Ravages

My daughter nurses, at times, like she's at war. She flails, grunts, kicks, grabs, scratches, pulls, pinches and ... My favourite ... bites and rears her head backwards. It's ... shall we say ... awkward.

The problem is not so much the pain, as now pulling close to three years of nursing has left the area somewhat deadened in feeling. It's the wear and tear. The Girls, they aren't so pretty as they once were.

Now I know this is inevitable with aging, baby or no. It's not like I was thinking I'd be blessed with youth forever.

But someday, I imagine, my daughter will happen upon me in my naked form and ask why they are "like that" and I'm not sure I'll be able to resist telling her "because nursing you was like trying to nurse a wolverine". Lest she never attempt herself to provide me with grandchildren.

Also

I do confess that there are a few things about the three month mark I am relieved about:

1 hitting three months gets her out of the MOST vulnerable stage of babyhood. She's had her first vaccinations and now getting exposed to colds etc is less of a big deal. Oh, still not a good thing. But there's a big difference between a three week old baby with a mild fever and a four month old with same.

2 although we're not completely free and clear, hitting three months means we're almost out of the danger zone of the dreaded c-word: colic. She could still get fussier, but it's less likely now. I keep my fingers still crossed all the same though ....

Three Months

As of today, The Girl is three months old and we have officially survived the 90 day bootcamp of newborn baby.

I remember getting to this point with The Boy and breathing a sigh of relief and feeling terribly proud etc etc. It will all get easier now!

But the curse, if you will, of second time parenting is that I know that there's no magic bullet of easiness. No sighs of relief this time around. Parenting is still relentless.

On the flip side, don't get me wrong, I think it's easier the second time. While I know there's no magic bullet of easy, I do know what the coming months will bring: more smiles, more laughing, more cooing, an altogether more interactive child. The time between six months and two years is a wonderful time to parent. She's already started grasping toys and eating them; I'm so looking forward to her first crawling, first words, first steps.

And I might also add that another (good) reason I'm not breathing a sigh of relief is that new babyhood was easier the second time around. Not to say it was easy, per se. But having your first child completely upsets your world, and nothing is ever the same again. This time around, knowing what was coming, it wasn't so much of a shock. Instead of worrying about every little thing, second guessing all my parenting decisions, I have the leisure to enjoy her more. She's not on a schedule? Meh. Lots can change in nine months, don't worry about it. She hasn't pooped today? Meh, she's eating and peeing and not upset, it's nothing. She won't sleep and is fussy? That's ok, I know what to try and she will sleep eventually.

(not to say sometimes I'm not crazy. Just a lot less so than last time.)

So if I'm not breathing a sigh of relief today, it's just because the last few months weren't as bad as I feared, and I know the coming months will be neither awful nor blissful. There will be days I cry because I'm so overwhelmed; there will be days I get all the laundry done and I clean the kitchen and put away toys and go for walks and entertain both my children.

In short: it's just life.

(but can I just add for the record: mah baybee!!! Where has the time gone!! Three months!!! She'll be off to college before I know it!! Etc etc.)

Free hands!

Unlike my son, my daughter as an infant will actually acquiesce to being put down. It's astonishing to me. I go so far as to say that I think she actually prefers being on her own every once in a while. While I was pregnant I was offered a floor play mat for infants and I (apparently thinking my two children would be exactly the same) declined it, so I took myself to the consignment store yesterday and bought the cheapest one I could find -- still not believing she would take to it.

(And also realizing it would within mere moments be covered in cat hair and descended upon by four-year-old boy. Which was another reason I declined the offered hand-me-down.)

She. Loves. It.

Oh, she's not content to lie there all day, but I am typing this post on the computer instead of one-handed (and ineptly) at the iPhone. Whee!!

In light of this and the fact that it's hot, and she dislikes being hot and therefore close baby carriers have become a love/hate situation, I hauled, this morning, our stroller out of storage. I cleaned it up a little, checked it over, and placed her in it because I needed a ton of stuff at the drug store and MAN, is that little stroller basket easier than carrying back diapers, wipes, and assorted baby goods along with a 14 pound baby.

She lasted 1.5 blocks before bursting into terrified tears. And this from a baby who actually rarely cries.

At least some things don't change, I guess. And carrying a baby while pushing a stroller laden with goods is still easier than carrying them.

It's true what they say

Morning comes early these days. 6:30 or so The Boy wakes. I buy another half hour with iPhone bribery (bad Mommy!) and then The Girl wakes by seven. These recent nights she wakes only twice, usually 3 ish and 5 ish, so I'm often half awake at 6:30 anyway. I try to sleep by 10 pm most nights, earlier if I can.

This morning was no different, except I got us out of the house. He's always in a better mood if you get him out of the house, but convincing him is hard. So after breakfast of mostly strawberries and much cajoling ... Not to mention infant feeding, dressing, soothing, etc. ... Out we went.

There's a local park, near the rec centre, he wanted to go to. Already at not quite 9am there are three softball games in full swing. (heh) There is also, crucially, a coffee shop.

Yes.

Coffee.

I've been a tea totaller for years. I like coffee. Like it a lot. But it hits me like a ton of bricks, so I prefer the more mellow jolt of tea.

But life, these days, hits like a ton of bricks too. Never ending infant care. House work. Endless laundry. Cooking. Diapers. Night wakings and early mornings. It's not bad. I'm actually content, very content, with life these days. I have a purpose and there's something very satisfying about that.

But it is true what they say: after the second, you get a coffee machine.

OTOH

The Girl continues to be a bit grumpy and as comfy as my rocker is, my back aches after several hours in it. A deep ache, unrelieved by subtle shifts in position that I attempt. I miss going out. I miss folded laundry. I miss doing other things.

But I also realize that this is one of the most important and wonderful things I will ever do. My daughter knows I am there for her 100%. She finds comfort in the world as she gets to know it, and comfort with me.

And for myself, I know I will never get these days back. I kiss her sleepy head, smooth her hair, stroke her limbs. I feel her soft skin and brush my lips over her forehead, marveling at the feel of it. This is it, the last one. I can't believe she's almost three months old already, and I know the coming months will speed by just as quickly. And I'm still overwhelmed by her beauty, and by my love for her.

And this is why I keep rocking for hours, despite the bone-deep ache. I would do anything for her, and holding her close is a small piece of heaven.

Isolation

I am a person comfortable with being alone. I like it; some days I crave it as much as any other life-giving substance, as time alone is as necessary to me as air and water.

But I confess that sometimes, these days, I feel lonely. I miss adult companionship, someone to talk to. My daughter is fussy, so I am more home-bound than I would like, and while I'm getting to read more, the tiny part of me that enjoys socializing misses people.

Of course, in a year I'll be bemoaning my lack of personal time. It's feast or famine, of course.

Things I have learned with a fractious baby

1 rocking in a rocking chair and reading an iPhone makes me vaguely headachy

2 reading a hardcover book and rocking a baby is difficult

3 rocking a baby all day makes getting anything else done hard

4 a baby who will not lay down / sit / sleep / go in a car seat / do anything other than rock and nurse is frustrating

5 my rocking chair, ancient and inherited from older relations, moves slowly in a circle around to the right if you rock in it steadily for long enough. I have no idea why. Do I push harder with one leg? Do I sit askew? Are the rockers themselves ill-positioned?

I wonder how long it will take me to go 360 degrees around in a circle.

I have a feeling my daughter wants me to find out.

This is how I lost 60 pounds last pregnancy

Today my daughter is fractious. We spent all morning in bed, nursing, clinging and napping. If I moved, she woke. And complained. So we nursed.

This afternoon, determined to get out of the house, I put her in a carrier and set out for the store. She was not amused. I had to walk fast, keep moving, jiggle her up and down to keep the wailing at bay. By the time I got home, I was a sweaty mess. I felt like I'd just done 30 minutes of cardio. With weights. In the sun. My abs ache.

Ah well. Could be worse. At least my clothes will fit by the end of the summer.

Blargh

7pm, and I feel frazzled. Rubbed raw, shaky. I'm tired, I haven't been sleeping well, and my daughter has responded by wishing to be held and rocked pretty much all day. She is asleep by herself, still, for the first time all day. I myself feel like I could use a swift shot of whiskey.

And I really am not a hard liquor girl.

It's fine, of course, it is all fine. We are all well and hale and fine, and I am just chafing at small things, letting the little get under my skin in post-partum hormones and lack of sleep. I remember around this age the last time I called my husband once or twice and asked him to come home from work as I was feeling so bad; it's not that bad now.

This too will pass.

And tomorrow we're off to a yard sale. Why, you ask? Because our four year old indignantly told us his disappointment that he'd never been to a yard sale, so we have decided to indulge what is apparently a lifelong wish. To go to a yardsale. He is excited, and we are bemused. Long may his wishes be so easy to grant.

I'm probably the last person around to hear about this (I often am), but I just watched this video, where a man who survived Auschwitz goes back 63 years later with his daughter and five grandchildren and dances in front of many of the Holocaust sites in Poland ... I have to say, I realize why some people might find it offensive, but to me, it gave me hope. First of all, I want to note that I don't think I have any right to judge the actions of a man who survived such a horrific thing, and if he wants to go back there and dance I say: That's HIS choice, and I applaud him for it. And for another ... well, isn't that just the biggest affirmation there is? Someone tried to wipe out a race, and 63 years later this man comes back and thumbs his nose at it -- he not only survived, but he has five grandkids. There was evil in the world, and it didn't succeed. There's something terribly life-affirming in that.

And there's nothing wrong with life-affirming, IMHO.

Growth

This morning, putting away laundry, I told myself I really had to do something about my daughter's clothes situation. Which is to say, clean out her bureau. There are tons of things in there that don't fit, given she's grown 2.5 inches and gained about 5 pounds since birth.

I picked through and filled the box for consignment already started. And it was going well until I came to the little sleepers she wore when first at home.

You know, I'm no fan of pregnancy. I love the babies that come from it. I love feeling the baby in me. But the physicality of pregnancy ... Meh. I'm glad that I won't be doing that again.

But I'm sad that my baby has outgrown her newborn sleepers all the same. I'm sad that this is it for holding a soft newborn close to me. I do love that. A lot. And I've enjoyed it even more this second time, when I'm more comfortable being a mom.

I kept the little blue sleeper she came home in. I know one day I'll look at it and cry a little. Just a little.

Shot

Poor baby got her first vaccines yesterday. She's coping very well, but watching her cry was Very Hard.

I am a devoted vaccinator, though. I wasn't with The Boy. Oh, I did it and all. But I had misgivings and doubts. This time around I don't.

Why?

Because of the fact that my son, at 12 months old, came down with a serious kidney infection caused by strep bacteria. The kind that's preventable by vaccines. He was a week away from his final booster. So no, this infection couldn't have been prevented. But had he come into contact with the bug a month later, it could have all been prevented: the days of fever, continued clinic visits, three days in hospital, needles, IVs, a screaming sick baby, painful tests and months of follow up. And I do mean months.

Not to mention the horrifying IV accident he had in hospital which required two plastic surgery consults, two months of bandaging, and from which he still carries a scar.

So that's my plug for the day: vaccinate! The alternative is worse. Trust me: ours was a minor one with a happy ending and it still pains me to think about it.

She laughs

My daughter laughed today, for the very first time. True it was a gurgly half laugh, not a perfect giggle, but that didn't stop me from trying the same thing over and over and over so she'd do it again.

It might not be perfect but it sure was awesome.

Summer

On Wednesday the temperature climbed 15 degrees over the previous week and we were suddenly aware that it was in fact summer and it hadn't just passed Vancouver by this year. It was over 30, and we were sweltering. I'm just not that good with heat; its suddenness somehow made it that much more brutal.

Two days later, the evening is overcast. It's not cool, exactly. Cool-ish. Comfortable, I guess. Gone are the plans for the day at the beach tomorrow. This might be it until next year. It is Vancouver, after all.

Two hands to type, nothing to say

Most of my blog posts and emails these days are typed one-handed on my iPhone. This is easier than on the computer -- compact screen, for one, and it auto-corrects, for another. And let me tell you, typing with one hand I need the latter rather desperately.

As it happens I have a rare moment when my daughter is asleep on her own, and I have two hands to type. And yet ... nothing to say. Hi internet! [waves]

This is your brain on sleep deprivation

I should have known. I should have, even without experience. When I woke up Sunday morning the first thing that hit was the headache. The tight-band-around-the-head awfulness with the occasional migraine throb thrown in for fun. Then I realized that my body hurt. All over. And the kicker? The engorgement. The nastily painful engorgement that strangely got no less painful with nursing.

My legs felt like lead. I wanted nothing more than to go back to bed but dammit this was the only part of the weekend I was really looking forward to, lunch out with The Man. So I gulped a couple advil and got dressed. After all. It was just engorgement. And muscle pain from the bad bed and carrying a baby. And a headache. I get those all the time. All of them. Together. But heck! It's nothing!!

Out we went. I felt a tiny bit better. But that afternoon I felt worse again ... But just took two more for the pain and kept on going. I didn't have a fever! Nothing can be wrong!

That night I slept poorly. I kept waking up. The first time? FREEZING. Man, it's cold in this basement! The second time, same thing. The third -- man, am I ever HOT. Who put all these covers on me?

And let's not forget the 3am hour of sobbing because clearly I have breast cancer what with this pain and all. Teh crazy, she comes with fever and exhaustion, apparently.

Yes, clearly, I had my first brush with mastitis. Two days on, things are fine. The second day after the mild fever broke I still had some pain, and now I'm just tiiiiiii-red. Very very.

It just makes me shake my head in wonderment. I know about mastitis. I know it's common. The midwives and my doctor talked about it, what to expect, what to do. I never had it with The Boy and wasn't expecting to get it this time I guess. But this one only wakes once a night, and I'd slept funny the other night on that side.

Never thought I'd be wishing for a kid who nursed MORE at night.

Nadir

I woke up this morning feeling like hell.

I'm tired. I'm headachy. I'm not as bright as I want to be. I'm at my parents sleeping on a mattress on the floor, and my body hurts. My daughter has decided the car seat is torture, but my arms -- and mine only -- are bliss. My son is dealing with sharing his mom and doesn't ... Have the emotional reserves to deal with everyday life. He's experiencing life on full-bore: it's either GREAT and he's shrieking in delight, or it's HORRIBLE and he's sobbing. The ricochet from one to another is exhausting. And let's face it: the bloom is off the newborn rose. I'm tired of being on call 24/7. I'd like a few hours off.

And I think to myself: no, it isn't you. It's that this it it: the nadir of your life. Life with a newborn and an adjusting preschooler IS HARD. there's just no two ways about it. Of COURSE you're exhausted and overwhelmed. Of COURSE you are. Of course you feel like hell some days.

But then the key is: it's only going to get better. The Boy will adjust. Grow up, be more mature and responsible. The newborn will be ... Less new born and realize the car seat isn't so bad. I will be more rested and relaxed.

And looking farther forward, I have two great kids, a great partner and a nice career and things are just looking up. The three month mark is just around the corner and it all gets better from there.

I just have to get through the days one at a time. Just keep on keeping on. The only way out is through.

While shopping for leggings for my infant daughter was horrified to discover a pair of skinny jeans in size 0-3 months. What is this world coming to??