to leave comments open, but please, no advice, or suggestions that start with Have you tried….
I think I need help. I need extra hands and arms and someone who has experience being a parent. I’m going to talk with Husband about asking his mother to come back. She’s coming for Christmas December 20-30, and I feel like asking more is an imposition and also a sign that at 44 I still can’t fucking handle responsibility, and am shying away from being a grown-up, and that I had no business procreating. And oh my, this is my life now, and the rest of my life.
I am so pleased that I decided to participate in Art Everyday Month this year. I’m enjoying it, and since I decided to focus only on photography, I don’t feel any stress about coming up with something. I can carry out my motherly duties and still make stuff. That feels good. 🙂
Inexplicably, Claire is not sleeping again, and she’s so overtired she’s hysterical. This hysteria is frightening to witness. We are doing all the things we usually try and it’s not helping. So the hysteria begets more exhaustion which begets more hysteria. Sometimes she will sleep in our arms, but more often as soon as she drifts off she startles at nothing and begins crying again. Her appetite seems good, but who the hell knows when that will change?
The doctor has no advice. No one has advice. And while it’s well-intentioned, I don’t want advice. I just want it to improve. I just want her to feel better. I just want her to be happy and rested. Oh, and I’d like to be happy and rested and have a cheerful child. And I don’t know if or when this will happen. And unless you plan to come live with us and help out, all the advice means zero. Though I do appreciate the sympathy that would prompt it.
Parenting is scary.
Comments are off so the temptation to leave advice is removed. I just need to express what’s going on.
Children see, children do…
If you can’t see the video in the post, click here to go to it.
[via Parenting Beyond Belief]
Last night the battery on my laptop died.
First, two laptop power cords have been (presumably) chewed through by the cat, requiring their disposal. Now my laptop battery is konked out.
I still have one cord left and am in the office madly typing this. Soon the baby will wake and I’ll not get back into this room again until evening, probably.
I ask (only partly in jest): Perhaps the universe is trying to tell me something?
Claire was two months old yesterday. There are more photos for friends and family at Flickr. Onward!
Claire weighed in at 9 pounds, 7 ounces. I thought surely she’d gained more! But any gain is good. She also got four immunizations today, three in the form of shots in her thigh. Poor sweetie screamed at a pitch I’d not heard before. She calmed down fairly fast. I really like the pediatrician. Every visit she makes sure Claire is covered and warm, and takes her time answering my questions and examining her. They also, if they don’t have a lot of patients coming in after us, allow us to stay and feed her in the examination room. (She’s irregular enough that it seems she always gets hungry during an appointment regardless of when it is.)
Karen had suggested the stakes; Husband and I never got around to setting them actually. So nothing gained or lost on that front.
The visit with Aunt LP is wonderful! Claire loves her aunt (not that I ever doubted it). I love Claire’s aunt too. 🙂
Wednesday was a very hard day with Claire (for me) — it started out with her cheerful. But her erratic eating, overstimulation, inability to sleep, more colicky crying late in the day put her over the top with exhaustion, but she could not find a way to sleep (despite all the usual that we do). Every day is variable. Keeps me on my toes. On days like this (and the past couple have been a little choppy) I feel anxiety. Just when I start feeling competent, things change. I guess this is parenting!
My art:
The Yoga Adventure for Children: Playing, Dancing, Moving, Breathing, Relaxing, by Helen Purperhart
This is a clever little book. It’s simply written so that even a child can read and implement the instructions, and the drawings of poses are helpful. I also like organization of information. There are sections for breathing, yoga, visualization, etc. At the end of the book is a handy index showing which exercises and games require props and which don’t. The only device that isn’t as helpful and I found confusing was the way the exercises are identified by age group. The icons representing the four different groups look too similar, making it difficult to remember if it means the age group for ages 4-8, 4-12, 6-12, or 8-12. On the whole it’s a useful guide for teachers, parents, kids, and childcare providers.
It’s a little soon to begin with Claire, but I’ll definitely keep it in my library for later.