I think I need a break from the internet. I feel like I'm drowning right now. I'm at a point where I'm having trouble remembering what it's even like for The Hubby to be home, even though I miss him immensely and he's finally coming home this weekend. It's only been 5 weeks, but it's been a big 5 weeks for Baby G. She's sitting up now, wants to be in the middle of everything, she's adding in some consonants with her babbling, she is growing and changing so fast, and now to top it off I think we're in serious teething mode. She's suddenly staying up way longer than she had been, almost doubling her awake time between naps, and is fighting her bottle and pacifier and not going to sleep when she's clearly tired. It's exhausting for both of us. The crib training is going just fine for bedtime, but as difficult as it's been to get her to take naps she's ending up in her swing for those more often than not.
I started doing the 30 Day Shred, and since I don't want to have to stop I wait until I know Little Bit is totally out. But she's going to bed later, so I'm staying up later, sometimes not getting to bed until 1 am because I'm using nighttime to decompress. Which really doesn't matter much, because I have trouble falling asleep before then anyway. Since switching to the crib she's been getting up earlier (not at an unreasonable time, just earlier than 8-9am), soooo my sleep is not what it should be. I haven't needed naps in months, but I've taken one (or tried) every day this week.
The end of this month brings my brother's wedding, and we'll be driving back home for that. Somehow this has turned into a trip requiring us to bring both vehicles. I'd rather not talk about that other than to say I'm not a fan of the idea, to put it lightly, but at least my sister will be keeping me and Baby G company for the return trip. But I'm also kind of stressing about this trip because there are so many people I want to see but not enough time. I guess I'll find out who's really interested in seeing us! ;)
I just can't wait for The Hubby to come home. And I'm looking forward to some chill time. I'm glad my sister isn't a high maintenance pain in the ass! She's awesome, and I'm glad she'll be staying with us a while. I hope we don't bore her too much.
I guess I'm back in, or still in, really, a pretty bad spiral. I hate that it coincides with The Hubby's return, but hopefully that will help to turn things around again. In the meantime I'm not really participating on my birth board (and a related group I started on the same site), Facebook has been pissing me off to no end, I'm not wanting to go anywhere or do anything, and every time my phone goes off with a call or text I give it a dirty look and seriously contemplate not responding. That may also be connected to a tendency for people to call when I've either just barely got Little Bit to sleep or she's close to it, and of course the phone vibrating rouses her. So far this week I've had phone calls, a package delivered, the cats fighting over the window in her room, lawn mowers by the back door, and leaf blowers right outside the front happening as soon as Baby G goes to sleep. And *only* at those times. Nothing while she's awake--which has been the vast majority of the time the past couple days. Sigh. It's like the world is conspiring against me.
I miss the days when I could just sink in and let the emptiness of depression swallow me up for a while. The more I have to bury it or fight it to take care of Alyson the longer it drags on. I'd rather spiral all the way down and come completely out than keep doing this bounce. But that's probably just the depression speaking, wanting me to just give in already. Oh, the insidious poison it spews. It does it so well.
But for now, ain't nobody got time for that!
Friday, May 10, 2013
Thursday, May 2, 2013
This is my version of suspenseful.
My little love has been sleeping in her swing (naps AND overnight. I know, I know.) since about February. She had gotten really badly congested and being in there helped her. After she got better... The pack n play in our room where she had slept before had been filled up with diapers (clean!), wipes, changes of clothes, etc. Her room was and still is a wreck from moving and she has never really slept in her crib before. Or spent much time in there really. So since she slept SOOOO well in her swing I just kept her there.
But the past few days she's been really fussy, trying to twist around in there, and just basically getting super frustrated. So for her nap this morning we laid down and took a nap together in my bed (she has slept there before a few times). I tried the swing again for her next nap and had the same results, so I put her in her crib.
She's just... laying there. Not fussing, not sleeping, just looking around. I hope this works soon, because she's definitely not going to be able to enjoy her swing much longer. I think she has definitely been letting me know that she's ready for something different, so she may be a lot easier to transition to her crib than I thought she would be.
Fingers crossed.
But the past few days she's been really fussy, trying to twist around in there, and just basically getting super frustrated. So for her nap this morning we laid down and took a nap together in my bed (she has slept there before a few times). I tried the swing again for her next nap and had the same results, so I put her in her crib.
She's just... laying there. Not fussing, not sleeping, just looking around. I hope this works soon, because she's definitely not going to be able to enjoy her swing much longer. I think she has definitely been letting me know that she's ready for something different, so she may be a lot easier to transition to her crib than I thought she would be.
Fingers crossed.
Tuesday, April 23, 2013
Belief.
I just spent a good five minutes trying to type out a post asking for advice on my online birth community. And in trying to find my words, I found my answer on my own.
Redirection is a powerful, important skill to master. We'll call it the "bean dip" tool, thanks to said birth community. Say someone asks you a question or makes a suggestion, and it's really none of their business. You say something vague, then offer up the "bean dip"--the subject change. It can be literal, "Well, I hadn't heard of doing that before! Hm! *pause* Would you like some bean dip/a drink/a slice of pie?" or it can be the figurative discussion of the weather/current events/whatever shallow conversation happens to be your go-to.
My belief system (or lack thereof) is something that occasionally requires me to use my bean dip skills. Like many personal choices, religion is one of those things where it seems like people feel if you do something different, you are judging them for doing things their way.
I do not care in the slightest what other people do or don't believe in. But it can be really really important to some people to care about and try to influence what other people do or don't believe in. And it's exhausting.
I have a number of friends to whom their faith is extremely important. I have been very lucky in that the vast majority of my friends happen to not act like they pity me or fear for me or otherwise be condescending. I do not need people to "pray" for me (or if they do, I certainly don't need them to tell me about it), I do not feel as if I am missing anything. My life is complete and happy and meaningful without religion. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but I don't think I am, and I do not believe in hedging my bets, which is what so many would rather I do "just in case." If a wink and a nod and an apology surrounded by air quotations is all it takes to get into your heaven, then I think there are bigger problems than my refusal to participate.
But I wasn't meaning to get into a philosophical discussion here. My main point is that as with many things people can be "out" about, from child-rearing styles (more controversy there than you might think) to sexual preferences to political leanings, belief (or lack thereof) is sometimes a very difficult subject to broach with new people. You don't know where a new person stands on various issues, and just like with a new romantic relationship you don't want to hit the heavy topics right off the bat without making sure there's a foundation of some sort there. But sometimes it pops up right off the bat, and you have to make a decision.
This is the decision I was wanting to seek advice about in my birth community. How do you politely decline an invitation to a religiously-focused gathering? Whether a Bible study or church event, whether it's a casual or formal thing, it's difficult to say "No, but thanks for the invite!" It can turn into a question about whether it's a day/time/childcare issue, a one-time thing or a "ask me again later" thing, and just like with many other personal issues people feel like they have the right to ask about details. So you have to not only say no thanks, but also give a response that is specific enough to indicate that future invitations are not favorable but vague enough to not spur more questions.
What answer did I find on my own as I tried to organize my thoughts enough to put them into words asking for advice?
"What's the worst that can happen?" I will keep things light for as long as that answer is enough. "Thanks, but I'm not a Bible study/church event/whatever kind of person. Bean dip?" If that becomes not enough, I will be honest and respectful--as I always am. If the respect isn't reciprocated, then that is not a relationship I need to pursue anyway. If it's a dealbreaker for them, then I will gladly respect that as well. I am not a martyr, I am not a person who believes you should be forced to suffer any relationship that causes you pain or other negativity.
Not every new friendship is meant to last. Sometimes it's just that step you need to get to better places. Sometimes that new friendship becomes so solid it's like you have always known each other, even if you can count on one hand the number of times you've met in person and you are complete opposites on some major issues. Some friendships are meant to be light, airy, surface friendships; some are meant to reach straight into your soul. Both are important. So we'll see where this one ends up on that continuum.
Redirection is a powerful, important skill to master. We'll call it the "bean dip" tool, thanks to said birth community. Say someone asks you a question or makes a suggestion, and it's really none of their business. You say something vague, then offer up the "bean dip"--the subject change. It can be literal, "Well, I hadn't heard of doing that before! Hm! *pause* Would you like some bean dip/a drink/a slice of pie?" or it can be the figurative discussion of the weather/current events/whatever shallow conversation happens to be your go-to.
My belief system (or lack thereof) is something that occasionally requires me to use my bean dip skills. Like many personal choices, religion is one of those things where it seems like people feel if you do something different, you are judging them for doing things their way.
I do not care in the slightest what other people do or don't believe in. But it can be really really important to some people to care about and try to influence what other people do or don't believe in. And it's exhausting.
I have a number of friends to whom their faith is extremely important. I have been very lucky in that the vast majority of my friends happen to not act like they pity me or fear for me or otherwise be condescending. I do not need people to "pray" for me (or if they do, I certainly don't need them to tell me about it), I do not feel as if I am missing anything. My life is complete and happy and meaningful without religion. If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, but I don't think I am, and I do not believe in hedging my bets, which is what so many would rather I do "just in case." If a wink and a nod and an apology surrounded by air quotations is all it takes to get into your heaven, then I think there are bigger problems than my refusal to participate.
But I wasn't meaning to get into a philosophical discussion here. My main point is that as with many things people can be "out" about, from child-rearing styles (more controversy there than you might think) to sexual preferences to political leanings, belief (or lack thereof) is sometimes a very difficult subject to broach with new people. You don't know where a new person stands on various issues, and just like with a new romantic relationship you don't want to hit the heavy topics right off the bat without making sure there's a foundation of some sort there. But sometimes it pops up right off the bat, and you have to make a decision.
This is the decision I was wanting to seek advice about in my birth community. How do you politely decline an invitation to a religiously-focused gathering? Whether a Bible study or church event, whether it's a casual or formal thing, it's difficult to say "No, but thanks for the invite!" It can turn into a question about whether it's a day/time/childcare issue, a one-time thing or a "ask me again later" thing, and just like with many other personal issues people feel like they have the right to ask about details. So you have to not only say no thanks, but also give a response that is specific enough to indicate that future invitations are not favorable but vague enough to not spur more questions.
What answer did I find on my own as I tried to organize my thoughts enough to put them into words asking for advice?
"What's the worst that can happen?" I will keep things light for as long as that answer is enough. "Thanks, but I'm not a Bible study/church event/whatever kind of person. Bean dip?" If that becomes not enough, I will be honest and respectful--as I always am. If the respect isn't reciprocated, then that is not a relationship I need to pursue anyway. If it's a dealbreaker for them, then I will gladly respect that as well. I am not a martyr, I am not a person who believes you should be forced to suffer any relationship that causes you pain or other negativity.
Not every new friendship is meant to last. Sometimes it's just that step you need to get to better places. Sometimes that new friendship becomes so solid it's like you have always known each other, even if you can count on one hand the number of times you've met in person and you are complete opposites on some major issues. Some friendships are meant to be light, airy, surface friendships; some are meant to reach straight into your soul. Both are important. So we'll see where this one ends up on that continuum.
Tuesday, April 16, 2013
Crash.
I was just thrown off by you today. It happened at the end of the day, too--right when I was getting ready for bed. I hope sleep still comes.
Really, though, it wasn't you, it was a family member of yours. He showed up in your daughter's life through the wonder that is Facebook. I'm not sure when that "add" happened, but it showed up via a comment on her status tonight, and I was sent reeling.
Because what do you do when someone pops back into your life, however tenuous the connection? You creep. You do the Facebook creep. You see their recent statuses, and pictures they have on their page (depending on their privacy settings, of course). But it's not enough. You wonder "Do you remember me? It was so long ago. My name is different now. We hardly saw you even then. Have you changed? Do you have the same problems you did then? The same interests? Are you happy? Is your life the way you want it to be?" Maybe these thoughts don't fully form, but when we do the Facebook creep, this is the information we seek. Of course every situation is different, but the last 5 questions pretty much always apply.
So in doing the Facebook creep, I'm reminded of other connections. Connections to a family I haven't had in years (which unfortunately reminds me of all the others as well). To a life I haven't had in years. To that place in time, where you were here, and we could see you if we wanted to. Talk to you if we wanted to. Maybe we wouldn't have, but the option was still available to us. It hasn't been for almost 14 years now. What would your own Facebook page look like today, I wonder?
I was going to wait to bring this up, but I'm feeling the push to do it now. It would have made for a helluva post in a few more months, but I think I'm wrong about that and it was meant to happen now.
My daughter was born on the 13th anniversary of your death. When I went in to my regular checkup two days before and they decided to test for pre-eclampsia, I knew I'd be having her on that anniversary. It was just right. I made all the proper noises ("I'm sure everything's fine, blah blah blah") but I knew what was meant to happen and I began mentally preparing for it. Still, I cried walking out of my followup appointment two days later on the 9th, because they told me I needed to go to the hospital to be induced immediately. I didn't cry out of fear, or sadness, or worry. I cried because finally something good would come of that day. The anniversary of your death would now be shared with the celebration of my daughter's birth. What has been a bad day since 1999 is now a happy, if slightly bittersweet, day.
And I mean it when I say it has been a bad day since then. Not every year, but most years since I have been in a funk around that time. Of course that's natural around anniversaries of this sort. Sometimes specific, negative events occur on that day in particular, for no apparent reason. That day in 2010 sparked a chain of events that led to me leaving a job that I loved, and ending up in a job that I don't even know how to describe on the love/hate scale. But I know that I felt unfulfilled, and like I was opting out of making an effort. I felt like I was giving up a little (a lot) on life.
Then on that day last year, November 9 2012, I gave birth to a wonderful, perfect little girl. She is my life. I wish you could meet her. Maybe it would take you back to when your own wonderful, perfect little girl was born, a bright spot in your own life (and ours as well). But maybe this was your way of saying you're still influencing our universe a little, that you're paying attention. I don't believe in any god, but I do believe in energy. I believe in love. I believe you had a hand in making that day into a positive experience for me, for our family. We have a physical reminder that yes, there is sadness and loss in our lives, but there is also life, and beauty, and love, and hope. They all thrive in the same dark places.
I don't figure tonight's "event" will lead to any sort of reconnection beyond a shared acknowledgement of a Facebook status. Was I wrong to not push? To not say "Hey, long time no see!" in a way that acknowledges a shared past? I wouldn't turn down an outreach, but I'm not ready to do the reaching out myself. Maybe we both just think "Nah, they don't remember."
But I do remember. And it all comes crashing back to me.
Really, though, it wasn't you, it was a family member of yours. He showed up in your daughter's life through the wonder that is Facebook. I'm not sure when that "add" happened, but it showed up via a comment on her status tonight, and I was sent reeling.
Because what do you do when someone pops back into your life, however tenuous the connection? You creep. You do the Facebook creep. You see their recent statuses, and pictures they have on their page (depending on their privacy settings, of course). But it's not enough. You wonder "Do you remember me? It was so long ago. My name is different now. We hardly saw you even then. Have you changed? Do you have the same problems you did then? The same interests? Are you happy? Is your life the way you want it to be?" Maybe these thoughts don't fully form, but when we do the Facebook creep, this is the information we seek. Of course every situation is different, but the last 5 questions pretty much always apply.
So in doing the Facebook creep, I'm reminded of other connections. Connections to a family I haven't had in years (which unfortunately reminds me of all the others as well). To a life I haven't had in years. To that place in time, where you were here, and we could see you if we wanted to. Talk to you if we wanted to. Maybe we wouldn't have, but the option was still available to us. It hasn't been for almost 14 years now. What would your own Facebook page look like today, I wonder?
I was going to wait to bring this up, but I'm feeling the push to do it now. It would have made for a helluva post in a few more months, but I think I'm wrong about that and it was meant to happen now.
My daughter was born on the 13th anniversary of your death. When I went in to my regular checkup two days before and they decided to test for pre-eclampsia, I knew I'd be having her on that anniversary. It was just right. I made all the proper noises ("I'm sure everything's fine, blah blah blah") but I knew what was meant to happen and I began mentally preparing for it. Still, I cried walking out of my followup appointment two days later on the 9th, because they told me I needed to go to the hospital to be induced immediately. I didn't cry out of fear, or sadness, or worry. I cried because finally something good would come of that day. The anniversary of your death would now be shared with the celebration of my daughter's birth. What has been a bad day since 1999 is now a happy, if slightly bittersweet, day.
And I mean it when I say it has been a bad day since then. Not every year, but most years since I have been in a funk around that time. Of course that's natural around anniversaries of this sort. Sometimes specific, negative events occur on that day in particular, for no apparent reason. That day in 2010 sparked a chain of events that led to me leaving a job that I loved, and ending up in a job that I don't even know how to describe on the love/hate scale. But I know that I felt unfulfilled, and like I was opting out of making an effort. I felt like I was giving up a little (a lot) on life.
Then on that day last year, November 9 2012, I gave birth to a wonderful, perfect little girl. She is my life. I wish you could meet her. Maybe it would take you back to when your own wonderful, perfect little girl was born, a bright spot in your own life (and ours as well). But maybe this was your way of saying you're still influencing our universe a little, that you're paying attention. I don't believe in any god, but I do believe in energy. I believe in love. I believe you had a hand in making that day into a positive experience for me, for our family. We have a physical reminder that yes, there is sadness and loss in our lives, but there is also life, and beauty, and love, and hope. They all thrive in the same dark places.
I don't figure tonight's "event" will lead to any sort of reconnection beyond a shared acknowledgement of a Facebook status. Was I wrong to not push? To not say "Hey, long time no see!" in a way that acknowledges a shared past? I wouldn't turn down an outreach, but I'm not ready to do the reaching out myself. Maybe we both just think "Nah, they don't remember."
But I do remember. And it all comes crashing back to me.
Sunday, April 7, 2013
Eat it, self-doubt!
It's definitely been an interesting couple weeks since I last posted. More on that later.
When I took my little love in for her 4-month appointment (she rocked at getting her shots, by the way!), based on their scale she hadn't gained any weight since her 2-month appointment. She had grown in length and head circumference, but apparently was still 12.5-ish pounds. The doctor didn't seem concerned; it wasn't like she had fallen off the charts altogether, and she has doubled her birth weight. But I was a little thrown off my game, so I did a stupid thing and opened my big mouth about it. We agreed that the fact that Little Bit is teething and had been pooping constantly for a while most likely led to her losing a little. But the doc suggested I start her on rice cereal (which I have been against using for SOOO many reasons) just for the extra calories, and to bring her back in 2 weeks for a weight check.
As soon as I walked out of the appointment my internal debate began. Deep down, I really did not believe anything was wrong with her. I felt like the pediatrician made the suggestions he did more to appease a first-time mom rather than out of a sense of concern for Baby G's health. Which I have issues with anyway, because I don't feel like I need to be coddled, and for the most part I am NOT an alarmist or paranoid parent who is terrified by every cough or sniffle. I have a background in child development, and I have spent the better part of three years monitoring debates and trends and doing a hell of a lot of research regarding raising children. I knew then and I know now that all the studying in the world can't truly prepare you for a baby, so I didn't go into this with unreasonable expectations. (Unless you count my expectation that a high-needs demon child would inevitably be what my husband and I released upon the world... I was totally wrong there. This kid is absolutely amazing.) My point is, I am not an idiot, I am not uneducated. I don't do things just because others are doing it or because I think it would be neat or fun, I do things because I have done my research and feel like it is best for my child and our family.
But while all this was running through my head, I was still trying to fight my concern over a number. Her weight. I thought it "couldn't hurt" to start her on cereal, JUST so she would put on some weight. Even though everything in me was screaming that she was okay, I was beginning to doubt myself for the first time. So I bought some organic rice cereal, and a bunch of spoons and bowls. I had been wanting to get those anyway, just to have around for when we do get started. When we got home I mixed up some of the cereal and tried to give her a few bites. She wouldn't/couldn't take it. Her tongue-thrust reflex was still pushing the spoon out. She was NOT ready. I didn't want that for her. We were done.
So we just carried on about our merry little way, and I continued following her lead regarding feedings. She ate as much or as little as she needed, as often as she needed. At that point she would typically eat around 30 ounces a day. As we were coming up on the followup appointment, Baby G developed a nice little case of pink eye. It was Easter Sunday (naturally), and I went ahead and took her into Urgent Care so we could get it treated ASAP. Of course, they weighed her... over 15 pounds!!!
My thoughts: somebody's scale was wrong. There is just no way this kid gained 3 pounds in 2 weeks. My scale at home had had her around 14-15 pounds prior to that 4-month appointment, which is why I was so damn surprised when they said she was just 12 pounds and some change. I called to cancel the followup appointment and explain the situation, since the purpose was to check her weight, which had been done, and I didn't want to bring pink eye into a well clinic. (The urgent care clinic is a feature of her regular clinic.) The lesson I learned from all this? My mama instincts rawk. I will try my hardest not to doubt them again.
When I took my little love in for her 4-month appointment (she rocked at getting her shots, by the way!), based on their scale she hadn't gained any weight since her 2-month appointment. She had grown in length and head circumference, but apparently was still 12.5-ish pounds. The doctor didn't seem concerned; it wasn't like she had fallen off the charts altogether, and she has doubled her birth weight. But I was a little thrown off my game, so I did a stupid thing and opened my big mouth about it. We agreed that the fact that Little Bit is teething and had been pooping constantly for a while most likely led to her losing a little. But the doc suggested I start her on rice cereal (which I have been against using for SOOO many reasons) just for the extra calories, and to bring her back in 2 weeks for a weight check.
As soon as I walked out of the appointment my internal debate began. Deep down, I really did not believe anything was wrong with her. I felt like the pediatrician made the suggestions he did more to appease a first-time mom rather than out of a sense of concern for Baby G's health. Which I have issues with anyway, because I don't feel like I need to be coddled, and for the most part I am NOT an alarmist or paranoid parent who is terrified by every cough or sniffle. I have a background in child development, and I have spent the better part of three years monitoring debates and trends and doing a hell of a lot of research regarding raising children. I knew then and I know now that all the studying in the world can't truly prepare you for a baby, so I didn't go into this with unreasonable expectations. (Unless you count my expectation that a high-needs demon child would inevitably be what my husband and I released upon the world... I was totally wrong there. This kid is absolutely amazing.) My point is, I am not an idiot, I am not uneducated. I don't do things just because others are doing it or because I think it would be neat or fun, I do things because I have done my research and feel like it is best for my child and our family.
But while all this was running through my head, I was still trying to fight my concern over a number. Her weight. I thought it "couldn't hurt" to start her on cereal, JUST so she would put on some weight. Even though everything in me was screaming that she was okay, I was beginning to doubt myself for the first time. So I bought some organic rice cereal, and a bunch of spoons and bowls. I had been wanting to get those anyway, just to have around for when we do get started. When we got home I mixed up some of the cereal and tried to give her a few bites. She wouldn't/couldn't take it. Her tongue-thrust reflex was still pushing the spoon out. She was NOT ready. I didn't want that for her. We were done.
So we just carried on about our merry little way, and I continued following her lead regarding feedings. She ate as much or as little as she needed, as often as she needed. At that point she would typically eat around 30 ounces a day. As we were coming up on the followup appointment, Baby G developed a nice little case of pink eye. It was Easter Sunday (naturally), and I went ahead and took her into Urgent Care so we could get it treated ASAP. Of course, they weighed her... over 15 pounds!!!
My thoughts: somebody's scale was wrong. There is just no way this kid gained 3 pounds in 2 weeks. My scale at home had had her around 14-15 pounds prior to that 4-month appointment, which is why I was so damn surprised when they said she was just 12 pounds and some change. I called to cancel the followup appointment and explain the situation, since the purpose was to check her weight, which had been done, and I didn't want to bring pink eye into a well clinic. (The urgent care clinic is a feature of her regular clinic.) The lesson I learned from all this? My mama instincts rawk. I will try my hardest not to doubt them again.
Saturday, March 16, 2013
Out of sync.
Baby Girl and I have not always been on the same page, but generally since she was born we've at least been in the same book. The past week or so, though, it seems like you might not even find us in the same library.
It looks like she's hitting another growth spurt, and according to the world of the internets she's due for a "4-month sleep regression"/growth spurt/19-week wonder week. Her sleep habits haven't changed for the worse at this point, she is actually more likely to sleep later now (even accounting for the time change), and her naps are sometimes longer than 20-30 minutes now. She might stay down for a couple hours at a time. We'll see how that progresses... I try not to get used to that kind of awesomeness, because babies are nothing if not unpredictable.
She's been waaaay fussy and clingy the past few days, and I've only been able to let her play "by herself" on her playmat or in her super seat a couple of times. Otherwise if I set her down she gets upset. Don't fret, I am fine with letting her fuss for a second while I run to pee, I'm no martyr. But I don't want to just let her fuss for the most part. If she's fussing, there's a reason for it, and I aim to help. Even if the only reason is wanting to be close to Mama. Right now I can get things done ... sometimes ... while she naps. I am fine with all of this. It's thrown us a little off, but nothing we can't handle.
Then this poor kid turned into a regular poop machine. Yes, I'm talking about my baby's poop. She went from a fairly regular once/twice a day to four or five dirty diapers in a day. No runny or weird stuff and she's not struggling with it or in pain, so I'm not overly concerned about it, but it's a change. The same thing happened around her 3-month mark, except it was from her other end: she started spitting up a lot when she didn't really do that often before. It was enough I took her to the pediatrician thinking it might be reflux, but not too long after that it stopped. I think this time around she's working on perfecting the systems on her other end.
I have no problems changing a ton of dirty diapers. But one unfortunate side effect of all these poopy diapers is that Little Bit has developed her first case of diaper rash. I'm proud we made it this far without that pesky little pain, honestly. In any case I've been putting some Boudreaux's Butt Paste to good use, and that's where the out of sync feeling has been coming in.
I've gone through so many diapers the past few days because suddenly a sometimes occurrence has become an almost-every-time occurrence. It doesn't fail, I'll be in the process of changing her diaper, and as soon as I start applying the rash cream she starts peeing! It's almost comical, even though I've had to do so many baby wardrobe changes, changing table cover changes, and going through multiple diapers in one, um, "sitting." It's just frustrating right now because of the diaper rash. I'll have her all clean and dry and be applying the cream, then have to wipe her off and do it all over again. The repeat cleanings like that aren't good for the diaper rash, even when using the gentlest methods. So the poor kid is all diaper-rashed, and her little body is still apparently trying to get some things straightened out, leading to more diaper changes and more irritation. Gah.
But we're working on it. Based on her behavior today I think we might be on the way out of this growth spurt. I just adore this kid... Even when she's having a fussy day, she's still such a sweet happy baby so much of the time. I feel so bad for her for having such a hard time right now, I hope she does come out of this funk soon.
She has her 4-month well visit this coming week, so she'll be getting her shots and I'll be definitely be talking to her pediatrician if any of these issues haven't resolved by then. But so far, the Mama instincts are saying everything is fine and this is a wait-and-see kind of thing. I love so much that she's growing and changing and getting things figured out, but it just puts us out of sync for a while before we find our groove again.
It looks like she's hitting another growth spurt, and according to the world of the internets she's due for a "4-month sleep regression"/growth spurt/19-week wonder week. Her sleep habits haven't changed for the worse at this point, she is actually more likely to sleep later now (even accounting for the time change), and her naps are sometimes longer than 20-30 minutes now. She might stay down for a couple hours at a time. We'll see how that progresses... I try not to get used to that kind of awesomeness, because babies are nothing if not unpredictable.
She's been waaaay fussy and clingy the past few days, and I've only been able to let her play "by herself" on her playmat or in her super seat a couple of times. Otherwise if I set her down she gets upset. Don't fret, I am fine with letting her fuss for a second while I run to pee, I'm no martyr. But I don't want to just let her fuss for the most part. If she's fussing, there's a reason for it, and I aim to help. Even if the only reason is wanting to be close to Mama. Right now I can get things done ... sometimes ... while she naps. I am fine with all of this. It's thrown us a little off, but nothing we can't handle.
Then this poor kid turned into a regular poop machine. Yes, I'm talking about my baby's poop. She went from a fairly regular once/twice a day to four or five dirty diapers in a day. No runny or weird stuff and she's not struggling with it or in pain, so I'm not overly concerned about it, but it's a change. The same thing happened around her 3-month mark, except it was from her other end: she started spitting up a lot when she didn't really do that often before. It was enough I took her to the pediatrician thinking it might be reflux, but not too long after that it stopped. I think this time around she's working on perfecting the systems on her other end.
I have no problems changing a ton of dirty diapers. But one unfortunate side effect of all these poopy diapers is that Little Bit has developed her first case of diaper rash. I'm proud we made it this far without that pesky little pain, honestly. In any case I've been putting some Boudreaux's Butt Paste to good use, and that's where the out of sync feeling has been coming in.
I've gone through so many diapers the past few days because suddenly a sometimes occurrence has become an almost-every-time occurrence. It doesn't fail, I'll be in the process of changing her diaper, and as soon as I start applying the rash cream she starts peeing! It's almost comical, even though I've had to do so many baby wardrobe changes, changing table cover changes, and going through multiple diapers in one, um, "sitting." It's just frustrating right now because of the diaper rash. I'll have her all clean and dry and be applying the cream, then have to wipe her off and do it all over again. The repeat cleanings like that aren't good for the diaper rash, even when using the gentlest methods. So the poor kid is all diaper-rashed, and her little body is still apparently trying to get some things straightened out, leading to more diaper changes and more irritation. Gah.
But we're working on it. Based on her behavior today I think we might be on the way out of this growth spurt. I just adore this kid... Even when she's having a fussy day, she's still such a sweet happy baby so much of the time. I feel so bad for her for having such a hard time right now, I hope she does come out of this funk soon.
She has her 4-month well visit this coming week, so she'll be getting her shots and I'll be definitely be talking to her pediatrician if any of these issues haven't resolved by then. But so far, the Mama instincts are saying everything is fine and this is a wait-and-see kind of thing. I love so much that she's growing and changing and getting things figured out, but it just puts us out of sync for a while before we find our groove again.
Thursday, March 7, 2013
Branching Out.
Last week I took a baby step. Monday I took a slightly bigger step. And yesterday I took a leap.
I've been extremely fighting the downward spiral for the past few weeks... Really, since a week or two after we moved. I've been feeling isolated by not knowing anyone here but the couple of work friends The Hubby has brought home here and there. Unfortunately they are all singletons who live in the barracks, so no wives or girlfriends for me to meet and maybe connect with. They're cool dudes, but that's not helpful to me.
I've been terrified to leave our home by myself with Baby Girl. Unfamiliar surroundings, stressing over "what ifs," and terror over the insanity that is the traffic situation (out of the *few* times I have ventured out on my own, someone has either started crossing over into my lane--into the space OCCUPIED BY ME--or made the more popular move of darting out in front of me, causing me to have to stand on my brakes to avoid slamming into them at 40-45 mph. One of those times I am not even sure how a wreck didn't happen.) has led me to withdraw into what's familiar and safe. Our home.
Logically, I know that the only way to get more comfortable with the area and getting out on my own with Little Bit is to actually do it, to get out there. But I kept putting it off and putting it off, letting the fear and depression run everything. I kept making excuses about traffic (I still feel that one's valid, some of those near-misses would have been so much scarier to me if she had been in the car with me), or about the weather not being right, or what if she fusses too much in the car or in wherever we end up going, etc. Or, "Hey, I checked the mail today. No need to do anything else." My capability for accomplishing tasks became a one task per day limit. And I check the mail almost every day, so there you go. Besides, The Hubby could go make the grocery/diapers runs when he got off work. No need for me to do things. If I start to do more than one thing, I quickly panic and become overwhelmed. That leads me to go back to doing nothing and becoming depressed about it. It's so easy to get into that spiral when I have a built in excuse, Baby Girl.
But last week I decided I was going to take steps. A few weeks ago I had signed up for a L.I.N.K.S class about the unit my husband is attached to, where free childcare would be provided, and I wanted to have some getting-out experience under my belt beforehand. I knew the class would be an excellent opportunity to not only learn about what to expect for the next couple of years, but also to meet people. Specifically other Marine wives, and handily they would be wives who would be from the same unit (even though from different job areas, of course). So I would be meeting people! But first I wanted to know I could venture out on my own with baby and the world wouldn't end. Logically I *knew* this, but depression doesn't give a shit about logic.
So after working up to it for a few days, I took my Little Bit to the mall last week. We walked around for a while, when she got fussy I took her into the nursing room and took her out of the carrier to help her fall asleep, then went back to walking around a little bit before heading back home. I had fed her before we left, so she was happy and alert until she had gotten sleepy, but she went to sleep quickly and easily. Earlier this week we went to Walmart by ourselves instead of just waiting to send The Hubby (he has to come home and change out of his cammies, Marines don't wear them in public), and again she was happy and alert, just checking everything out around us.
Two outings, and the world didn't end. We didn't die. She didn't have shrieking meltdowns in public. Neither did I. The outings were a success.
So yesterday was the day for the class, and although I seriously thought about not going because it was raining and windy outside I told myself I was being ridiculous and went. I had packed up Little's diaper bag the night before, so off we went. I actually had to wake her up around 7:20 so she could eat and we could leave. I cried leaving her at the daycare (which was right next door to the class), but I toughed it out, learned a lot, and met some awesome people. I visited her at lunch and got her to sleep, then visited her again at our next break, then picked her up after the class and we went home. She did really well, except she didn't eat much. But she did eat, and she did manage to take a couple short naps.
Apparently, she can be left with people I don't know and receive perfectly good care. And she won't die, and neither will I. I can meet new people, with whom I can exchange phone numbers and email addresses. And I won't die. I can find other groups to join so that I'm not just hanging with military folks, and can find kid-friendly groups at that. And I won't die. Et cetera.
The lesson of this story is that no matter what depression says, I can leave the house. I can meet people. I can participate in society. I can do all this while handling an amazingly sweet baby girl.
And I won't die.
I've been extremely fighting the downward spiral for the past few weeks... Really, since a week or two after we moved. I've been feeling isolated by not knowing anyone here but the couple of work friends The Hubby has brought home here and there. Unfortunately they are all singletons who live in the barracks, so no wives or girlfriends for me to meet and maybe connect with. They're cool dudes, but that's not helpful to me.
I've been terrified to leave our home by myself with Baby Girl. Unfamiliar surroundings, stressing over "what ifs," and terror over the insanity that is the traffic situation (out of the *few* times I have ventured out on my own, someone has either started crossing over into my lane--into the space OCCUPIED BY ME--or made the more popular move of darting out in front of me, causing me to have to stand on my brakes to avoid slamming into them at 40-45 mph. One of those times I am not even sure how a wreck didn't happen.) has led me to withdraw into what's familiar and safe. Our home.
Logically, I know that the only way to get more comfortable with the area and getting out on my own with Little Bit is to actually do it, to get out there. But I kept putting it off and putting it off, letting the fear and depression run everything. I kept making excuses about traffic (I still feel that one's valid, some of those near-misses would have been so much scarier to me if she had been in the car with me), or about the weather not being right, or what if she fusses too much in the car or in wherever we end up going, etc. Or, "Hey, I checked the mail today. No need to do anything else." My capability for accomplishing tasks became a one task per day limit. And I check the mail almost every day, so there you go. Besides, The Hubby could go make the grocery/diapers runs when he got off work. No need for me to do things. If I start to do more than one thing, I quickly panic and become overwhelmed. That leads me to go back to doing nothing and becoming depressed about it. It's so easy to get into that spiral when I have a built in excuse, Baby Girl.
But last week I decided I was going to take steps. A few weeks ago I had signed up for a L.I.N.K.S class about the unit my husband is attached to, where free childcare would be provided, and I wanted to have some getting-out experience under my belt beforehand. I knew the class would be an excellent opportunity to not only learn about what to expect for the next couple of years, but also to meet people. Specifically other Marine wives, and handily they would be wives who would be from the same unit (even though from different job areas, of course). So I would be meeting people! But first I wanted to know I could venture out on my own with baby and the world wouldn't end. Logically I *knew* this, but depression doesn't give a shit about logic.
So after working up to it for a few days, I took my Little Bit to the mall last week. We walked around for a while, when she got fussy I took her into the nursing room and took her out of the carrier to help her fall asleep, then went back to walking around a little bit before heading back home. I had fed her before we left, so she was happy and alert until she had gotten sleepy, but she went to sleep quickly and easily. Earlier this week we went to Walmart by ourselves instead of just waiting to send The Hubby (he has to come home and change out of his cammies, Marines don't wear them in public), and again she was happy and alert, just checking everything out around us.
Two outings, and the world didn't end. We didn't die. She didn't have shrieking meltdowns in public. Neither did I. The outings were a success.
So yesterday was the day for the class, and although I seriously thought about not going because it was raining and windy outside I told myself I was being ridiculous and went. I had packed up Little's diaper bag the night before, so off we went. I actually had to wake her up around 7:20 so she could eat and we could leave. I cried leaving her at the daycare (which was right next door to the class), but I toughed it out, learned a lot, and met some awesome people. I visited her at lunch and got her to sleep, then visited her again at our next break, then picked her up after the class and we went home. She did really well, except she didn't eat much. But she did eat, and she did manage to take a couple short naps.
Apparently, she can be left with people I don't know and receive perfectly good care. And she won't die, and neither will I. I can meet new people, with whom I can exchange phone numbers and email addresses. And I won't die. I can find other groups to join so that I'm not just hanging with military folks, and can find kid-friendly groups at that. And I won't die. Et cetera.
The lesson of this story is that no matter what depression says, I can leave the house. I can meet people. I can participate in society. I can do all this while handling an amazingly sweet baby girl.
And I won't die.
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