Oh Little One: Four Haiku
That brave little neck,
the stem of a sunflower;
your brain is blooming.
—–
Your luscious curved cheek
is a small apple that begs
for tender kisses.
—–
The tree sapling back
nourishes roots and branches;
may it grow mighty.
—–
Hands touch but don’t clutch
like curious mice seeking
their fortune in cheese.
–Kathryn Harper
How I love her!
My darling dumpling daughter is waking around 4:15 a.m. the past few days. I’m taking those feedings. It makes for a long day, even if I get a nap, which I don’t usually.
I’m grateful my MIL is cooking or I’d starve and be much crankier. I also think my exhaustion is related to PMS (I didn’t miss that when pregnant!).
Anyhow, other than the painfully early arising, Claire is adorable. We stopped the transition to the regular formula and the next day she was cheerful again. Today I made her giggle! Every day she is more aware and awake, more amazing. She can hold her head steady now. She loves to sit with support. She devours her fingers and is already quite drooly. She can’t be teething yet! Right? Today she grabbed my nose with her hand and wriggled happily when I talked in a funny voice after.
I don’t know what she weighs now, but her 0-3 month clothing fits her just right.
—
Today and yesterday I had the California Shopping Experience while looking for three things. (This is my and Husband’s term for the fact that any item one really wants/needs to purchase is destined not to be easily found, because stores here just don’t have the warehouse space to stock things. Two days ago I had to search three stores to find a can of Claire’s formula.) I finally found two of them and a substitute for the third.
The first thing I looked for were two more Zyliss Quick-Blend Shakers. We have two, and I wanted two more — one set to be in the dishwasher at day’s end and another to have the next day’s milk. These are handy, because they fit on a blender and mix the hypoallergenic formula well. I finally found them at a Bed Bath & Beyond in South San Jose (the Santa Clara one where I got the first two didn’t have them anymore). After the second failed attempt I got smart and called a couple stores first. Is it pathetic that I searched so hard for these? Maybe. I know it’s compulsive. Maybe what is pathetic is that I am so pleased to have them.
The other two items I wanted were ingredients for making a soup my brother recently made and emailed about. The recipe calls for Sopressata and Abruzzese sausage, which he said are commonly available. Maybe in Austin, dude! I had to go to two different stores just to find Sopressata last night. Today I went to three stores for the Abruzzese, the last of which was Zanotto’s Italian grocery. I figured they’d have it. Well, they’d never heard of it. However, because it’s family-owned, they give a damn. So the staff researched it on the Internet and came back to tell me it’s a region in central Italy. Zanotto’s owners are from northern Italy (Venice), and I was told different dialects mean that the same thing may be called by several names. In the end I described what I wanted to make and they sold me Salametti, which might do the job just as well. I hope so (though I’ll have to compensate for the absence of the spiciness of Abruzzese). I simmered a chicken carcass and smoked ham shank to make the stock today. The soup itself takes two more days. I hope it’s as sublime as he promised.
Now please say goodnight and wish me sweet dreams, because I’m due to be up in about seven hours.
At 12:49 a.m., Claire turned three months old. Back when the colic was its worst and I was shakiest, Karen had suggested I mark my calendar to note when the fourth trimester ends. It gave me something to look forward to — the magical date that readers, friends, and family all promised would change my life. The improvement happened, not necessarily in one day, but I’m not quibbling!
As I write this, my Petite Eclair is napping in her swing, grinning about something she’s dreaming. Milk? Mommy’s singing? Daddy’s silly faces? She is marvelous. Every day I see changes in her size, appearance, movement, and comprehension.
This weekend we hope to make the transition back to normal formula instead of the “liquid gold” that we’ve been using. We’re introducing the new formula in a 1:3 ratio with a progression of 2:2, then 3:1, and by Monday I hope it’s all plain ol’ formula and her tummy is content and pain-free. She still gets her Zantac twice a day, and this has made all the difference. About a month ago she started taking it willingly. She even smiles when we’re done.
Also, since my mother-in-law is here, I’ve been instituting one nap in her crib. She now has a sleep routine well-established at night. Daddy rocks her until she’s drowsy, places her in the crib, and she falls asleep herself. She sleeps in four-hour stretches, though the middle of the night span has increased to five hours. However, with me she still took all her naps in the swing. I needed someone else during the day to provide moral support during the crying. So here is how it has played out this week.
Tuesday: Claire hardly kept her eyes open while having a snack. I gently put her in the crib and her eyes flew open. I said sweet things and told her to have a good nap. I left the room. Wailing and gnashing of gums ensued. After 13 minutes, I went in to console her for five minutes. (This involves singing, rubbing the belly and head, and patting her leg while she remains in the crib.) She cried throughout this. After five minutes I said I loved her and to have a good nap. Woe and wrath continued. After 15 minutes, I went in for another five minutes of comforting, then left again. About five minutes after that, after the cries were interspersed with quiet moments, she fell asleep — for all of 20 minutes. However, that was success! When she woke, I retrieved her, and we went back to playing.
Wednesday: Claire had a little milk and was rocked; she was drowsy but awake when I put her down. After the usual good wishes, I left the room. She was silent for 15 minutes, and then realized, Hey, where’d Mommy go? I’m alone in here! Crying and protesting began. I did one cycle of waiting, then one of consoling, and mid-way in the second cycle of crying she fell asleep for 25 minutes.
Thursday: Claire fell asleep at the bottle. (We go to her room, where it’s quiet, to drink and rock a bit.) I oh-so-carefully laid her in the crib, and she stayed asleep. Her catnap lasted 35 minutes.
Friday: She was again drowsy at the bottle. I laid her down barely awake. She stirred slightly and began to cry. I left the room; the wait time for this day was 15 minutes before checking. About 30 seconds before I was going to go in, she fell quiet. I could hear breathing on the monitor. She was asleep! And she slept for 45 minutes.
We’re learning together.
I’m really glad my MIL is here, because I was tempted each day to scoop Claire out of the crib and just put her in the swing again. But getting her accustomed to a nap in her crib means she can safely sleep while I do tasks in other parts of the house. She needs to learn how to soothe herself as well. Her other two naps — early morning and late morning — still happen in the swing, and they tend to be 2-3 hours long. Eventually we’ll get there. Oh, one other funny note: at night, sometimes after she’s put in her crib, she starts moaning. It’s not protest crying. It’s a little whiny in tone; she does this for a number of minutes (usually while sucking on her fingers) until she falls asleep. I’ve decided it’s her When Harry Met Sally pre-sleep routine.
[Casablanca ends with “I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”]
Harry: Mmm, best last line of a movie ever.
Sally: Hmm….
Harry: I’m definitely coming down with something. Probably a twenty-four hour tumor; they’re going around.
Sally: You don’t have a tumor.
Harry: How do you know?
Sally: If you’re so worried go see a doctor.
Harry: No, he’ll just tell me it’s nothing.
Sally: Will you be able to sleep?
Harry: If not I’ll be OK.
Sally: What will you do?
Harry: I’ll stay up moan. May be I should practice now. (moans….)
Sally: Goodnight Harry.
Harry: Goodnight.(Both hang up the phone)
(Sally’s light is out)
(Harry keeps moaning… and eventually lights out)
I’ve been signing the word milk to her whenever she seems to be hungry. I say the word in a questioning voice with my eyebrows raised and make the sign. I do this several times and then get the bottle. I hold the bottle in one hand, make the sign with other, and ask the question: Milk? She watches my hand. She responds to the question by wriggling, kicking, and nearly panting. At some point around 6-9 months (or later, I don’t care) she might start making the sign herself to request milk. I’ll gradually introduce other signs over time.
Have I mentioned how adorable she is? And how beautifully, intricately marvelous? Happy third month, sweet Claire!
We discourage Stella from settling on Claire’s play quilts (a pathetic attempt to reduce cat hair, ha!). But of course, Stella must assert herself — only so far. It’s rather sweet.
Also, I’m showing off. Go see this photo and this photo.
…when I wish my husband would come striding through the door. Claire is tired, grumpy, sick of sleeping (in her swing, crib, wherever). She’s not hungry. Her “bedtime” is around 6:30-7:00, but until then she fusses. The volume isn’t at the top yet (yes, she does go to 11) — right now it’s grousing and whining sounds. But soon enough, it might end up breaking the eardrums.
Well, she napped until 3:30. My god but babies need a lot of sleep.
From the book I just started referring to (for ideas for play):
Children use 48% of their calorie intake to fuel their brain. Adults use 20%. A child’s brain is 2.5 times more active than an adult’s brain.
Ninety-five percent of the information our brains process come from our senses. Eighty-five percent comes from our vision, touch, and hearing.
–Pam Schiller, The Complete Resource Book for Infants: Over 700 Experiences for Children from Birth to 18 Months
For two reasons:
1) I cooked. I roasted a chicken, made couscous, cooked broccoli. That’s an accomplishment.
2) Claire laughed for the first time — tonight! Husband was the recipient of the first one. He called me over and continued to tickle her and make funny noises, and she laughed again. And again. It was priceless.
She nearly rolled herself over from back to belly. (She’s done belly to back several times already.)
…building braaaaaaaaaaains.
We had several good days and nights in the past week. Then yesterday at 10 a.m., Claire began to cry loudly and angrily. I knew why. She was working on a Superpoop. She screamed and sobbed for an hour, then fell asleep in my friend’s arms (who happened to arrive just as it started, so we took turns holding her). Then at 11:30 a.m., just as I was about to run errands, she woke up and let out the loudest series of farts, followed by the sound of poop production. Ick, I know, but it was hilarious, actually. Especially when I said to my friend, “Well, I’m off now, have fun!” (Then I offered to take care of the diaper anyway, but my friend shooed me off.)
Claire has been increasing her intake from an average of 18 ounces a day to about 21 ounces, and it stresses her digestion, so we have episodes of this. Lots of times while she’s eating, she has to pause to attend to business on the other end, and sometimes she pulls off the bottle entirely, wanting to eat still but unable to continue (pain? strain?) and angry that she can’t. The vibrating bouncer seat usually shakes her loose. Problem is, crying episodes sometimes happen in the wee hours of the 2/3/4 a.m. feeding. She was up at 2 a.m. this time; husband came to bed at 5:45 a.m. saying it was my turn (I wish he’d gotten me at 5 a.m.) and that she’d been screaming for an hour and that, though exhausted, she wouldn’t stay asleep. He could barely string words together to make the sentences, and yet he has to go to work too.
By the time I got to her, she was hungry again. I fed her and cuddled, then put her in the swing pleading with her to sleep. She was awake for half an hour, but quiet, then dozed for half an hour, and now she’s awake again. Oy. She will be 11 weeks old on Saturday. I’m beginning to suspect that the magical change at three months that everyone promises is not going to happen for us. Yesterday at the grocery store a couple in line had a cute baby, and I asked how old. They said she was four weeks old, and then proudly shared that she’d started sleeping through the night. I turned green with envy.
I’m really glad my mother-in-law is coming.
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?
My mother-in-law is coming back to assist. She was willing to come as soon as tomorrow. Despite the fact she also plans to fly to Kansas for Thanksgiving to see her other son from November 20-28, she was willing to come here first and then return to us after that trip. Husband and I decided we could muddle through until the 26th, and she’ll move her departure from Kansas up a couple of days. She’ll be coming for an indefinite stay. Who knows? Since she’d planned to come for ten days at Christmastime, she may just end up staying the whole month.
Soon the weekend will be here. I just need to cope with today, tomorrow and Friday. Next week Husband plans (we hope) to take Monday and Wednesday off, and I can see if a friend can spell me on Tuesday. Then he’ll be off the remainder of next week for the holiday, and before we know it, the 26th will arrive.
I feel encouraged and relieved, and much less depressed and anxious.
I know I’ve got to come to grips with my role as a mother. I’m the adult, after all. But this is a relationship unlike any other; I’m a little long in the tooth and had years to become comfortable with having my way and only taking care of myself. So having some help through this growth spurt is much appreciated.
One of the things I’ll need to embrace is that I’ve got the child I’ve got, and she’s so young it’s too soon to draw conclusions. Maybe she’s a fiery personality and I’ll have my hands very full the rest of my life. Or maybe it’s just that she’s not been on this earth even 70 days yet, and her nervous system is immature, and/or she may naturally have ultra-acute senses, and that she’ll grow into a more settled state (like everyone keeps promising). This little person may simply need to be kept company while she thrashes her way through life (if indeed that’s how she needs to do it), and if I can step back from fear of “doing it wrong” and release resistance to not having my way, maybe I can see more clearly how to provide that. Rather than feel vexed that I can’t soothe her (so as to have a calm life and support my wish to feel competent), I can smile at her with the wisdom of having been alive much longer and feel less desperately helpless. She needs room to be herself and a mother who can tell the difference between mother and daughter.
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.
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.
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. 🙂