Tuesday, December 22, 2009

Marital Conversations

WORKING: Ooh, my knee is killing!
TREV: Ibuprofen's on the counter.
WORKING: It's from rocking him. I'm going to call it "Baby Knee".
TREV: Or "Mac Knee." Get it?
WORKING: Ha!
TREV: And when he's older and gets pimples we'll call it "Macne".

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Friday, December 18, 2009

Marital Texting

(306) WORKING: Mac choked pretty bad. He's fine now but it scared the hell out of both of us.
(306) TREV: Holy crap. On what?
(306) WORKING: Milk. But it came out of his mouth and nose and he couldn't breathe to clear it.
(306) TREV: Oh God. But he seems okay now? How did you help him?
(306) WORKING: I let him clear it. But I was getting ready for first aid...
(306) TREV: Whew. Are you okay?
(306) WORKING: Yeah... now...
(306) TREV: Full of excitement this kid.

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Friday, October 30, 2009

La Maison

Trev had to perform an intervention this morning. Mac and I are out of sorts with each other. After 10 minutes of him puking all over me and screaming in my face, I handed him over to his dad, the other option being to throw him out into the snow (you know, just to cool off. I wouldn't have left him out there, people. Well, for long).

I think the problem is that he's only sleeping in two hour chunks at night, which means I'm also only sleeping in two hour chunks, and this during a week when school couldn't be heavier. Maybe he's picking up on my stress vibes? I dunno.

Thankfully Trevor had the week off, cuz otherwise he'd be coming home to a screaming child and a sobbing wife. As it is, he's rocking a balancing act that involves cooking, house cleaning, office management, dog walking, baby rocking and garbage hauling.

And there's a lot of garbage to haul. Did I mention my dad is gutting our basement? The house was sold with "a finished basement", which I guess technically it was, if illegal, leaking, moldy, and nowhere-close-to-code counts as "finished". Dad's taken it down to the concrete foundation. And therein lies the beauty; our house was built in 1946 and there are just a few small hairline-style cracks in on only one wall of the original foundation. It's reassurance of exactly why we bought it.

(By the way, Dad, I had a dream that I came down the stairs and you were taking a sledge hammer to the floor. "I just can't help it!" you said)

I don't know what we'd do without Dad. If it weren't for him, Trevor would be coming home to a screaming child, a sobbing wife AND a drafty, nicotine-stained pink living room. Can anyone say murder-suicide?

And there's no way we could have done any of this ourselves. Trevor and I almost divorced over the simple painting of our bedroom (I'm sure you didn't know it at the time, honey, but it's true, we almost did). In the last year, Dad's managed to plumb and install our washer/dryer off of the kitchen, re-insulate the living room and restore the original hardwood floors. He also redid all of the duct work in the house, re-shingled the addition, and, oh yeah, built and insulated a garage.

So I guess what this post proves is that I have some really handy men in my life. Yeah, I'm pretty damn lucky.

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Friday, October 16, 2009

Dear Mac: Three Months Old


A.k.a. MonkeyDoodle, MackieDoodle, MonkeyButt, PumpkinFace, Booger, etc..

Today you laughed at me for the very first time. I was ‘scaring’ you in a boo-like fashion, really close to your face, and you were loving it with your big, wide, toothless grins. Then you laughed. A very definite open mouthed, “aha”! I did it again just to confirm, then I texted your father to boast. Naturally you haven’t done it since.

Here’s what three months looks like:
  • You watch everything. You stare when the dog or cat walks by. You stare at Grandpa with his goatee and the same eyes as you. You stare at Auntie Mari's big smile. You lock eyes so easily with your Dad and your Grandma A., telling them such stories. You search for me across rooms. You love faces.
  • You’re not that into things, though. I put rattles and plastic rings into your hands and you'll wave ‘em around in the air but you really don’t care.
  • You have my unfortunate skin. You rub your face, it develops mean, red streaks across it. Your diapers leave raw looking imprints. You have hives up your arm.
  • You discovered your thumb this week. I’m torn. I sucked my thumb and it was my bestest friend for many years. Plus, it’s just so darn cute when you do it. And if you have my overbite, you’re going to need braces anyway. But a pacifier is so much easier to wean. I dunno.
  • I was singing very badly and very loudly the other day and you started yelling right along with me. Either you were begging me to shut up, or we just had our first duet. I believe it was the latter.
  • Some of my favourite sensations are when you play with the hair at the back of my neck. And during our naps, when your toes kneed into my thigh, and your hand traces patterns on my bare stomach.
  • You have an angry streak. Oooh, can you get red, screaming mad! We introduced you to your cousin, Carter, last weekend. He let out these delicate little baby cries. You opened your mouth and… well, we had to leave. Ha!
  • You still love, love, love naked time. You’ve pooped and peed on everything but I don’t really care because it gives me something to post about on Facebook. When I give you naked tummy time, you lift yourself onto your elbows, head up, looking around. Your legs kick behind you like you’re a minute away from figuring out how to crawl. I wonder...?
  • You’re still a champion puker. People say, “oh yeah, my kid was a puker.” Then they watch you for a few minutes and get this sort of alarmed look on their faces and say, “wow. He really does puke a lot, doesn’t he?” It scares me sometimes, because I’m on medication that could be causing it. But you’re also developing satisfyingly plump rolls all over your body, so I’m trying not to worry.
  • People comment most on your big, blue eyes. I do love them so.
Okay, enough baby worship for now. Daddy’s got you (you're watching the Daily Show with him), so I have a precious few minutes to get some homework done. Ha! You just puked on him! And he has to change you again, after five minutes in that sleeper. I find that very amusing. Welcome to my life, husband dear.
Love,
Mums.

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Sunday, October 04, 2009

Meds

There is something so frustrating about having been in bed so long and slept so little, especially on the weekend. Mac-attack seems to have a bad case of reflux or something. He writhes in his sleep, clearly in pain, then he wakes up and projectile pukes. It happens less when he has the pacifier in his mouth, so I spend most of the night in a half-sleep, fumbling for the 'sucky', popping it back in his mouth. Wash, rinse, repeat. They say baby puke is less of a medical problem and more of a laundry problem, but I don't know....

PSYCH NURSE: How are you doing this week?
ME: I'm fine. Better than fine, actually. Pretty good.
PSYCH NURSE: That's good. Any thoughts of self-harm or harm to others?
ME: Not at all. But I do have one question.
PSYCH NURSE: What's that?
ME: Well, it's about my baby and his vomiting....
PSYCH NURSE: Oh right. I did ask Dr. Psych about that and he doesn't think it's the medication.
ME: Okay. But it's just that he's still vomiting. A lot. And it started when I started the medication. And it increased in correspondence with the increase in the medication.
PSYCH NURSE: Uh huh?
ME: And it makes me very nauseous and it passes through breast milk...
PSYCH NURSE: Yeah?
ME: Ergo, it just seems logical that it might be my medication?
PSYCH NURSE: Nope. Dr. Psych says it's not.
ME: Alrighty then.

* * *
WORKING: (To Kiwi-the-cat) Hey, skinny! Isn't he getting skinny, now?
TREV: Yeah. Kiwi, why do you always have dried food on your nose? Better than dried shit, I guess. Isn't it weird how concerned he gets when Mac cries, now?
WORKING: Yeah. Did you see him last night? He leapt right off the bed to go see what you were doing to him.
TREV: And just when I was changing Mac on the change table, Kiwi was doing that standing-on-two-legs and reaching thing, trying to see what's going on. He's very concerned.
WORKING: Maybe Mac's cry has changed?
TREV: Or Kiwi's realized he's a person and not just some sort of bug.

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Wednesday, September 23, 2009

GIST: Feelin' Better

Mac slept for 11 hours straight last night. I don't even know what to say, except thankyouthankyouthankyou!

So I'm feeling pretty damn terrific these days. I'm behind in my studies. Trying to cram biochemistry into my brain kind of hurts. But unlike previous weeks / months, I actually feel hopeful about everything. I'll find a way to make it through.

I'm also back at Crossfit, which hurts in a totally different way, a good way. My abs don't seem to have suffered any long term ill effects from the c-section, however my arms are about as strong as licorice strings. I've had to realize that I was pregnant for the majority of my Crossfit experience to date, so it's like I'm starting over, with my real body this time. It just needs time to build itself up.

Time to say grace:

1. Gazing at all my books on our new bookshelves.
2. Charlie running around the yard on her robo-knees. First time in months she hasn't limped!
3. Mac's little voice cooing and gurgling at me from across the room.
4. Morning smoothies and fresh coffee.
5. Getting to hand Mac over and go to CrossFit, thanks to Trevor.

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Tuesday, September 15, 2009

Dear Mac: Two Months Old

Two months ago tonight I was nearing the end of the marathon that was my labour and your birth. I can't believe it's been been only two months. I feel like I've aged 10 years, at least in experience alone.

And yet, on the other hand, holy cow, it's already been two months! You're definitely no longer a newborn. You're a baby, with round cheeks punctuated by dimples and huge blue eyes, and the cutest little pointy chin. You're still long and lean, but your ankles, thighs and arms are starting to show promise of roly-poly folds. I can't wait.

In other news:
  • You fell out of love with Lamp when we changed the bulb. You'd rather stare at Chimney, now.
  • You're outgrowing all of your 3-month clothes.
  • We finally started you on cloth diapers, resulting in a lot more laundry, but you seem happier. No more lobster bum.
  • You talk. Oh, do you ever. Goo's and gurgles and yells, especially when you think you're alone. We get such a kick out of it.
  • You still prefer to fall asleep swaddled up tight with your face buried into something - an armpit, a rolled up blanket, my boob - and no matter what we do, you insist on pulling any available covering over your head when you sleep.
  • While you hate getting your diaper changed, you love to be naked. I don't understand how you know the difference.
  • You have a lot of different cries, now. One of my favourites is the 'fake cry' when I pull you off the boob to burp. You doth protest! Loudly! With legs all stiff and back arched! I SHALL NOT BE BURPED!!
  • But my most favourite cry, and I hate to say this, is your 'scared cry'. It is the most dramatic, mouth turned down, lower lip quivering, puppy dog eyed, most pathetic cartoon sad face ever and it melts my heart (as I laugh at you).
  • Y0u are definitely an intense little boy. The way you stare and frown, brow creased with concentration. Your dad says you get it from me. Thank god there are times when you're all smiles, or I'd really worry.
  • But son, why do your best smiles take place in the dark at 3AM?
  • You're still so strong. You hold your head up by yourself, as you have always, only now you swivel it around to see what you want to see. You like watching water run from the bathroom tap.
  • You love being outside. If you're fussy, we just have to take you out out to the backyard.
  • You started potty training. Sort of. I've managed to catch two poops and a pee already this week. And by which, I mean I recognized the signs and rushed to hold you over the toilet. Heck, saves on laundry!
As I write this, I can hear you cooing in your sleep. I think it's time to join you. See you later for our usual 3AM nurse 'n cuddle.

Love,
Mummy

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Tuesday, September 01, 2009

Updates

Man, what a weird day. Trev worked the night shift and Mac's middle-of-the-night wake up corresponded with his arrival home, so the entire family got to hang out (to the sound of a screaming infant) at three in the morning. He didn't sleep well last night and he didn't nap much today. He was cranky, to put it mildly. He's also nursed me dry.

Being the supermom that I am, I assumed it was a growth spurt, this so-called "cluster feeding". It took me all day to figure out that his poor bottom is the colour of a severe sunburn. So he got naked nap time and accordingly, he slept two hours straight. Screw it; I don't care if he pees and poops through every receiving blanket in this house. Baby Naked Time will be measured in hours, not minutes, from now on.

In other news, Kiwi-the-cat continues to run into walls. The mysterious laceration on his flank is all stitched up (did I tell you about that? I'm so tired, I can't remember what goes here and what goes on Facebook) and accordingly, he's confined to The Cone. There is nothing quite as pathetic as a cat wearing a cone. He falls asleep standing up because he can't figure out how to lie down with it. But every time I take it off (for the cat equivalent of naked time?), he goes after the stitches. And not just licking like the dog does, it's full-on biting and tearing. The stitches, they offend him!

By the way, if you're considering pet ownership, come to me. I'll show you our vet bills this year.

And in yet other news, I organized my study schedule for the fall and all I can say is... if it goes like today went, I might be screwed. There is so much material to cover, so much to memorize, especially for Anatomy / Physiology, and my brain is not exactly functioning at maximum power. This might have been a really, really bad idea.

So if posting gets sporadic, you'll know why.

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Friday, August 21, 2009

Marital Conversations

Stupid conversations you'd never thought you'd have as a couple:

TREV: (to Mac who is laying on the change table) Oh, you're laying on wet cloths. I'll change those.
WORKING: Why are you changing them?
TREV: ... Cuz they're wet...
WORKING: Course they are. He peed on them.
TREV: I know. That's why I'm changing them.
WORKING: But why are you changing them when he's still having naked time?
TREV: Are you serious? Because THEY'RE WET.
WORKING: But he's still having naked time.
TREV: ...
WORKING: So he could still pee some more.
TREV: ...
WORKING: So you might as well leave those cloths so he can pee onto them instead of dirtying all new cloths.
TREV: But... they're peed on and he's laying on them. That's gross.
WORKING: What's the difference? He'd just be laying in a wet diaper anyway.
TREV: (under breath) You're going to be laying in a wet diaper.
WORKING: What?
TREV: Nothing.

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Thursday, August 20, 2009

Sorry, More About Poop

Don't bother reading if you have any aversion to discussion of baby poop in detail. I mean it; this post is the shits. Har har.

So Mac (a.k.a. Big Mac, Mac Attack, Macaroni)'s poops were green, runny, frothy, and stinky for weeks. Very un-baby like. I asked my doctor, my lactation consultant and various lactating friends. From the experts I basically got shrugs and the response that with breastfed babies, it's variety in, variety out. But Mac seemed kind of cranky and he wasn't sleeping that well and the poops were really gross, so it seemed to me there was more to it.

My friends, meanwhile, had all read about foremilk / hindmilk and suggested this might be the problem. The idea is that if you have too much letdown, your baby fills up on 'foremilk', which is kind of like skim milk. Great for hydration, but baby misses the thick, fatty whole milk at the end of the feed. So I tried feeding on one boob per feeding so that he would empty it. No luck, still green. I tried block feeding (feeding on one boob exclusively for multiple feedings). Still green.

So I started pumping. I don't bottle feed exclusively; I alternate between the two. But he's been getting three full bottles a day. One in the morning, one around lunch, one at night with breastfeeding sessions in between. And yeah, expressing is time consuming but frankly so is breastfeeding. He spends upwards of 40 minutes on the boob. What time I blow hooked up to the Medela, I get back with the bottle when he sucks it down in under ten minutes. And not only are his poops back to a nice, yellow, non-smelly baby normal, he's happier, calmer and I swear his naps are steadily increasing in length. Plus, it's giving my boobs a break and I've noticed a reduction in vasospasms. That in and of itself is worth it.

Of course, the sleep thing also correlates with our attempts to follow the 90-Minute Baby Sleep Program. Wait, wait, don't roll your eyes, hear me out. I AM NOT SLEEP TRAINING. Some friends had good luck with it, so I decided to give it a go. The premise is that babies are on a 90-minute BRAC cycle. So you start the clock as soon as they wake up and 90 minutes later, they should be ready for their next nap and you need to start the process of putting them down.

Normally I'm also skeptical of this stuff, but I'd already noticed Mac had a cycle. He slept better if he had a good play following a feed and now that I've started watching it, it's pretty damn close to a 90 minute cycle. If we can get him down around that mark, he goes to sleep with very little fight. His naps will vary - shorter in the daytime - but he's up to three hour chunks at night, which is a vast improvement. And he goes back to sleep a lot sooner. Plus, he's waking up happier. And did I mention his poops?

I dunno. Maybe this all sounds obsessive and you experienced parents are still rolling your eyes. But having a plan gives me the illusion of control. Research gives me comfort. Like I told my Reflexologist yesterday, maybe this is all just a placebo and Mac would be going in this direction anyway. But said placebo gives me confidence, makes me feel happier and relaxed. These positive effects must translate to my relationship with Mac. And that's an improvement.

***
WORKING: Now that he's staring at the TV, do you feel a responsibility to show him quality programming?
TREV: Yeah. Put on The Daily Show.

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Monday, August 17, 2009

GiST

Mac didn't sleep much last night. Of course I'm wondering what part of the equation I got wrong this time, but I'm going to try not to obsess. Thinking about shyte begets more shyte, and I'm sick of being in the shyte.

So in non-sleep related news, here is today's Grace in Small Things:

1. Trev has a gig for September / October! And it's interesting! Yay universe!
2. The dog is healing up nicely.
3. Kiwi likes to hang out beside me in the mornings when I'm feeding Mac.
4. I'm digging the first few pages of Anatomy / Physiology.
5. It's sunny today.

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Sunday, August 16, 2009

Dear Mac: One Month Old

Last night you slept for six hours straight. In another first (and possibly last), you also attended a stagette, Auntie Sonja's all-girls (except for you) 'hen party'. I'm sure you'll be disappointed to know you slept through every feminine shriek, and there were a lot of them, thanks to some risque (though beautiful) lingerie, dildos, lubes, not to mention the spectacularly realistic penis cake your mom made with Auntie Mari and Auntie Bronwyn. Let me just tell you that fondant is amazingly versatile.

When I got you home, fed, and changed, I tried to give you play time but you screamed bloody murder. In moderate frustration, I plunked you down in your cradle wide awake and... you fell asleep in less than 10 seconds. You must have been completely exhausted. You slept for six hours, woke up at 4 AM, fed, played with us for an hour, then went back to sleep and as of 9AM, you're still out. Your dad was heard to say, "did we break him?"

In other news:

- You continue your love affair with Lamp. Your grandpa speculates that you might become a retro lighting enthusiast working for the local lighting supply store. Your dad would prefer you aspired to being at least an on-set gaffer if that's the way it's going to go.

- You've started smiling. Big, open-mouthed, wobbly, crooked, gummy grins. I haven't captured it on the camera yet because it's sporadic and unpredictable, but it's sure nice to get something back.

- You play more. You lay on your mat and stare at the dangling toys. You roll to the side and stare at the stuffed PEI puppy Grandma and Grandpa Aikman bought you. Then you coo in the direction of the dog. Or the wall. Meanwhile, your hands wave around and your little legs kick up a storm and you usually get hiccups. Then you puke, take a loud, reverberating dump, and start to fuss, signaling you're ready for your next nap.

- You follow us with your eyes. Especially me. I wonder if you're imprinting me on your psyche. In which case, I wish I'd had my hair done sooner.

You're awake now, so I'm going to go get you. You can watch Goodfellas with Grandpa and Daddy. Thank you for all the sleep lately, son.

Love,
Mummy

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Saturday, August 15, 2009

Marital Conversations

WORKING: He's so much more lovable when I've had some sleep.
TREV: So are you.

* * *

MAC: (stirring from sleep)
TREV: He looks like he doesn't like where he is. Like Martin Sheen in Apocalypse Now. "Saigon. I'm still in fucking Saigon."

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Wednesday, August 12, 2009

Recovery

(large, wet farting sound)
TREV: Oh. Excuse me.
WORKING: Ha! I thought it was the baby!
TREV: Cool. I'm just going to blame it on him from now on.
WORKING: That's good. Because I never believed it was the dog before.

* * *

So my Reflexologist has a way of tuning me into a better reality. My mood has been steadily improving since seeing him weekly. The hormones seem to be stabilizing, and while I'm tired, I'm definitely coping better.

I had a weird night of burning, overful breasts and a puking, shitting dog. But the baby actually slept quite well. So this morning I woke up with Reflexologist's advice in my head; maybe it's time to enjoy this experience with little Mac before I miss it. Trevor and I are aware this could be our only child, so we better slow down and smell the roses. Or baby poop, as the case may be. And he's a cute little kid, changing every day.

We also cut a deal to help us cope better: Trevor gets a good night's sleep in the guest room while I take the entire shift with the baby (and apparently, the dog). Then, refreshed and rested, he takes over in the morning and I catch a few hours of blissful sleep alone, bed to myself, snoring to the hum of the air conditioner, before the next feeding. And I get another nap opportunity later in the day.

It works because 1. there's no need for both of us to be up at the same time at night, and I'm still breastfeeding exclusively and 2. while I can nap at the drop of a hat, and it's always a solid, restorative nap, Trev can't. He can only sleep at night. There's just no point to us both being exhausted during the day.

Besides, those couple of hours alone are more precious than gold to me right now, and the baby seems happier. Probably because I'm happier. This will only last until Trev goes back to work, but it will buy us some recuperation in the meantime. Dare I say that I'm almost... happy... right now?

(knock on wood)

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Monday, August 10, 2009

Overheard: Daddy Talk

WORKING: (reading) Don't make a move, at least when you're around your baby, without talking about it. Narrate the dressing process.*
TREVOR: Okay. Mac, I am now going to clean poop off of your ball sack.
WORKING: Blow-by-blow descriptions help get you talking and baby listening - thereby starting him or her on the path to understanding.
TREVOR: Mac, I've been on the path to understanding for 35 years, and I still don't know shit.

* What To Expect: The First Year By Heidi Murkoff et al. Pg. 220.

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Friday, August 07, 2009

One-handed Facebook Status Update

Working: "yes, son, you are having a bath. That's what happens when you crap up your own back and pee on your own face for the third time today. So if you stop screaming, please, we can both accept what's become of our lives and move on. Here, have a boob."

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Thursday, August 06, 2009

GiST

Holy cow, you people have been though some serious parental trauma (see comments). I guess I knew parenthood would be tough. You always hear it's tough. I was ready for tough. But I didn't know it could be worse than tough, that it could be traumatic. That it can do psychological and physical damage.

I grew up in a large family, the oldest of five kids. I remember my parents being tired and fed up, but I have a whole new respect for what they must have gone through. Mom used to take off for walks that'd last hours and hours and now I think I know why. As a person with a history of depression, I probably should have been more aware, more prepared. But it was so easy to be focused on the labour. I really didn't want to think about this part.

That said, I still have so much to be grateful for:
1. The way Mac looks at me after a feeding, like he's thinking really hard. Bright blue eyes wide open and focused, slightly confused, but intrigued all the same, maybe?
2. The way he loves Lamp. Lamp is his best friend. Lamp is actually just a standing lamp beside the change table, but I get to pee because of Lamp, so I also love Lamp.
3. His soft, milky breath on my face when he's sleeping beside me.
4. Nipple shields. I don't care about the controversy; my kid is still breastfeeding when I was getting so close to quitting the whole thing.
5. Despite my dips into depression and major anxiety, I've also had moments of calm this week, possibly thanks to a return to Reflexology treatments and walks out in the fresh air.
6. The Baby Mac Weight Loss Program. No substitute for Crossfit, but not bad in the interim.
7. The thought that I'm actually going to return to Crossfit one day, hopefully in the not-too-distant future. Working out is primarily how I've managed my depression drug-free. I'd love to keep it that way.
8. I've also returned to baths the way they're meant to be - hot. Can't cook the baby anymore! And it makes my boobies feel so much better. TMI? Tough.
9. Going to spend time with the family tonight for Dad's birthday, and introducing Mac to Great Grandma Evelyn for the first time.
10. Trevor.

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Wednesday, August 05, 2009

Marital Conversations

WORKING: Is he three weeks old tonight?
TREV: He is. (to Mac) You are. Tonight you will be three weeks old. Three weeks old! Half way to your... six weeks... license.

* * *

WORKING: Does Laura Ling ever look like her sister.
TREV: Uh... maybe because they're twins?
WORKING: Oh.
TREV: (laughing) You have to blog that.
WORKING: I refuse to blog anything that makes me look stupid.

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Tuesday, August 04, 2009

Boob Update

After consulting the top two experts in the field, at least of those I can access, these are things I've heard in the last 24 hours:

- I have thrush.
- I don't have thrush.
- I should hold the baby's head and bring it onto the breast.
- I should never hold the baby's head and bring it onto the breast.
- I should use lanolin.
- I shouldn't use lanolin.
- I should try the football hold.
- The football hold doesn't work.
- I should let my nipples air dry.
- I shouldn't let my nipples air dry.
- Nipple shields are damaging and useless.
- Nipple shields could solve all my problems.

And so on.

Here's what I'm thinking: after almost three weeks of breastfeeding hell, a full course of every thrush treatment known to humankind, some pretty hefty research and many, many consulatations, here's the most likely diagnosis:

I no longer have thrush. Rather, I now suffer from latch-related vasospasm. The lactation consultant (yeah, Tyler, it's that Linda) who was over again last night finally took a long look in Mac's mouth and noticed a very high palate and a shorter tongue. Come to think of it, I've never seen my little guy stick his tongue beyond his gums. Accordingly, we are trying to retrain his latch using a nipple shield, and I'm also going to have him checked for tongue-tie.

I am simply running out of any other explanations, and so is everyone else.

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