The Other Side of the Doorway

I look at the bouquet of flowers on our dining room sideboard that I bought during my last grocery store trip last Friday. Just something to brighten things up during our two-week quarantine. I feel like I bought them in another lifetime. It was the same when, yesterday, I pulled a receipt out of my pocket from eating lunch out with Mister P last week after shopping at Costco. Or when I look at the shirt I bought there a little more than a week ago, when closing school seemed like a vague possibility, but not something that I really expected to happen; at least, not so soon. These things are like relics from "before," and I wonder when everything will be from "now."

I have a vivid memory of, a few days after Miss A was born, standing in our kitchen, overwhelmed and delirious with exhaustion. I had the distinct feeling of having walked through a doorway that I could look, but not pass, back through. I saw an enormously-pregnant, but relatively well-groomed woman using her brain at work, casually shopping, laughing with adults, cooking, and chatting with her husband after dinner. I missed being her so much, I cried. I wanted to go back through the door, but here I was. I could only look.

I feel like we all have passed through another doorway. I'm not sure what this new dimension holds, yet. It seems so unsteady. I didn't know then, either, but I know now that that moment was the lowest, or close to it. I guess my fear is that we are not there, yet, or even close to it.

Crawling at a Snail's Pace

If there weren't already a thousand other reasons to know that Abby is definitely our daughter, her "slow by little" approach to...well, I guess just certain things, is definitely one of them.  For example, after starting to teeth at around four or five months, Abby was over eleven months old before poking through those first two teeth.  To be fair, though, she has no control over how fast her teeth come in.  If she did, I'm sure she would have them in faster so we might give her apple slices and tortilla chips.

What she has taken her time with, is crawling.  We've watched our friends' babies, three and four months younger than her, start scooting right past her, while Abby sat like a lump. She's aging out of her class at My Gym, but I'm keeping it on the down-low.  How can she go on to the next class when half the kids in this class are crawling or even walking, and Abby is still just a world-class reacher?  It really is kind of amazing how far she can reach - Kevin and I swear she has "Go-Go-Gadget" arms, and she can fold herself in half to reach something she wants.  Or, if she can't reach it, you can almost see her thinking, "Oh well," as she decides to play with something else, like her pant legs.  Our pediatrician actually suggested that Abby might just be lazy, and we couldn't disagree.

We weren't particularly worried.  Crawling is actually not an "official" developmental milestone, and the age-range for first steps is up to 18 months.  Kevin has probably been a little more anxious to get her moving than I have been - he won't have to chase around the house once she gets going!  But, on the other hand, that baby is getting heavy, and it might be nice to not have to carry her everywhere.

We've followed the pediatrician's advice to "leave her own defenses" (I think she meant "devices") when playing, so she'd be forced to get things on her own.  Another friend was advised to keep her kiddo on his knees as much as possible, so we've been doing that, too.  And maybe it all paid off, or maybe she would've crawled for the first time on Valentine's Day, anyway.

I always thought it would be our cat or the iPhone that motivated her to crawl for the first time, but it was her books!  I think she may be more of the bookworm type, anyway.

With her Great Grandma at Christmas.

Nursing Dreams and Dream Feeds

Tonight is Kevin's last "dream feed" with Abby.  A dream feed is a bottle you sneak to your baby in her sleep, right before YOU go to bed, with the hope that the little extra will be enough to keep them asleep the rest of the night.  We didn't really start off with that intention.  At the beginning, when we gradually weaned to breastfeeding from full-time bottles, and were still trying to get in 9-10 feedings a day, Kevin wanted to hold on to this one.  It was one less nursing session I had to figure out how to fit in, and Kevin loved this special daddy-daughter time.

When I mentioned in an online mommy-group that we were still doing dream feeds around six months, some gently mentioned that most babies dropped the dream feed around this time.  Kevin practically turned pale when I told him this.  At this point, Abby was sleeping through the night, while most breastfed babies wake at least once during the night for a feeding for at least the first year.  "So," I told Kevin, "maybe the dream feed is like, her night feeding, so you might as well keep giving it to her."  We agreed to wean her off of it around a year.

Abby is nearly 14 months old, now.  We've kept it a little longer than originally planned, because our girl had some other plans.

See, I had planned to breastfeed at least until I get pregnant again, if I do.  Which, if things go as we have planned, would be around 18 months.  I figured she'd probably wean herself around then, anyway, since my supply would most certainly drop.  I always intended for her take the lead, though, and while I don't love the idea of nursing while pregnant, I would've tried it for her.  I imagined we'd drop a feeding every couple of months until we were down to one or two, and gracefully stop.

After a feeding, around 2 months

She did take the lead.  She surprised and confused me by weaning during her eleventh month.  It was very unusual, because it was early (before 12 months), and abrupt.  Both of those usually signal a nursing strike (where a baby won't nurse for a few days for some reason, then hops back on the train).  Around Thanksgiving, she began biting more often than not after nursing...then at the beginning of nursing, repeatedly, so no nursing actually happened.  Within a few days, it was every feeding except for the morning one, and then it was that one, too.

I tried for weeks.  All time, at first, then once or twice a day, then every few days.  I tried every trick in the book to discourage biting.  I was firm, I was calm.  I offered her a teether, I fake cried, I put her down, I left the room.  As it stretched from a two-week, "Well, maybe this is just a long strike" into Christmas, I had to accept that our nursing relationship had ended.

This was the last time she fell asleep after nursing.
 Mid-September.

I think you may have to be a mother, but maybe not, to understand how devastated I was.  I want to tell you, in case you've been through it and you can tell me I'm normal, or in case you're going through it and I can tell you you're normal.  I loved nursing, once we got the hang of it.  I know not all mamas do, and that's okay.  I loved the calm, the sweetness, the excuse to just "be" with my baby.  It was special to nurture my baby in one way no one else could.

When I wasn't sure if she was striking or weaning, I was almost as emotional as I was postpartum.  I'm sure it was partially hormones. But a lot of it was also the "not knowing," and the intense feeling of rejection every time she would bite me or turn her head away.  One of the worst things was, she had just learned the sign for milk, and would do it.  I'd offer her the breast, and she'd bite.  But she kept asking, and it broke my heart.  I don't think she thought the sign meant what I thought it meant.  I cried a lot, and I cry thinking about it now.    I would think crazy, irrational things like, "She doesn't love me," or, "I bet she never did like to nurse."  I had to stop trying, because I couldn't take her refusal.  I was so heartbroken.

I'm mostly past it, now.  Although it happened in an unusual way and at an unusual time, I know it's just the first of many things that I'm going to let go of as a mama, as my baby girl grows up.

Which brings us back to the dream feed.  When Abby's first birthday rolled around, we still didn't know what she was doing with this nursing business, so we thought it would be good to continue the dream feed to make sure she was getting enough milk.  Now that she's pretty well established with cows' milk, I'm weaning off of pumping, and her daddy is weaning from the dream feed.  He's been gradually skipping more nights in between feeds for the past few weeks.  At first, we thought she'd wake up hungry, but not a peep.  Not a single time.

I know it's a little the same for him.  Probably without the crazy hormones, though. But that special, quiet, daddy-daughter time that has become so familiar to him.  How he still holds her like a tiny baby when he feeds her, although she has grown so much since he started.  How he has cuddled and snuggled her the same way before putting her back into bed, although it's been months since her head would rest comfortably on his chest.  He will have to let go of this, too.

I didn't have any pictures of him giving her a bottle, so here's just one of their first pictures.

Our little girl still needs us.  She'll just need us in new ways as she grows up!

A ONEderful Birthday!

Abby had a spectacular first birthday weekend.  She started off the day by playing peek-a-boo with a yet-unnamed moose from her Great Grandma.

Maybe we'll call him Peekaboo Moose?

Then, we had lunch at Brooms Bloom.  No ice cream for Abby, though.  Just mac and cheese and chicken salad.  We wanted to take her to Christopher's Train Garden, which is right there.  Unfortunately, she was terrified of the loud train noises.  Maybe next year!

Abby would rather be playing with Peekaboo Moose

Grandpa made a special lasagna for Abby's birthday dinner.  Lasagna is one of her favorites!

Now, I had assumed that Abby's first cake would be at her party.  This didn't sit well with her Daddy, who insisted we get her at least a cupcake.  Since this gave us an excuse to get cupcakes from Flavor Cupcakery, I agreed.

We put on Abby's party hat...

As you can see, she wasn't a fan.  This might have influenced her lack of enthusiasm towards her cupcake.

She just didn't know what to make of the icing.  She kept grabbing it and trying to fling it behind her back.  She eventually ate a little, but wasn't thrilled.  Kevin wondered if she thought the icing looked like...something that usually comes out  of the other end.

Then, it was present time!

Daddy showed her how to show off he new pants...

...and she modeled her new cupcake hat.

Also, Grandpa made her this beautiful table and chair set.  I knew he was making it, but I didn't know he was making something quite this lovely!

Abby tries it out at breakfast the next morning.

After all this excitement, she still had a full-blown birthday party with all of her friends that weekend!

Photo courtesy of Sarah Prindiville

I love the picture of these kiddos playing!  They will be priceless one day!

Photo courtesy of Sarah Prindiville

Photo courtesy of Sarah Prindiville

Unfortunately, Grandma and Grandpa had to leave early.  But not before Abby played with balloons with Grandpa!

By now, Abby was a pro at opening presents.  Thanks to Miss Jenny for taking these!

Daddy photo bomb!

It was funny - Abby's gifts were quite indicative of the adults in attendance.  When you invite a bunch of teachers and librarians to a one-year-old's birthday party, you're bound to end up with a bunch of puzzles and books, which we love!  Abby also got an awesome baby laptop, as well as adorable shoes from the geneticist-now-stay-at-home-mom-who-loves-shoes. Really, it was easy to remember who gave what! 

Then, it was cake time!  Abby loved shaking her party hat around.  Wearing it, not so much.

Her opinion on cake had also not changed, although we did get her to try it, and, by the end, she was really sort of going for it!  I think it was too dense for her to really get a bite of!  As Danielle said, though, she was the first kid anyone has seen that cried at her birthday cake.

If you really like watching babies smash cake, here's a video:

What a busy day, with so much excitement!  Miraculously, she did take a short nap in the afternoon after cake.  Then, it was PJs and snuggle-time with Daddy.

A pretty good end to a ONEderful birthday weekend!

A Winter ONEderland Unfolds...

About a month before Abby's birthday, this story floated around my Facebook feed.  My intent is not to start a social/political discussion, but it really struck me.  It's a letter to an advice columnist from a mom who thinks her son has decided to be gay (and she would like to convince him to change his mind) because he is trying to get back at her for forgetting his birthday three years in a row.  The focus for most people, of course, is her non-acceptance of her son's homosexuality, which I think the columnist responded to beautifully.  However, seeing as how this came out a month before Abby's birthday, and I had already been planning her birthday party for a month, I was absolutely befuddled that this mom had forgotten her son's birthday, you know, the day she gave birth to him, for not one, not, two but three years in a row.  Even if you and I have different opinions about gayness, I think we can probably agree about the birthday thing.  Now, this woman says she is "very busy with work," and I am a recovering event planner turned stay-at-home-mom, but still.

But anyway, the point of this post is not to give social commentary on homosexuality or to go on about what a horrible mother I think this woman is, but to discuss about how I may have gone a little overboard with my own little one's first birthday.  No chance I would forget this girl's special day a single time.

At the party, a friend said, "I think people just do those crazy parties so they can blog about them."  I don't know if our party was "crazy," but I'm blogging about it.  If you're bored by party-planning, just skim for the pictures or skip this one all together.  I'll post about the actual birthday goings-on soon.

The Lady with the Baby, Reprise

I realize I haven't written about any fall holidays, Abby's birthday,or Christmas.  In light of my last post, though, I'm inspired to write about an incident that happened about a month ago, right after Thanksgiving.  Festive posts to come soon!

Last February, I wrote a post about people's reactions to tiny babies. Maybe it's because Abby was/is particularly adorable and charming, but I suspect most people with small babies have people say these types of things to them.  It usually opens with something about how precious/adorable the child is, then sometimes follows up with some vaguely ominous warning about the future.  "They're cute until they start talking back."  "Just wait til she starts moving." "Can I trade my teenager in for her?" I usually just smile and nod, because what can you say?

The Sunday after Thanksgiving, Kevin and I went with friends to the Christmas tree lighting in Bel Air.  Afterwards, he, Abby and I had dinner at a local restaurant.  Sitting near us was a large group of what appeared to be an extended family, including two preteen girls.  Abby was being very charming (as usual), and was smiling and waving at everyone.  As we got up to leave, one of the mothers at the table turned to us to tell us how adorable Abby was.  I smiled graciously and thanked her, but then she added something unusual.

"It just keeps getting better and better," she said.  "My girls are so much fun.  Did you see that dance routine they did? (We had, and it was awesome.) They made that up while we were waiting in line to check out on Black Friday. People always tell you to enjoy while they're babies, but things are just so good now."

I thanked her.  It was so refreshing to have someone say this.  I had already sort of figured out that each stage has its own challenges and rewards, but to hear this offered up by a stranger was a gift.  I understand the message to "enjoy them now," but why does it so often have to be followed by, "...because you might not enjoy them later!" Which is more or less the implication.  I know my sweet girl might not always be sweet, but she'll always be MY girl and doing something wonderful.  Or developmentally appropriate that will eventually be something wonderful, in any case.  :)

The Best Christmas Gift

A little more than a year ago, we got the best early Christmas present.

  

Recently on Facebook, I posted this picture, comparing last Christmas to this Christmas:

and a friend of mine commented that she didn't get nostalgic for the early days with her kids, the way a lot of mothers do.  I replied that there are things here and there I get nostalgic about, but that, despite that precious photo from Christmas 2012, I am certainly not nostalgic about the newborn stage.  I'm reminded of a conversation I had with a pregnant friend - she said, "Birthing sounds horrible."  I paused, because in a way, birthing was horrible, but it was also wonderful (which is what I told her), because at the end, you get this incredible little person to fall in love with.  What is really horrible, I thought, hours after our conversation, is having a newborn. And the newborn stage lasts much longer than labor. I would have given birth two more times to skip the first month. But more on that another time.  Again, it's the same thing.  It's painful - in a different way than labor, for sure - but, in the same way, wonderful, because now I have a happy, playful, twelve-month old, who is a joy. And, in the grand scheme of parenthood, both labor and the early days are so fleeting.

So, while I don't long for those early days of two-hour stints of sleeping, one-hour nursing sessions, and forgetting to eat until 5PM, when I look at pictures from last Christmas, I am reminded of what a special time it was.  I remember feeling so blessed to have a family that brought Christmas to us so that we could focus on our new baby, and not have to miss the holiday.  So thankful to have plentiful hot food available, at least for a few days. On Christmas Eve, a light snow fell, and I remember hugging my sweet, eleven-day old baby to my chest, and looking out the window, feeling like everything was magical.  "This is Christmas," I thought.

And then, we tried to read The Night Before Christmas to Abby, which did not go nearly as magically as I'd imagined it would.  It ended with tears (Abby's and mine), and Kevin reading the book to his brother's dog, Stanley.

Stanley enjoyed it.  Things went a little more smoothly with Abby this year.

The point of this post?  To capture memories I didn't have the energy to get down last year, I guess, and a reminder to live in the moment with this little one, and be realistic about where we are and where we've been.  And to celebrate the blessing of our little girl and wonderful family!

A real Christmas post later!

Daddy's Little Girl

It should come as no surprise that Abby is "Daddy's Little Girl."  Really,every post about her could be titled, "Daddy's Little Girl."

Daddy and Abby on Fathers'  Day

It's fairly obvious.  After all, many, if not most, little girls are Daddy's Little Girl.

Daddy and Abby blowing raspberries, which is hil.ar.i.ous.

After I took Abby's ten-month pictures the other day, I just took a few random shots of her laying on the blanket.  And, while I've always thought she looked more like her daddy, in a few of these, she CLEARLY looks just like her daddy.

This the only picture where I think she looks like me at all:

In the parking lot of the Bel Air Library. 

There's a bit of "Palm" in the smile. That's why it's one of my favorites.  I know she'll continue to come into her own look for awhile, yet.  No matter what she looks like, though, one thing is for sure.

At Annie's Playground

She'll always be Daddy's Little Girl.

Past and Future Travels

I've been looking for inspiration to write a post, lately, and was ready to just do a, "Look! Abby's Still Cute!" post (in case you're wondering: she is) but came across something tonight that rekindled an idea for something I've wanted to write about since January.  I wanted to write about what it was like, after giving birth.  How so many things, physically, mentally, and emotionally, were unexpected and unexpectedly hard.  And how it seems like no one talks about it.  Or, if they talk do talk about it, it just doesn't sink in to the expecting-parent brain, because it's clouded with gleeful anticipation for the coming bundle of joy.

That's not the post I want to write today, not entirely.  I have a laundry list of weirdo things that I experienced postpartum, and today I just want to touch the tip of the iceberg of one of them.  

Before I gave birth, I thought that I was probably predisposed to Postpartum Depression (PPD). I've never been Depressed (with a capital "D"), but have had bouts of melancholy and a little bit of a family history.  I wasn't too worried about it, though, because I knew I would be willing to get help.  Also, there's a difference between knowing intellectually that you might get Depressed after giving birth, and another actually going through it.  Having said that, I still don't think I had PPD, just a serious, lingering case of the "Baby Blues."

I'll write another time about how I cried at EVERY. THING.  One day, a brochure for Viking Cruises came in the mail (We get these all the time.  I don't know why.)  As Abby slept, I sat in the living room, flipping through the pages that described fanciful cruises through exotic European ports, and started sobbing.  We loved to travel.  What had we given up by having this baby?  We would never get to go on one of these cruises; never see these beautiful places.  I felt a tremendous sense of loss for our old life.

Tonight, I went into our craft room to find some thread, and I stumbled upon my travel journal.

Artsy picture taken at Cafe Cubano in San Francisco with a tasty cafecito on the side.

This is a blank book my friend Liz gave me for Christmas from a market in Budapest when we visited her grandma there in December 2000.  Since I had just finished six-weeks student-teaching in London and spending weekends traveling through Europe, I decided to use the journal to keep track of where I had traveled and wanted to travel.  

I still use it to make plans for our trips, listing attractions and restaurants I'd like to visit, then going back and making notes about what we thought about them.  I also include super-helpful things like this highly-accurate map of England and Scotland:

When I came across it tonight, I flipped through it and stopped at the last filled in page from our trip to Germany.

And it's funny, because Nuremburg wasn't even the last place we went.  Like so many things, time caught up with me and I never finished planning the trip. The rest of it just...happened, I guess.  No more notes.

And that's the last big trip we took.  Our Baby Moon to Amish Country didn't even rate a page heading.

And that made me a little misty-eyed.  Remembering that trip, and thinking, as I had when I perused the Viking Cruise Brochure, that it would be a long time before we'd have a trip like that, again.

Then, I glanced up, and on the desk I saw this box of holiday cards, with a bold message on the front:

The best is yet to be.  It is here now and it keeps coming.  For all the challenges, sacrifices and exhaustion, I am generally happier than I've been in a long time.  And, while Kevin and I might never be the same "Us" we were before, I'd like to think that we still have the "Best Us" ahead of us.

PS. Here is proof that Abby is still cute:

Staying Busy and Sanity

It's hard to believe that Abby will be nine months old tomorrow!  Seems like she just turned eight months...

 

Eight months is a very serious age.

Ok, not that serious.

I initially felt a little bit at a loss when we got back from our Outer Banks vacation in July.  Having family around to play with Abby all the time sort of threw me off.  I realized that Abby and I were both ready for a routine.  We've slowly been developing one over the last two months, and I'm feeling pretty good about it, now.  Of course, it will probably change any day now, as Abby continues to change.

The main thing, for my sanity, is to make sure we have activities planned for everyday, and to make sure we get out almost everyday.  Being a stay-at-home mom in a world where most people aren't is very lucky, but can also be very lonely.  Getting out and about helps!  We try to go to Diaper Gang, a baby story time with rhymes and songs, at the Harford County Library every week. It's fun.  Abby seems to love it, and I get to talk to other mommies.  I've also joined a great online community, Chesapeake Mommies, that has a lot of useful forums and a fairly active activities calendar.  We go to as many play dates and activities as we can.  

Grocery shopping and lunch with Daddy on Thursday (usually).  La Leche League Breastfeeding Cafe at Wegmans second Monday of every month.  Free coffee with purchase of bulk beans at Coffee Coffee on Monday.  Not that I buy coffee beans every Monday, but you get the idea.

We've started going for a walk everyday, even if it's just to get the mail.  When it's hot, like it's been the last few days, we just go up to our mailbox and back (we have a very long driveway).  If it's nice, we'll do the whole street.

 

When the temperature hits the mid-80s, it means it's time for the baby pool!  It's a little easier to manage than taking her in the regular pool, and, in any case, we've been losing an algae battle for the past few weeks.  I fill the pool up in the morning during her nap, so the water has a chance to warm up, and make sure I set it in a place where there will be shade later in the day.

I had forgotten about her swing for a couple of weeks, but we've rediscovered it, and she loves it!

We also spend a lot of time in her Exersaucer and playing with her stacking rings.

I know the jig is about up, though, as she thinks about trying to move.  Which, she's not totally into just yet, but I know it's coming.  Mamas, any advice for entertainment once she gets going?

Any day now.