I whispered to you
as you lay sleeping in my arms
that you were the most beautiful thing I've ever seen.
I didn't want you to go your whole life
without hearing that
from me.
Wednesday, October 21, 2009
Thursday, October 15, 2009
One Month Old!
Dear Ali,
Today you are one month old. I cannot believe it.
This month has absolutely flown by in a blur of laughter, tears, worry, and the most amazing, all-consuming love. My days come and go, and I can't really even tell you how I spend them other than taking care of you . . . watching you sleep, yawn, sigh, coo, smile, squeal, cry, stretch, squirm, snuggle, stare . . . you are an amazing little creature, already growing so much, already learning, already changing.
We had your one-month check-up today and you are healthy all around. You are finally settling into a steady weight-gain (8 lbs, 12 ounces today--yay!!), you are growing longer (today you measured 22 inches!), your head is getting bigger (15 cm today!), making room for your ever-growing, ever-absorbing brain.
You are a beautiful baby. Everyone says so. Our friends and family. The nurses at the doctor's office. Strangers. You have big, blue, expressive eyes (we're not sure if they will stay blue or not, but they are gorgeous!) and rich, dark hair that swirls into a tiny little curl on your forehead. You have the most perfect little mouth, and you spend a great deal of your time making different expressions . . . you have discovered your tongue and like to stick it out at us; you frown; you smile; you look concerned; you go cross-eyed; you pucker up your lips like you are saying, "ooooh, look at that!" When we turn the lights down, you open your eyes as wide as possible to try and take in as much as you can.
You are starting to spend more and more time awake, calmly looking around you, taking in the world. You are such a good baby. You don't cry unless there's something wrong. I have learned what your hungry cry sounds like (half-hearted), your impatient cry (a little more energetic), your angry cry (girl, you have got some lungs on you and aren't afraid to remind us!), and today it broke my heart to hear your pain cry for the first time. You had somehow managed to grab hold of a bunch of your hair and you were pulling it; you cried out in pain and I immediately knew something was very wrong . . . I had never heard that particular cry before. I tried gently coaxing your fingers open, but you had balled your little fist up in pain, not realizing that you were compounding the very thing that was hurting you in the first place. After I finally loosened your grip, you snuggled into me and whimpered. I hope you knew in that moment how much I loved you, how much I wanted to take your pain away, how much I wanted to take care of you.
You are starting to make adorable little baby noises, cute little coos that I love to mimic back to you. I know that soon you will start to smile in response to the faces and noises that your dad and I make to you. I cannot wait.
You are a phenomenal sleeper. So much so that we have to wake you up to eat. You are usually a pretty good sport about this very unfair arrangement, and you make the most adorable stretches as you slowly wake up. You are a phenomenal stretcher.
You were given lots of warm-weather newborn clothes, so we've had fun dressing you up, even on days when we just stay inside, just to make sure that you have a chance to wear everything. My favorite so far is a colorful striped sundress. You are wearing it today in honor of your birthday and you look positively adorable.
We have started to let you spend some time on your tummy on your play mat. Yesterday was the first time, and you loved it. You kicked your legs out again and again. It almost looked like you were thinking about crawling!! You are quite the kicker . . . we call you "frog legs" when we're changing your diaper because you kick your legs in and out so energetically. Does this mean that you are going to be an early mover? While I am so excited to see all your progress, I have to admit I love the fact that you stay right where I put you right now. It gives me less to worry about. Once you are mobile, you will start going where you want, when you want. You will start to assert your independence. And I will know that my tiny little baby will have grown up, and part of me will cry for the loss of the little snuggly lovebug you are right now.
So, happy one-month birthday to my snuggly cooer, my happy little sleeper, my observant, beautiful baby girl.
Our lives are one-month richer because you're here.
Today you are one month old. I cannot believe it.
This month has absolutely flown by in a blur of laughter, tears, worry, and the most amazing, all-consuming love. My days come and go, and I can't really even tell you how I spend them other than taking care of you . . . watching you sleep, yawn, sigh, coo, smile, squeal, cry, stretch, squirm, snuggle, stare . . . you are an amazing little creature, already growing so much, already learning, already changing.
We had your one-month check-up today and you are healthy all around. You are finally settling into a steady weight-gain (8 lbs, 12 ounces today--yay!!), you are growing longer (today you measured 22 inches!), your head is getting bigger (15 cm today!), making room for your ever-growing, ever-absorbing brain.
You are a beautiful baby. Everyone says so. Our friends and family. The nurses at the doctor's office. Strangers. You have big, blue, expressive eyes (we're not sure if they will stay blue or not, but they are gorgeous!) and rich, dark hair that swirls into a tiny little curl on your forehead. You have the most perfect little mouth, and you spend a great deal of your time making different expressions . . . you have discovered your tongue and like to stick it out at us; you frown; you smile; you look concerned; you go cross-eyed; you pucker up your lips like you are saying, "ooooh, look at that!" When we turn the lights down, you open your eyes as wide as possible to try and take in as much as you can.
You are starting to spend more and more time awake, calmly looking around you, taking in the world. You are such a good baby. You don't cry unless there's something wrong. I have learned what your hungry cry sounds like (half-hearted), your impatient cry (a little more energetic), your angry cry (girl, you have got some lungs on you and aren't afraid to remind us!), and today it broke my heart to hear your pain cry for the first time. You had somehow managed to grab hold of a bunch of your hair and you were pulling it; you cried out in pain and I immediately knew something was very wrong . . . I had never heard that particular cry before. I tried gently coaxing your fingers open, but you had balled your little fist up in pain, not realizing that you were compounding the very thing that was hurting you in the first place. After I finally loosened your grip, you snuggled into me and whimpered. I hope you knew in that moment how much I loved you, how much I wanted to take your pain away, how much I wanted to take care of you.
You are starting to make adorable little baby noises, cute little coos that I love to mimic back to you. I know that soon you will start to smile in response to the faces and noises that your dad and I make to you. I cannot wait.
You are a phenomenal sleeper. So much so that we have to wake you up to eat. You are usually a pretty good sport about this very unfair arrangement, and you make the most adorable stretches as you slowly wake up. You are a phenomenal stretcher.
You were given lots of warm-weather newborn clothes, so we've had fun dressing you up, even on days when we just stay inside, just to make sure that you have a chance to wear everything. My favorite so far is a colorful striped sundress. You are wearing it today in honor of your birthday and you look positively adorable.
We have started to let you spend some time on your tummy on your play mat. Yesterday was the first time, and you loved it. You kicked your legs out again and again. It almost looked like you were thinking about crawling!! You are quite the kicker . . . we call you "frog legs" when we're changing your diaper because you kick your legs in and out so energetically. Does this mean that you are going to be an early mover? While I am so excited to see all your progress, I have to admit I love the fact that you stay right where I put you right now. It gives me less to worry about. Once you are mobile, you will start going where you want, when you want. You will start to assert your independence. And I will know that my tiny little baby will have grown up, and part of me will cry for the loss of the little snuggly lovebug you are right now.
So, happy one-month birthday to my snuggly cooer, my happy little sleeper, my observant, beautiful baby girl.
Our lives are one-month richer because you're here.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
That's What I Get
You know what happens when you take pictures of naked sleeping babies?
That's right. You get the finger. Atta girl.
That's right. You get the finger. Atta girl.
Wednesday, October 7, 2009
New Thoughts on BFing
I've had a loooong post saved in my drafts folder for more than a week now, walking through our less-than-smooth start with breast feeding. I keep going in and adding a bit more to the story, never quite satisfied with how it's turning out.
I'm scrapping that post. The long, sordid details are not worth it.
So, here's my new post on breast feeding.
It's hard. There really should be a public awareness campaign about how difficult breast feeding can be. And I'm not even talking about the physical difficulties, of which I've actually had relatively few (only the occasional sore/stingy nipple). I'm talking about the mental difficulties.
The anxiety over whether or not your child is getting enough to eat (you can't really tell how much she is getting, can you? You can only rely on her to eat as much as she needs).
Over your supply (you can't really tell how much you're making, either. Is it enough to feed my child? Is she going to go hungry? Will my supply be affected if I don't pump after every feeding? Should I be drinking special tea, eating special foods, etc. What happens if I start having too much milk . . . and why on earth would that be a problem??).
Over the feeding schedule (why, oh why doesn't my baby want to eat every 2-3 hours like all the books say she will? Now I have to wake her to eat, and she just falls asleep on the boob after like three minutes anyway, and that brings us back to worry #1.).
I have never before found something so easy to obsess over.
Crazy, huh? I'm obsessing because my baby is a great sleeper. A great sleeper and a bad, bad eater.
Part of the problem (my mental problem, that is, the thing that is making it possible for me to obsess about this) is that she did not regain her birth weight by her 2-week appointment. About that time, I noted a noticeable drop in her nursing time. I freaked. I called lactation consultants. The phrase "failure to thrive" haunted my every waking and dreaming moment. We started supplementing with breast milk from the bottle at the start of every feeding (to attempt to wake her more gently than the bright lights, naked, cold rag, loud noise routine we had been following), then nursing on both sides, then pumping. The feeding routine took upwards of an hour and a half, sometimes longer. It worked though. She regained her birth weight by 2 weeks, 3 days. But I was exhausted. I came to dread feeding time. I could feel my anxiety start to build about an hour out from when the wake up - bottle feed - attempt to nurse - pump cycle would begin.
I met with a lactation consultant. Ali was examined. My boobs were examined. A nursing session was examined. Ali was proclaimed to be a "gourmet diner." As in, she took her damn sweet time to eat. We created a breast feeding plan that got rid of the bottle supplement and focused on responding more to her hunger cues rather than worrying so much about a schedule. We were told to just experiment over the weekend.
It was very hard for me to let go of the plan that had worked so well in putting on the weight. But I gave it a shot. And I'm still trying to give it a shot. I'm trying not to worry when she has a very sleepy day (I wish I had never read that sentence in the book about how babies who don't get enough will often be very lethargic and sleepy). I'm trying not to get frustrated when she falls asleep after only five minutes. I'm trying to trust that she is a healthy baby who just has a more relaxed eating schedule than most other babies.
I'm still pumping after every feeding to make sure that her not eating enough doesn't tell my body to start making less food. I honestly can't imagine a future where I'm not pumping after every session. Hopefully the lactation consultant will have a new plan for us to make that happen.
So yeah. Breast feeding has been hard for us. Not physically. But mentally. Emotionally. It has not come easy. But we are forging ahead, Ali and me. If nothing else, my own stubbornness has served me well in not giving up.
And for those three to five minutes when she is awake and contentedly nursing (ok, I really should say awake and sucking so noisily that I am not sure I'll ever be able to nurse in public because of the stares we would get), and she looks up into my eyes and just stares . . . it's those three to five minutes that keep me coming back the next time.
I'm scrapping that post. The long, sordid details are not worth it.
So, here's my new post on breast feeding.
It's hard. There really should be a public awareness campaign about how difficult breast feeding can be. And I'm not even talking about the physical difficulties, of which I've actually had relatively few (only the occasional sore/stingy nipple). I'm talking about the mental difficulties.
The anxiety over whether or not your child is getting enough to eat (you can't really tell how much she is getting, can you? You can only rely on her to eat as much as she needs).
Over your supply (you can't really tell how much you're making, either. Is it enough to feed my child? Is she going to go hungry? Will my supply be affected if I don't pump after every feeding? Should I be drinking special tea, eating special foods, etc. What happens if I start having too much milk . . . and why on earth would that be a problem??).
Over the feeding schedule (why, oh why doesn't my baby want to eat every 2-3 hours like all the books say she will? Now I have to wake her to eat, and she just falls asleep on the boob after like three minutes anyway, and that brings us back to worry #1.).
I have never before found something so easy to obsess over.
Crazy, huh? I'm obsessing because my baby is a great sleeper. A great sleeper and a bad, bad eater.
Part of the problem (my mental problem, that is, the thing that is making it possible for me to obsess about this) is that she did not regain her birth weight by her 2-week appointment. About that time, I noted a noticeable drop in her nursing time. I freaked. I called lactation consultants. The phrase "failure to thrive" haunted my every waking and dreaming moment. We started supplementing with breast milk from the bottle at the start of every feeding (to attempt to wake her more gently than the bright lights, naked, cold rag, loud noise routine we had been following), then nursing on both sides, then pumping. The feeding routine took upwards of an hour and a half, sometimes longer. It worked though. She regained her birth weight by 2 weeks, 3 days. But I was exhausted. I came to dread feeding time. I could feel my anxiety start to build about an hour out from when the wake up - bottle feed - attempt to nurse - pump cycle would begin.
I met with a lactation consultant. Ali was examined. My boobs were examined. A nursing session was examined. Ali was proclaimed to be a "gourmet diner." As in, she took her damn sweet time to eat. We created a breast feeding plan that got rid of the bottle supplement and focused on responding more to her hunger cues rather than worrying so much about a schedule. We were told to just experiment over the weekend.
It was very hard for me to let go of the plan that had worked so well in putting on the weight. But I gave it a shot. And I'm still trying to give it a shot. I'm trying not to worry when she has a very sleepy day (I wish I had never read that sentence in the book about how babies who don't get enough will often be very lethargic and sleepy). I'm trying not to get frustrated when she falls asleep after only five minutes. I'm trying to trust that she is a healthy baby who just has a more relaxed eating schedule than most other babies.
I'm still pumping after every feeding to make sure that her not eating enough doesn't tell my body to start making less food. I honestly can't imagine a future where I'm not pumping after every session. Hopefully the lactation consultant will have a new plan for us to make that happen.
So yeah. Breast feeding has been hard for us. Not physically. But mentally. Emotionally. It has not come easy. But we are forging ahead, Ali and me. If nothing else, my own stubbornness has served me well in not giving up.
And for those three to five minutes when she is awake and contentedly nursing (ok, I really should say awake and sucking so noisily that I am not sure I'll ever be able to nurse in public because of the stares we would get), and she looks up into my eyes and just stares . . . it's those three to five minutes that keep me coming back the next time.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)
