Today Piper got a ten monthday present, her big girl stroller!
Also, to mark her ten months- a brand new tooth poking through, her very first top tooth. I could cry just thinking about how many more teeth she’s going to get. Especially since this most recent tooth was preceded by an hour and a half long wake up Wednesday night.
Her sleep is still super wonky, and she has slept through the night ONCE since she was eight months. It’s not THAT bad, though, but it sucks.
The reason we finally bit the bullet and got her big girl stroller is because we are going to the L.A. county fair tomorrow (of course, when it hits the 80s for the first time in months) and A.) I want her to be able to look around B.) Her car seat is too hot for her to sit in all day C.) That snap n go is a pain in the ass to steer. So, I purchased a shade extender and a cup holder/organizer (the Maclaren one doesn’t have decent cup holders and this one got rave reviews), and we are set!
So far, in ten months, Piper can say “Hi”, “Bye”, “Bird” (although “bird” is missing the “D”, sounding like “burr”) and “Dada” and can pick out Woofie when asked where he is, as well as picking out Daddy in a picture. She pulls up on things, and uses them to “cruise” around (to hold onto while moving around), and attempts to stand up unassisted all the time. She’s eating chicken, and has begun to eat bites of what we’re eating (within reason). While still crammed into her 9 month sized jammies, she is obviously ready for 12 months. When that happens, she’ll become a toddler (in the store sizes).
She’s wearing size 4 diapers, nursing four times a day and drinking excellently out of a sippy cup. She still refuses to wear shoes of any kind (even the soft-soled Robeez), and has taken to climbing all over us to pretend “get away” from Woofie. Piper zooms all around while crawling, and constantly gets into screaming matches with that odd mirror baby.
While life (and work) with a ten month old is hectic and sometimes sleep deprived (yes, while my baby is “good”, she’s not a good sleeper), I wouldn’t have wished for anything different. Piper wakes with a grin every morning (and every night- sigh), and gives us so much love. With each new day she does something surprising, whether it’s pointing to the crow outside and saying, “Bir!” or slapping Paul in the face and yelling, “DADAAAAA” when I pull her into bed with us when it’s still a tad bit too early to get up.
I do not claim Piper is gifted (no matter how hard I wish I could, Paul would blast me right down- he’s so tired of the parents at school claiming their average child is gifted and deserves special treatment), I know our daughter is well within the range of all milestones- the scale is so varied at this age that it’s ridiculous to claim higher intelligence for an infant. I just know that every day is something wonderful, something frustrating, and something that makes me grin.
I must confess. I am annoyed I ended up with a c-sec after being induced, because it helps prove the “induction = c-sec” idea.
Recently, with a best friend mere weeks away from giving birth, and a few moms to be friends gearing up for it as well, I have been thinking a lot about my labor and delivery. I am looking forward to baby #2 so I can have a do-over!
Hopefully I won’t be induced next time, hopefully I can go pain med free, hopefully, the baby won’t be too gigantic that I can’t push it out.
It really bothers me to read “Induction leads to c-sections” because I had read that, and I had quoted that to my obstetrician, and she had told me inductions when you are already 2/3 cm dilated (like I was) aren’t all that bad. I’m not mad at my OB, though. We knew Piper was big- maybe not TALL, but big. She did what was best for us- my fluid levels were low, my girth was slowly rising, and she knew it was my only chance for a vaginal birth.
Oh, we tried for that vaginal birth, we did. We tried for hours and hours. I have never been that completely exhausted in my life. I do not regret begging for the relief a c-section would bring. Trust me when I say the pressure that comes from having a body that wants to birth a baby, but is also UNABLE to birth the baby (too large and sunny side up) is a nightmare. At that point, if someone had told me they were just going to go in my mouth and pull her out that way I would have applauded and opened wide. As it was, the time waiting for the OR to be prepped was interminable.
Does this mean I am sad I had a c-section? Not one iota. It means next time I’m going to tell my OB what I want, and I’m going to try again. Even if it means the exact same outcome, I’m going to try again. I’ll show that body of mine. So yeah, I’m excited at the prospect of having another baby someday. I sense a do-over in my future, and I like it.
It has taken me nearly ten months to decide on a stroller. When I was pregnant we had decided on getting a Maclaren, if only because our family and friends recommended it. Well, that and the handles are just fine for taller folk, like my 6’3″ husband.
Upon registering, we had decided on getting the second to barest boned Triumph. As with all things I want to buy, we saw the next step up, the Quest at another store we were browsing through while waiting for our crepes to be done, and after rolling it around with my purse in it (seriously, that could have equaled Piper’s weight at four months), we decided this would be a better choice.
As the months pass, Piper is gradually growing out of her infant seat. We already have one toddler seat at home, a Britax Marathon, and we need to get a slightly cheaper and smaller one for my Dad’s car. I decided we should get on ordering her stroller now, especially since she really needs to get used to facing away from us. Since Dad and I are taking our yearly trip to the L.A. County fair (did it last year at this time, while super pregnant), I figured now is as good a time as any to get that stroller.
Of course, then I started wavering on which one I wanted again. Do we really need the “fancier” Quest? Wouldn’t the Triumph be just as good? I spent literally months debating this, and recently, weeks obsessing about it.
I posted a facebook status with the question: “Maclaren Triumph or Quest?” and got a few responses that helped me decide. The major things I wanted were: A decent recline (since Piper tends to sleep in her stroller), a carry strap, a comfortable seat, and a quick fold. From what I was told, the Quest has four actual reclines, while the Triumph has a little buckle that you can use to move the seat back and forth then buckle it at that recline- so it wasn’t four SET reclines. Both are good for walking as a “tall” person (I wonder what that’s like). Their sunshades are bigger than previous models, but I will likely need an extension anyway, no matter which I chose. Basically, it was the recline and cushier fabric in the Quest that sold me.
While both have one con that constantly repeats- a small storage basket- most things I “store” under there are my wallet and keys and my inhaler. This problem was kind of removed for me by the addition the Quest has that the Triumph doesn’t have- a pouch connected to the sunshade that holds small things like that. I’ll most likely need to get the Maclaren Organizer that I was going to get if I got the Triumph anyway, too much storage is never a problem.
Finally, the nearly year-long battle of Triumph vs. Quest was decided. Then began “Which color?”
And that lasted a week. Literally, a week. I TOOK A WEEK TO DEBATE STROLLER COLORS. I am hoping I can use this stroller for #2 also, since my plan is to have #2 when Piper is done with being strollered around (I made it a word) and wants to walk. So, I wanted to get something not too feminine. I initially wanted a nice navy color, but the only one I could find was the Maclaren Quest in Zodiac. Initially I looooved it. Then I began to think, “That’s a lot of money for a stroller with stars in it.”
I then noticed… it was on sale. Why was it on sale? I started googling. Found Maclaren had voluntarily recalled strollers because of a hinge issue injuring kids. There was a simple remedy and they sent kits out for everyone to fix theirs. Then, I went to Amazon.com, where you can usually get an item pretty close to the best buy online. They had the stroller in the same colors, but a different layout.
More blue than brown.
While hunting a good deal on the Quest at Amazon, I found a listing that was full of angry reviews- it appears the customer received last year’s stroller instead of the current year’s which they had assumed they ordered.
Now, this made me wonder… was that stroller on sale an old one? In the description it said 2010, could it also be a “scam”? I emailed the company, Albeebaby to ask about the stroller, since while I was searching online, I found the same stroller- but the one with more blue- also listed on their site, and not on sale. Hm. So I wanted to ask the difference between the two, as I also noticed the full price one included a raincover, and the sale one didn’t mention it in the description. I couldn’t find the year of the full priced stroller mentioned anywhere in its description, and when I hadn’t received an email reply within four days, I called. It was “after hours” when I called, although I had called at 3:41 our time, and I had read their site wrong- thinking it was open until 7pm eastern for online orders as well as store hours. So I left a message yesterday detailing my query: Wanting to know: A.) What year is the sale priced Quest, and what year the regular priced Quest is B.) What is the difference between the two C.) If the sale priced one came with a raincover D.) If the strollers are the “recalled” ones, do they come with the recall corrections?
This morning, not even 24 hours later, I received a call about the strollers. The cheaper one is actually the newer version, and it IS one of the recalled ones, but is retro-fitted when it leaves their warehouse. Also, there is no raincover, which is a bummer, because it appears it’s included on other sites for a slightly higher amount, but given the amount of rain we get in L.A., it’s not a big deal.
Thus, a decision was made. I ordered the Maclaren Quest stroller in Coffee/Sky Blue today.
WHEW. I know Bluebell is SO tired of me talking about it, and asking her opinion of each one, I have never been so frustrated in my life!! We’ll see what happens when the stroller arrives!
I have been MIA. I’ve been swamped with plans for Piper’s birthday, taking care of my dad’s house/plants/birds/turtle while he was in Europe for three weeks, and working.
Piper is doing fine- her second tooth is making itself known- OH so cute. If you think one tooth is cute, wait until there are TWO!
See the little guy to the left?
I also need a new phone. Previously, my blackberry was a wonderful picture taker. Then, the baby got to it. Now there are four distinct scratches on the camera lens. NOT FUN.
Guess who has decided to pull herself up again? Whereas before she did it once and was not impressed, now she has realized that if she pulls up on the couch, she is at eye level to where Woofie’s laying. Piper is pretty smart, smarter than the dog now. Haha. In some aspects, at least. She just holds on to the couch and follows Woofie as he tries to scamper down to the far end of the couch, apparently thinking she isn’t able to follow him. Oh, she does. She gets right in there.
Some other news: despite my vegetarianism, we are feeding Piper chicken. The doctor was a little concerned with her level of iron and other vitamins at her last appointment, so we decided to feed her more beans, lentils and iron rich foods. This means chicken. We are cooking it for her, too!
Piper is nine days away from ten months old. How is this possible??
Possible Spoilers Ahead- Folks. Not too many, though.
Hello there,
First things first- you’re beautiful. Seriously. I’m always captivated by your photo on the back of your books.
Now, let me say that I’m a fan of yours. I joined your fan club years ago- even received a free “To Share with Friends” copy of “Something Borrowed” along with an advance copy of “Baby Proof”, signed by you and including a few chapters on a CD. Since then, I’ve become a fan on Facebook and I look forward to the Something Borrowed movie!
With that said, let me say… your books are KILLING ME. I love your writing and the emotions your characters feel are spot on to how one would expect to feel given the situations. The problem for me is how painful it is to read the various books (I even left “Baby Proof” on my shelf for awhile, unfinished) because of how intense the situations and characters are.
“Something Borrowed” and its sequel “Something Blue” were your two novel starters. I really did enjoy those books, but I found myself often seething at various characters (which I’m sure was your plan, right?), and often wishing other characters would grow a spine and just SAY something already! The character of Rachel drove me batty with her passive aggression, while Darcy needed a swift slap to the face. Marcus was a douchebag and Dex was a coward. The lying, the back-stabbing, the viciousness of it all… it literally made my stomach sick! In “Something Blue”, I was annoyed. I had gotten so used to Ethan being Rachel’s ally that I was disappointed to see him link up with Darcy- I wanted better for him. I’m sure you wrote the follow up to show Darcy’s side so people won’t think she’s such a toolbag but honestly, I found I despised her even more in the second book. Despite saying that, I’d enjoy reading a follow up. Ha, glutton for punishment here?
Next, I read “Baby Proof”. The distaste I feel for this novel is probably due to the time in my life that I happened to read it- I was unsuccessfully trying to conceive at the time. The idea that anyone wouldn’t want a baby was incredible to me. Such feelings existed? I fell in love with one of the main characters, Ben. I understood what he was feeling, and found Claudia’s refusal to give an inch infuriating. The ending was vague and left me wishing there was a concrete happy ending- which I tend to want in every book I read anyway, so take that with a grain of salt. So many things at that time left me feeling empty and wanting, so I can hardly blame your novel for making me heartsick and resentful, I’m aware.
Next came “Love the One You’re With”. To be perfectly honest, this book shamed me. I often wondered about that “one” who got away. Wondered where I’d be if we had stayed together. Like the main character, Ellen, I was semi-recently married, honeymooning in Kauai. As a newlywed, I didn’t understand how a person could be willing to lose everything just to find out what WOULD have happened if things with the “other one” had been different.
I love you, Emily Giffin. This is why I’m going to let my post-childbirth hormones go away completely before I read your most recent book- “The Heart of the Matter”. You are too good at getting me all riled up and invested in your characters- so much that I often linger on them and force friends to buy the books so we can talk about it!
A long weekend usually tends to go a little slower for me, until you equate a visit from a friend you’d never met in person. Then it becomes a fast-paced weekend getting to know them better than you already had- something you thought impossible. Although, add in meeting her husband and it becomes something different- finally the men are a part of our conversations, rather than having bits and pieces of our chats relayed to them over time. We spoke in shorthand, referring to people we both “know” and referencing things that make each other laugh, but our husbands look at us blankly.
This weekend passed so quickly, and now I’m left with an old feeling, if with very different circumstances. See, before Paul and I got together, I was in a long-distance relationship with a man for a year. I’d fly up to see him every other weekend for four days and three nights. The Sunday before I’d leave (I’d go up Friday am, and come home Monday night) I’d start to get sad, partially because he always worked when I was there and I had a lot of time to myself (Hm, it’s obvious how important that relationship was to him, eh?) to think about leaving. Then, Monday evening, as he put me on that shuttle back to the airport (a two hour drive- GOD, was I a doormat), I’d spend the whole trip absolutely melancholy. Since I’d get on the plane up north with a chick novel with some sort of love story- all romantically minded, I was left with the same book for the flight home- when everything in my heart was hurting and full of doom and gloom. On the flight home I’d cry, looking out the window hoping I was going unnoticed by fellow passengers and flight attendants. Upon arrival back home, I’d put on a happy face for whomever was picking me up until I got into my bed that night, crying myself to sleep, missing him so badly.
I bring this up because I miss her. While Paul asked me this morning if I was going to be sad I said, “Well, it’s not like she was ever really here- I mean, it’s not that she lives here and is moving away forever- she was never really ‘mine’ to begin with, as demented as that sounds.” Today, as I was sitting here, I realized I felt that familiar feeling of loss, except this time I can’t immediately delve into researching my next visit like I used to, which was quite the salve for my heartbroken self. No, now I have to be thankful that I was able to meet them at all, since our funds go directly to expenses and Piper, and in 9 weeks, they’ll have themselves a little boy who will take up all their minutes as well, and who knows when the next meeting will occur? I’m feeling greedy, like I had a taste of what real, in person friendship could be and I want it- I know that while I must make do with daily chats and emails, I want more. I want to be able to call her on a weekend to see if she’s interested in going to the mall for an hour or two.
This morning, we arrived at the restaurant for breakfast, and I made sure to have a table that could accommodate our motley crew of an infant sleeping in a stroller, a gigantic husband, and a pregnant woman (because we had been there when I was pretty far along and I had to eat sideways for lack of belly room). I sent her a text saying, “Already have a table, just walk on through when you arrive”.
As we got settled, we talked about what we were going to order- Bluebell asked if anyone was interested in having some of the side of macaroni and cheese she was getting, and we all laughed as I interrupted her to assure her that yes, I would be delighted to eat some of it. We placed our orders while Piper woke up. I readied her breakfast (pears in the Boon Squirt spoon, as Mr. Bluebell hadn’t seen the purpose of it when registering and Bluebell and I wanted him to see how useful it was). Paul and I let Laura and John into the newest Piper happening- a new tooth! Just a day after we remarked to them about how it’s been two months already and still has (had) only that lone chomper. We asked about their dinner out last night, when Mr. B was able to show Bluebell how cool the LA Farmer’s Market was, and we opened up the gift they had bought for Piper- a trick or treat bag shaped like an owl, just like the costume Bluebell and I had decided Piper was going to wear for Halloween.
Breakfast came, and as had become the tradition, we traded dishes and tasted the food of our guests. It’s so nice, having a couple we can do that with- since we have no real couple friends here. We talked and talked, laughed and watched Piper who was entertaining as usual, then it got to that time- when they had to go. They are spending the next week heading up the coast to a wedding at this weekend, they needed to get on the road as soon as possible. We took pictures, with Piper, with the couples, outside the restaurant. We hugged. Said goodbye and hugged again. I told her I was probably going to cry, which I successfully managed not to do until that last second. They were parked one way, we were parked another way. I told them to have a safe drive and have a great time, we advised them on which route would be the most enjoyable, then we went our separate ways. As I said before, I was doing fine, until I turned around to watch them leave. At the same time, they had also turned around and we waved and continued walking. That’s when I started crying.
Now, as Piper sits in her highchair (the one they gave her), I keep sneaking a glance at her, knowing that when she sees them again, she’ll likely have no memory of this meeting. Despite her usual habit of hating everyone and never letting anyone hold her, Piper let both Bluebell and the mister hold her, something I was thrilled about. I keep telling myself that it was the best thing ever that they were able to see Piper in person, hold her and play with her- see and hear all the things I often tell Bluebell about (the pooping grunt, the little tooth, her growling). Then I think, “Yes, but what about the next year? What about her first birthday? What about Baby Bluebell? I want to see him when he’s born!”
So, while this weekend was wonderful and beyond all things I had ever imagined, it passed too quickly. I want Piper to be able to grow up with the joy that is her Auntie Bluebell. I defy anyone to claim you can’t love a friend you met online, albeit how you ended up meeting.
Since after all, Bluebell is the best friend I’ve had in a while.
Yesterday, I met someone. This someone is a weddingbee blogger, but it was not the typical Bee Meetup you hear about. No, this time it was a very special meetup for one special reason- I’ve known her since before we were Bees! Yes, we met up online at another website (not online dating, not a video game, nothing hinky at all) and became buddies- five years ago.
Over the past five years we’ve gotten engaged around the same time (give or take a few months), married around the same time (again, give or take a few months), then we both embarked on starting a family. I started before she did because I’m older than the dirt we stand on and she was still young and gorgeous.
Over the past five years she’s been a best friend to me, supportive and helpful, funny and sarcastic, brilliant and kind, hilarious and understanding. Many of the other bees couldn’t believe we hadn’t met yet, we are often so connected online. Imagine my elation when she told me last year that they MAY be able to come out to LA September 2010. Then, imagine finding out that it was actually going to happen! For days we’d sign off online saying, “Talk to you soon- I’m going to see you in TWO DAYS!” Then, Friday she signed off saying, “I’ll see you tomorrow!”
Part of me was worried- what if I’m not likeable in person? I wouldn’t be shocked. What if I was dull? What if, for reasons unknown, I was just not like what she had imagined over all these years and our friendship post-meetup was forever changed? I honestly can’t tell you what’s going to happen later in our friendship, now that we’ve had dinner, lunch, dessert and will have breakfast tomorrow together- the five of us (Paul, Piper and I and Bluebell and Senor Bluebell). While part of me is hoping she recognizes how uninteresting I am when nervous and when I am trying so hard to impress, then I hope she doesn’t realize I was trying to impress her/them. Deep down, in person I’m shy, and even when knowing so much about a person from five years of conversations you can still totally blow it in person.
I’m so happy I didn’t cry when I met her! I was standing at the door to the restaurant, feeling somewhat like a blind date- only I knew her, knew her face, knew her voice. I saw them coming up the ramp to the door, turned toward Paul and got crazy eyes.
Paul filmed it. As I said, I’m awkward.
Tomorrow they leave, and I’m not going to guarantee I won’t cry. I’m angry with myself because I haven’t taken any pictures with them so far, and hellloooo, when else am I going to see them? They have a baby due November 7th, and who knows when we’ll hit NY, our little family. Still, I MUST see their son when he’s born. Well, not when he’s born, that’s weird, but after.
See? She’s not even here and I’m rambling. I have to say, I have enjoyed every minute with them, she has the most adorable belly ever, and she feels like family.
We are finally, real life friends acceptable to everyone else. Not that I cared.
As a kid, I remember camping trips, long drives in the cab of our pickup truck- oh so anxious to finally stop so I can climb into the camper at the back. Sleeping on a bed transformed from a table was such a novelty. I remember the scent of the Sleepytime tea I’d drink to get myself to fall asleep after we arrived at our destination.
I remember sleepovers at my cousin’s house- having my name made out of Bisquick pancake batter, sometimes flavored with mint or strawberry extract. Memories of afterschool activities spent at Grandma’s house; selling plums from her tree to construction workers with my cousin, Ellen, making our own “perfume” from rose lotion, petals and water to sell. Saving money in a Nescafe jar to buy Grandma a present, but spending it on candy an hour after we started saving.
Making time capsules from the aforementioned Nescafe jar (man, my grandma had a lot of these), in which we put letters and pictures and packs of sour apple bubble yum.
Grandma had a tradition- a tin of Almond Roca candy opened at every Christmas. After she passed on (mere days before Christmas 1996), the tradition remained, but the luster had dulled. The race to grab one and eat it as soon as possible had ceased, but still… the tin stays there, almost as if by bringing the candies back every year, we’re somehow ensuring Grandma is there with us. Watching her great-grandchildren tumbling on the carpet, reaching for her grandchildren- now parents themselves.
Last Christmas, my first as a parent, while it was hectic for me, I tried to sit back on the bench with my cousin Amy- who is the same age as my brother (3 years older than Ellen and I) and survey our family. Paul was holding Piper and another baby (I believe it was Danny, a second cousin), and I had to hold back tears because I thought yet again, how much Grandma would love this.
When you come from a home that has a lot of bad memories mingled in with the good, you have to treasure the good ones even more so they can help block the bad ones from sullying your memories completely.
While I know that every relationship and family has its ups and downs, I hope Piper never has the kind of bad memories I have from my life.
If I could choose the kinds of memories for Piper to keep, I’d want her to remember her daddy getting her from her crib every morning- saying hello to her “friends” (a framed picture of Mickey and Minnie Mouse). I’d want her to remember her baths, and the fun she has with Woofie. The morning cuddles that have turned into morning tumbles and smacks.
In the future, I hope she’ll remember Disneyland, and playing with her cousins, Mommy making pancakes with blueberries, cupcakes with funfetti frosting, and her first Daisy scout meeting. I hope she’ll remember selling Girl Scout cookies, and her first campout. I can’t WAIT until we can share the first toasted marshmallow over a fire, and her first dip into the ocean.
I hope Piper will have memories of the laughter that rolled through our house all the time, and the tickles, and kisses her parents shared. I hope Piper remembers the most used word in our house is “love” and hopefully not “No”.
I can’t wait until she has memories of making Mommy or Daddy breakfast all by herself, and when she gets her first call from a boy. I’m looking forward to her first “real” valentine- not the kind your teacher makes you give to every student in class.
I guess you can say that I’m hoping for memories through hers- I am a mother now, can you believe it? My daughter’s memories will be mine, just from outside.
School is back in session, which means Paul is back at work. This also means the three of us are back to waking up in the 6am hour, and getting to work at 7am. Honestly, aside from the waking up while it’s still dark thing, I enjoy it. In the morning, I get my work done by 7:30 at the latest. After that, it’s time for Piper and I to take a walk.
If I’m feeling frivolous, I’ll pop down to Starbucks on our way out for a salted caramel hot chocolate (you guys need to try this, it is WONDERFUL). Lately, the mornings have been damp and with a chill- not at all like the summer mornings I remember! Piper is in her stroller, with her blanket up to her chin, fingers in her mouth while I’m in a hoodie and trying to keep warm (and dry).
When we begin the walk things change for me. I’m not an employee taking the office distraction out to fall asleep so I can get some personal work done. No, I become one of them: the non-working moms. The mom who can take her baby out for a leisurely stroll and not have to be worried about time constraints . No, I blend in. Instead of people assuming I’m the nanny at our noontime walk, they think I’m the Mommy, which I am.
The residential neighborhood bordering my work is idyllic. Every house is different and gorgeous, and for that half hour every morning I can pretend I live in one of them. People getting into their cars to go to work nod their heads at me and say, “Good Morning!” To them, I’m just a neighbor out for a walk with her daughter. I try to become that, sniffing the roses as I walk past, imagining our house is the one with the little pushcar in the front for Piper to enjoy.
I nod back at the residents, silently complimenting houses for having a very neat front yard, or a funny bumper sticker. I glide along, already knowing where the uneven sidewalk hits, and coo at Piper while she begins to nod off.
Our favorite season is almost here, Fall. We started dating in the fall (both times), got engaged in the fall, and got married in the fall. My birthday falls on November 5th, and now our daughter’s birthday is in November as well. We spent many years at Disneyland enjoying the decorations Fall brings, as well as long walks with Woofie at Mar Vista Park, the leaves turning golden as they tend to do. We spend the month of October watching scary movies, and planning costumes. We buy apple cider and grab a blanket to cozy up on the couch with. There is pumpkin carving, and buying of candy- even though we never get trick or treaters. This year, there will be trick or treating for Piper- a new tradition.
The morning air smells like Fall, and it thrills me. I can’t wait to share our traditions and create new ones with our girl. Even if it means I have to pretend to have another life every morning in order to experience it when not at work.
Piper is 9 months old. I can’t post her stats because A.) We don’t have a scale, B.) She didn’t have a 9 month old appointment. I was thinking recently that I still vividly remember the first few months of her life, as I haven’t yet been hit with Momnesia.
What is Momnesia? Well, from a few encounters with other moms (not all my friends, just a few random mommies), it appears some mothers forget how rough the first few months can be. Whether or not you have a “good baby” (wink wink, Kimberly Michelle!), bringing home a newborn is HARD. You’re starting from scratch- everything from nursing to bathing to functioning with an infant constantly in your arms. You’re learning how to work as a new family- this little person you’ve brought home has completely changed your priorities.
The thing is… a lot of the competitive moms (as evidenced by their habitual use of, “Oh, your baby is still XXX? Mine hasn’t done that since she was an infant!”) seem to forget that. Their babies slept through the night at 4 weeks (“Sleeping through the night” is technically 5 solid hours, but many think something like 8/9-6a is STTN like we do), yours didn’t? Their babies were reaching for them at a month. Their babies were smiling at 2 weeks- it wasn’t gas- it was smiling. It’s painful, really, to be on the receiving end of this.
Despite how well you know all babies mature at different rates (your baby could crawl early, but walk late, big deal!), you can’t help but feel like she’s putting you down. Then, insult upon injury, they say, “I’m sure your little girl will do it eventually, I wouldn’t worry”. Um, up to you saying something, I hadn’t even thought about it, but thanks.
As I said before, I remember vividly every moment of Piper’s first six weeks. I remember bringing her home, and sitting there holding her as Paul went to my Dad’s house to get Woofie. I remember looking around, terrified to put her down. I crept to the bassinet and gently placed her in it, surrounded by white cloudy bunting, angelic. I also remember the noise that came from our baby then. Luckily (?) for us, Piper has never been a big crier, since birth she’s been more of a complainer- with grunts and whines used to convey her displeasure at various things (continuing up to now, only tears and cries are heard when she gets hurt or surprised).
At night, I remember how she’d sleep. Sure, she’d sleep a few hours at a time. On my chest. Meanwhile, I’d be wide awake, my heart beating madly, trying to find something (on our crappy no-cable tv) on past 3am, because I was POSITIVE the second I’d fall asleep she’d wake up. Many times I’d attempt to place her in the crib, in the bassinet… nothing worked.
In case I get Momnesia, remind me of this, please. I was up all hours of the night, wandering our 1000 square foot apartment, a newborn in my arms- going to the fridge to get the gripe water, going back to her room to get the mylicon. Pacing, pacing, pacing. Her loud complaining making me try anything to get her to soothe, rocking, patting, shushing. I remember the frantic diaper changing, the nursing in the glider. Intensely I remember nursing her while the other boob leaked through my breast pad, through my tank, dripping down onto the arm of the glider. I remember falling asleep while holding her, since she had finally fallen asleep. What next? I remember waking up in a fright as I was just beginning to drop my arms to tip Piper out onto the floor. I called out, “SHIT!” Utterly horrified by what had happened.
Of course, I remember being jealous of the moms who fed their babies formula because it metabolized slower thus making them sleep longer stretches at night, since my breastmilk only kept her full for two hours. While thinking that, I also remember being thankful that I didn’t have to contend with bottles, and heating up things and measuring powders at 3am. To everything motherhood there are bright and slightly less bright sides.
Then, I remember going to bed, turning on Seinfeld (at 10pm) while Paul fell asleep. Piper was tucked into the epitome of the infant image on my chest, I had one hand cupping her tiny diaper covered tush, the other hand splayed on her back. She was sleeping and breathing on me. As per usual, I remained vigilant while the others were sleeping- watching over my daughter and listening to my husband snore, wondering how in the world a dog sneeze can wake that baby while the loud snore next to her head didn’t. I went into my nighttime tv watching rituals- Seinfeld, then Friends, then King of the Hill, Married with Children. Piper would awaken and I’d take her into the nursery and I’d nurse her, rock her, soothe her. Eventually she’d fall back to sleep and I’d take this chance to go to sleep myself as I carried her back to our bed, climbed up on the step stool Paul got for me (super high bed), and fall alseep knowing I’d get hopefully two hours of sleep at that time. At this point she was probably five weeks old. Paul was home for Christmas break, and he remembers waking up to me sleeping upright, with Piper shifted – she was on her knees on the bed up against my hip, hands up under her face which was turned to the side- like she was praying. She woke up this way for a week when we decided that while it was the most precious thing, it was terrifying in it’s riskiness.
I remember the first time she slept in her bassinet- it was three hours. I was overjoyed. Although I missed the soft rise and fall of her breathing on my chest every night, I was happy she was safe, and happy I could finally sleep on my side again. I also remember sleeping on my side and my boob falling out of the useless crossover sleep bra and the compression from sleeping on my side caused my boobs to leak all over the bed.
So far, I remember everything. I remember the pacing, the worrying when she’d choke on my super fast breastmilk letdown, the thinking that that time in our life would never end- and I’d never be able to sleep again. I also remember placing her in her crib for the first time and sleeping soundly for that first set of three hours because I wasn’t hating Paul for snoring and waking her up. Finally, I remember boxing up all the clothes up to nine months, knowing she’ll never, ever wear them again and crying.
