Dear William (37 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 37 months old.  You are really enjoying being three.

We took another family camping trip this month.  We went to Hawn State Park near Ste. Genevieve, MO.  There was a playground right on the campground, and you loved that.  We played nature bingo in the amphitheater that night.  Then you snuggled up next to Mommy and Daddy and went to sleep in the tent.

The next morning we went hiking.  The trails were great-- sandy and beautiful.  I hiked barefoot because a blister on my ankle made shoes uncomfortable.  It was lovely, William.

 

Your daycare randomly closed one day because of a water main break, and your dad took the day off work to take care of you.  The two of you went on another hike.  This time you rode in the pack.

 

We went to the Festival of Nations at Tower Grove Park.  You wouldn't eat any food (as per usual), but you did have some frozen lemonade.  It was really good.  It was a lemon icee and they put a peppermint candy at the bottom that melted into the lemonade and became pure wonderfulness.  I think we got it from the Hawaii booth (which is a state, not exactly a nation), or from some unaffiated booth that was next to Hawaii.  I hope your father can find this booth again next year (I've already forgotten where it was) because those icees were delicious.

 

We went to the Science Center, where you looked at trains and puzzles and played with magnetic tiles.  We don't know anybody in St. Louis, but we saw three people that we knew there that day.

 

 

 

You did some more hiking with your father.  You stole his trekking poles.

 

We went to the zoo and visited the stingray exhibit.  Did you know it is free during the first hour of operation?  That is great.  There were stingrays and little sharks in the enclosure.  Visitors could pet them.  I put my hand in the water and a couple of stingrays swam over and let me pet them.  They felt slimy and amazing.  You and your dad didn't really want to touch them.  Maybe next time.

You continue to be a non-eater of food and I wonder what keeps you alive.  

You never want to go to bed.  The whole process takes us two or more hours every night.  You cry like your heart is breaking and cling to me whenever I say "Nigh nigh" and try to leave the room.  You beg me to stay with you.  You get up repeatedly to ask for a drink of water or to go to the potty or to tell us that you are afraid of lions.  Sometimes you call me into your room in the middle of the night and tell me, "I need a hug."   It is hard to be mad at you because you are so cute, but William, it is exhausting.

You started taking naps in underpants (no diaper) and waking up dry.  We haven't tried that overnight yet-- I'm a bit too scared.  Maybe this month, we'll see.

Get ready for more adventures, William!  

Love,

Your mom

2^5

Well, I am 2^5 old today, or more plainly spoken:  32.  Wait, is that right?  I was born in 1979.  You do the math.

For the last several years, my birthdays have become increasingly chaotic.  It has not always been of my choosing.  Last year, most likely in tears, I recall thinking that if I lived to see 32, all I wanted was for NOTHING happen on my birthday.

Let's see if I can recount some of the craziness of the past several years:

25th birthday, 2004:  On a camping trip in Appalachia with Rob.  We may be smiling in the pictures, but we had just had our 2nd fight ever.

26th birthday, 2005: In Managua waiting to fly home and vowing never to return to Nicaragua again.

27th birthday, 2006: Having returned to Nicaragua, I was in a hospital in Moyogalpa that had no toilet paper.  Someone down the hall was either giving birth or having her leg amputated without anesthesia.  I was extremely ill, but Rob was the one who was being treated.

28th birthday, 2007: Moved into our house in Urbana, having just left Eduardo in Nicaragua.  I was supposed to be all happy to be back in the US, I guess, but instead it kind of felt like I'd been forced to reach into my chest cavity, extract my heart, and throw it to the sharks in Lake Nicaragua.

29th birthday 2008: On a boat in Lake Nicaragua, looking for Eduardo.

30th birthday, 2009:  Had given birth to my one and only child  2 days prior.  Will wouldn't stop crying, ever, not even for a second.  An asshole pediatrician at the hospital told me I was starving Will to death by trying to breastfeed him and that I would have to give him formula because everybody on the planet would die if he lost any more weight.  I have never met anyone more insulting, ignorant, and arrogant than that worthless sack of shit.  He actually referred to the nurses on staff as "the girls" and he told me that giving Will formula wouldhelp my milk come in.  Luckily I was smart enough not to listen to him, but even so, my 30th birthday was the worst day of my entire life.

31st birthday, 2010: Moved to St. Louis with approximately 3 weeks notice.  Started a new job and put my son in daycare for the first time ever (prior to this we'd never been apart for more than a few hours).  We didn't have a place to live yet so we stayed in a hotel for 2 weeks.  Also, my grandmother was dying and passed away just before my first day of my new job.  My family held off the funeral till the weekend (because I could not take any time off of work at that point), so that I could come home and give the eulogy.

Well, I guess my 32nd birthday is about to draw to a close and thankfully there has been no tragic event.  I got to go on a long run this morning, and afterwards, Rob and I biked over to a park with Will to meet some friends.  Will enjoyed the playground, and I had a chance to chat with some of my favorite yoga moms (one who now lives in St. Louis, and another who had come down to visit).  Although I have been feeling ridiculously awful for the past several days (out of control exhaustion), I got a second wind after a 20 minute power nap this afternoon.  Then this evening, we hung out with some neighbors until Will threw a fit and we had to take him home.  He wouldn't eat dinner (as per usual), but I soothed myself by having a piece of leftover birthday cake from his party yesterday.  I got lots of phone calls, emails, cards, texts, tweets, and Facebook messages from everybody wishing me a happy birthday.  It was really nice!

Tomorrow I resume my career-- going back to work full time after about 6 weeks off this summer.  A little stressed out by that.  A lot stressed out by that.  I still have to write the howler paper for Mt's edited volume, and I don't know when I am going to find the time to do that.  Hoping all goes well.

Dear William (14 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 14 months old. You have learned a lot of new things this month. For example, you can now pick your nose. You find that hilarious. But your biggest new thing is waving. For many months you have been doing a 2-handed wave, which was really more like clapping than waving per se, but this past month you have started waving for real. You wave all the time, like crazy. You wave at me first thing in the morning when you wake up. You wave as I lay you down in your bed at night. You giggle and wave at the baby in the mirror.

Your dad claims that you have begun stacking blocks, but I have yet to see it. Just tonight, we were playing blocks, and you enjoyed banging them together and taking them in and out of a box, but there was no stacking. I think maybe your dad may have "helped" a little in this picture he took:

You have become an expert hugger. You always underfoot, standing and hugging me about the knees. When I pick you up, you wrap your arms around me in a big ole hug. It is so sweet. You also make your preference known as to who you want to hold you. For example, if your dad is holding you and you decide you want me, you hurl your body in my direction, while reaching your arms out.

For most of the month, the entire family unit has been sick, and that hasn't been fun. First, you got sick (presumably from daycare), and then I got sick (presumably from you), and then your dad got sick. It just keeps lingering. You haven't been sleeping very well, probably because your nose has been stuffed up. You haven't slept through the night in a very long time. Usually you wake up at some point in the night and I cannot get you to stop crying and go back to sleep unless I bring you to bed with me. You like to stretch out in the big bed with mom and dad. I don't like being woken up in the night, but I do like curling up with you in bed. One night the only way you would sleep was with your head on my throat. It was kind of uncomfortable for me, but to tell you the truth, I didn't mind. Now that I am gone at work all day, I don't get to see you as much, and I miss you a lot. Maybe you miss me too, and that is why you are waking up in the night and insisting on sleeping with your head on my throat.

We Broke Vegan this month, William. It just got too hard to keep you vegan at daycare. So finally I just gave up and said, fine, give him Nilla Wafers (they contain milk). And then I said, alright, he can have a cheese sandwich. And yogurt, of the non-vegan variety. It has been very hard for me to deal with. I've tried to give you the best, most healthiest foods your whole life. But the past several months, it has been so hard to get you to eat anything, that I've just run out of options. The irony is, you don't really go for the non-vegan things either. Well, you'll eat Nilla Wafers or crackers that contain milk protein, but you won't touch cheese or anything blatantly non-vegan. I don't blame you. Dairy is disgusting.

Speaking of vanilla wafers, though, I found some organic vegan ones at the store and got them the other day. Last night after dinner, we were all eating some, and you got this crazy idea to "feed" some to your dad and me. It was so cute. We would open our mouths and you would giggle and feed us each a cookie. You're great.

Love always,

Mom

Is this normal?

I've been at my new job for around a month and a half now, and things are going well. Before all of this started, I had been terrified at the prospect of partially weaning Will. At 12 months old, he still nursed at least 5 times a day, and nursing was by far his favorite pastime. If I went too long without nursing him, he would begin to wail, crawl over to me, and pull down my shirt. I almost did not take this job because I didn't think Will would be able to handle going 8+ hours without the boob. He steadfastly refused to take a bottle, so it wasn't like sending him off to daycare with pumped milk would be an option. Besides, my bottle-feeding mom-friends told me that by this age, you're trying to get them off the bottle, not start them on it.

I just sort of closed my eyes, took a deep breath, trusted that it would somehow all work out, then called the department head and formally accepted the position. As soon as I hung up the phone, I wondered what the hell I was thinking.

But it has worked out. Somehow. Not perfectly. My god this has been stressful. You don't even know how stressful. I couldn't even begin to tell you the half of it. I'm pretty sure Will has developed dental enamel hypoplasias from drinking my stressed out milk and from living and breathing all the stress around him. It continues to be ridiculously stressful, but luckily, I am so busy that most of the time I do not even have the time to notice how stressed out I am. So I just keep going.

At any rate, since the beginning of August, I slowly worked at cutting down the amount of times I nursed Will each day. His nursing took a more dramatic hit when I started work on August 23rd, and an even more dramatic hit when he formally started daycare on September 7. Since then he has nursed only twice per day. I nurse him early in the morning as soon as he wakes, and then I nurse him once again in the evening before he goes to bed. On the weekends I sometimes nurse him more.

The thing is, it has been going pretty well for the most part. At least, I thought it was. He is just shy of 14 months now, and he is perfectly fine going without nursing all day long. That part is wonderful. It is a huge change from an entire year of my life, when I nursed him pretty much every 2 hours, all day long, just to keep him happy. In many ways, I feel like this is the best of the all possible worlds. I'm still nursing him, so he's getting all the health and immune benefits of breastmilk, I'm just only doing it twice a day instead of all day long like we had been doing for his entire life.

Here is the problem though. Now that we've been on this twice a day nursing schedule for a month or so, I am starting to feel like I've got no milk at all. It felt frighteningly like the first several months of his life when we were dealing with the hellishness of Low Milk Supply. I mean, I knew that I should naturally expect my milk supply to decrease as I decreased the amount of times I nursed him. But here is what I am afraid of: I am afraid that my milk will totally dry up and he'll end up weaned before either of us is ready.

Within the past week, I've really noticed how astonishingly little milk I have left. My nursing bras are gigantic on me. There are times when I'm nursing him when I don't feel a let-down and it really doesn't seem like there is any milk coming out at all. That's the thing that worries me the most. I really noticed it over the weekend when we were all sick. Will and I were both feverish and congested; he was fussy and I was too tired to do anything else to entertain him, so I just decided I'd nurse him multiple times throughout the day. And nothing came out. At least, it seemed like nothing came out. I was kind of too sick to notice or care about it a whole lot, but by now I am starting to freak out. Is my milk going to dry up completely? I am so not ready to wean him.

I realize, in the greater scheme of things, having nursed this baby for 14 months (and never given him one drop of formula, not one drop!), is nothing to sneeze at, and even the most dedicated lactivist (is that a pejorative term? I don't mean it to be so) would probably congratulate me on a job well done even if I were to stop nursing him today. Hell, I practically got a standing ovation at a La Leche League meeting when I told my story of everything we had been through to keep nursing and fend off formula when Will was just 4 months old. But I am not ready to quit nursing. I don't really have a target weaning age in mind, other than say, kindergarden. I mean, I personally see no reason not to nurse him until he is at least 3. Or at least 2. Whatever. Just something older than 14 months.

So, I just don't know... is it normal to have vanishingly little milk left at this point in the game, or have I reverted to the terror of Low Milk Supply that I somehow managed to get us through after Will was first born? Am I just extra paranoid about milk supply issues because of everything we went through? Is my milk going to completely dry up? Should I take something to prevent that from happening? Recall that I tried everything and nothing worked. Except for Domperidone, after about 8 weeks of 9 pills per day. I rifled through my stash of nursing supplies and found that I have about a week's supply of Domperidone left. Should I take it?

It's just that this is all kind of emotional for me. Realistically, I will probably never have another baby. I don't think there's anybody out there working on finding a cure for Hyperemesis Gravidarum or Babies That Cry 12 Hours Per Day, and I can't imagine ever living through either of those things again. So once we're done, we're done. Nursing has been hard, unimaginably hard, what with the low milk supply and the constant crying, and did I mention the low milk supply? But I am nowhere near ready to end it, and it makes me very sad to think that one day Will will be done nursing and that part of my life will be over forever.

At any rate, I'm in uncharted territory. I would appreciate feedback from anybody who's been there, done that. Is what's been happening a sign that my milk is on its way out? Or is it normal to have a low milk supply at this stage and maintain it for as long as you and the baby see fit?

Thanks for reading.

Time

You may have noticed, I do not have much time to blog lately.

I really like my new job, I just wish that I had about 6 more hours every day. I keep thinking that things will settle down once we get our boxes unpacked and find homes in our new house for all our things. I fear that the unpacking may never happen though, because every day it's all I can do to come home and cook dinner, take care of the baby, do laundry, clean up the kitchen, pack lunches, and get my sh*t together for the next day. Oh, and also I am training for my 10th marathon (which may end up being a casualty of this war). I apologize to everybody to whom I owe emails or phone calls.

I realized the other day though, that I suddenly view the passage of time differently for the first time, at least, since I started grad school. You know, I'm not stressed out by it. In grad school, the clock was always ticking. Writing grants, doing pilot studies and field research, analyzing data and writing your dissertation. All while having to do some other work on the side, like teaching or undergraduate advising. And you only have so much time to do it (not enough time in fact) before they pull your funding and you need to apply for jobs that will have something like 200 applicants a piece and that will require you to work some 60-70 hours a week for a chance at getting tenure instead of getting fired. The whole thing was kind of depressing.

After I somehow managed to finish my dissertation (while also being a full time mother to The Baby Who Cries More Than Any Other Baby In The History Of The World), I could feel the clock ticking even more. If I didn't manage to get some kind of job soon, I was so afraid that I never would. Who would hire somebody who'd been a stay at home mom for like 5 years, when there would always be an overabundance of fresh PhD's out there? No one, that's who.

So I found this job. It's a jobby job. Not tenure track. I get to do anthropology from 9-5 and then come home and do whatever I want (which, I guess, is cooking, laundry, cleaning, and taking care of the baby). And for the first time in my memory, there is no clock ticking. I'm here. I don't have to worry about getting through grad school so I can get a job so that I can get tenure, so that I can become The Next Big Name in Primatology. I was never going to be the Next Big Name anyway. I don't have to worry about publications or grants, or figuring out how to get permits to do research in some far away country. I've got my jobby job and my boys, and despite all the chaos of our unpacked boxes, I am happier than I have been in a long time.

Thanks for reading.

Dear William (13 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 13 months old! Lucky 13!

Your whole life changed in just about every possible way this past month. It has been rough on us all, but for the most part you are taking it in stride. Well, almost in stride. You are standing up now, but not quite walking. You do love standing though. When you wake up in the mornings, first thing you do is stand up in your crib and holler for me. You smile when I come into the room.

William, we moved to Missouri this month. That is a brand new state for you. The whole thing was a bit stressful. We lived in an extended stay hotel for 2 weeks before we could get into our new place. (The extended stay hotel was where you first started standing).

I started a new job this month. For the first 2 weeks, your dad took care of you. Then your new daycare opened and you started going there. So far you like it I guess. I had been worried about how you would ever take a nap there (for me you only nap if you are nursing or if we go for a walk in the stroller), but your "teachers" somehow got you to sleep on a cot. They even took a picture to prove it.

You got sent home from daycare on your second day. They said you were acting fussy (you, fussy? Imagine that!) and they took your temperature and it was 99.5 (which is nothing, but they had to send you home). I don't know why you had a fever. You have never before in your entire life had a fever. I think maybe you were stressed from all the major upheavals in your life during this past month, or maybe you were teething. At any rate, you seemed to feel better the next day.

Speaking of teething though, you've gotten another tooth. You're up to 8 teeth now. It's your bottom lateral incisor. It wouldn't surprise me if you're also working on some molars too. Just please, no more fevers or any other type of illness. Not only does it scare the liver out of me if you are ever sick, but also, I cannot technically take time off work to take care of you for the first 6 months of my employment :(

You're nursing less than ever. Usually just twice a day (well, except for today, when I think you've nursed 5 times so far, but it's a weekend and your 13th month birthday besides). You are eating better, at least some of the time. You eat rice and beans sometimes. And sliced grapes. And plenty of sunflower butter and wheat bread.

You love playing with your Fridge Farm, and you've had a renewed interest in Blue Seahorse (see above picture of you napping in your cot). Other favorite activities of yours include crawling over to me, pulling up on my legs, and biting my knees.

You still cry a lot. In fact, you are crying now, maybe because you want me to stop typing and hold you. Guess I'd better go.

Love you,

Mama

Standing

We're back in St. Louis for week 2 of this thing, after a brief hiatus to Peoria/Lacon for my grandma's funeral. My mother and aunt had asked me to read the piece I wrote about Grandma at the funeral, so I did. People said so many nice things to me about it and about my grandma, and I really appreciate it. But still. If I'd been making a list of Things I Thought I Would Never Do, giving the eulogy at my Grandma's funeral would have been right up there at the top. The good thing about reading a eulogy (especially one you've written yourself) is that because it is at a funeral, no one thinks twice about it if you pass out or burst into tears during the reading. Luckily, I managed to do only one of those things.

Last night after we got back to St. Louis, it was quite a struggle to put Will to bed. He was very tired and fussy, but he would not stop crying. Our previous method (the one that had been working for the last several days) of putting him into his pack and play with Blue Seahorse until he fell asleep on his own was just not cutting it. About the umpteenth time I set him in the pack and play, he grabbed onto the sides of it and stood up. Now, I know your kid has been standing since he/she was 7 months old, but this was the very first time Will has ever stood up on his own. Unfortunately, he wasn't very happy about it. Oh with the screaming. My frustration with his screaming/crying was momentarily overshadowed by the fact that because he was standing, there was hope that he might someday walk.

Last night Will was a wild man

He never did sleep in his pack and play last night. He slept in the big bed between Rob and me, which meant that I didn't get much sleep at all (I can never really sleep when Will is in bed with us). Tonight it went a little bit better. There was a fair amount of crying and standing as I put him down, but he eventually started to play with Seahorse, and after a while of that, he did fall asleep. Keeping my fingers crossed that he stays asleep.

He went over 12 hours without nursing today. For the first time ever. I can't believe it. He nursed this morning when he woke up and not again until tonight right before bed. We've come a long way. It was only a month ago that he was still nursing pretty much all day every day. I guess I am supposed to be happy about this weaning thing, but it makes me uneasy. Like, it won't be long before he is grown up and living on his own and married to some girl I probably won't like and doesn't call me often enough. I just want to hold him and love him forever.

He's been eating a little bit better this past week or so, for the most part. He ate rice and beans for dinner at least 2 nights last week, which thrilled me to no end. He ate some organic blueberry waffles at my mom and dad's house over the weekend. I also gave him his first ever non-vegan food: a sugar cookie. I decided to just go for it. After Grandma's funeral, the ladies of the church served cookies and lemonade, and I knew that Grandma would want Will to have a sugar cookie. So I gave it to him, and he loved it. I had a bite of it too, so I guess I'm not 100% vegan either. Once we get into our new house, I'll make vegan sugar cookies for us, and I will add lemon to them.

Thanks for reading.

First week (almost)

First of all, I want to say thank you for everybody's kind words about my Grandma Florence. It is sad to have lost her, but it is so nice to know how much she meant to people near and far. Thanks again, it means so much.

Well, by now I've got almost a week of the new job under my belt. The job itself is good, the campus is beautiful, and my co-workers are unbelievably fantastic. When I showed up on my first day, everybody hugged me and they apologized that they didn't have the "Welcome Melissa" banner hung up in time. They're great people. It's just that everything else about this whole situation is incredibly stressful. St. Louis is stressful. I have never ever in my whole life lived in a big city (don't count Paris... I never drove there), nor have I ever wanted to. There are so many cars, and so many lanes of traffic, all the time. I miss Urbana.

We can't move into our new house until Labor Day weekend, and for the time being, we're staying in an extended stay hotel that is about a 30-40 minute trip to campus. Did you know that an extended stay hotel room is pretty much the same size as any regular hotel room, they just jam a kitchenette in there? Said kitchenette was supposed to be fully stocked with kitchen items; there are a few bowls and plates, but as far as cooking items, our only assets are a skillet and colander.

Will's sleep has been difficult to say the least, but it is getting better. The first night we were here, I think he cried all night long. The second night, only part of the night. And so on. What is difficult is that we are all in the same room, and Will is a very light sleeper. So after he goes to bed by around 7:30 or 8, Rob and I just kind of sit here in total silence and darkness. The first two nights, we had a lot of trouble getting him to sleep. Rob finally abandoned the attempts to get Will to sleep and just put him in the pack and play sitting up. We gave him Blue Seahorse and his favorite monkey book and he just sat and played quietly (in the dark) for maybe a half an hour. At some point, Rob looked at him and he was still sitting up, but had his eyes closed and was completely motionless. So Rob gently laid him down on his back, and Will stayed asleep. He was clutching his monkey book in his hands though, and he brought the book up over his face. It was kind of hilarious. Eventually, I carefully removed the book from his grasp and put it over to the side. Miraculously, he stayed asleep... well, until about 1 in the morning when he woke up screaming. But that is beside the point. I still consider the falling asleep on his own thing to be a major breakthrough. The past two nights, we've done sort of the same thing. He nurses but does not fall asleep, I put him in the pack and play (sitting up) and he plays with Blue Seahorse and monkey book until he gets tired enough to lay himself down and go to sleep. It's kind of amazing. I wish he would do that for naps too, but not a chance.

Will's daycare doesn't open until the Tuesday after Labor Day, which is stressful. Rob and I are both trying to work and take care of Will, and did I mention that it was stressful? But in a way, it might actually be less stressful than if he were in daycare. It sort of lets me ease into this not-being-with-Will all day long thing. I am terrified to take him to daycare. What if they forget and feed him something not vegan?! And how on earth will he take a nap there? In the "toddler" room, they have the kids sleep on cots. Cots?! Are you kidding me? When we visited the place, we put Will down on one of the cots to show him what it was like, and he promptly heisted himself off of it and crawled away to go find a toy. I know these people are professionals (it is one of these fancy day cares that costs a million dollars per month), but still, I don't think they have any idea what they are going to be dealing with. I asked them if they ever expel a child for crying too much, and they laughed and told me no. But seriously, they are in for a wake up call. I am terrified to send him to daycare, but in the same sense, I feel that we are all just hanging on by a thread, trying to work while juggling child care.

Will outside my office

Playing on the floor of the hotel room. Gross.

Well, his highness is fussing, so I guess I better turn off the computer and try to breathe very quietly for a while so that he doesn't wake up. We could be in for a long night.

Thanks for reading

One year later

Has it really been a year since Will was born?

Almost.

I've had a lot of time by this point to reflect on his birth. I am so thankful for how it all turned out, but going through it was definitely awful. Awful, awful, awful. I looked back on the birth so negatively for such a long time. And I felt so mad, because I had done everything right. I had done everything Ina May's Guide to Childbirth said to do. Why had it ended up being such a thing of terror instead a thing of joy? Why had it left me feeling so defeated instead of elated? I was angry at the hippies in the book for describing contractions as "waves" or "rushes." Those words just didn't do it justice. It was more like a tsunami or being run over by a train but somehow managing to stay alive only to feel the impact over and over again. I think Rob is still sort of scarred from the experience, and he wasn't even the one directly going through it.

I never want to be pregnant again. I never want to go back to that horrible, horrible dark, place of never not feeling like I was going to vomit, of never having any relief from the nausea, not even for a moment. And I never want to have a newborn again. Not one that cries and cries and cries all the time. Nobody understands how much he cried (and still cries), not even Rob. I was the one who was home alone with him, all day, every day. I don't know what was wrong with him. I guess I never will.

But the thing is, I think I could give birth again. I want a do-over. Even though going through the experience was completely awful and terrifying at the time, I can look back on it now and think of it as truly amazing. I still kind of can't believe that I did it. Nothing in life will ever, ever compare. Everything else is just so pale. Instead of remembering the terrible, defeating moments when I was sure they were going to cut me open before I could muster, "I do not consent," I remember the hugely immense power of the contractions. Power like a volcano erupting or like an earthquake ripping the earth in two. I remember how some sort of primal instinct took over, how I intuitively felt the need to stay vertical and how I knew how to hum, moan, breathe through the contractions. I remember how I let go, just completely surrendered to it. Each contraction felt like being thrown from a cliff, hitting the water some thousand miles below and feeling it break every bone in your body. But you just don't fight it, don't struggle against it. Keep your shoulders and jaw relaxed and you'll float up to the top and get a breath of fresh air before the whole thing happens all over again. And again and again. How you manage to live through it is a mystery. At some point during transition, during a deathly calm between contractions, I remember looking at my doula through heavily lidded eyes, and whispering, "I can do this. I can do this." And I remember a look of pride washed over her and she said, "You are doing this." I was. I had to. The only way out is through.

Thanks for reading.

Crawling

The past couple of weeks have been an absolute whirlwind. Picking up the whole family to move to a different state and start a new job in such a short time span has been extraordinarily stressful.

We were back in St. Louis last week to look at houses and for me to fill out some paperwork in the department. They ordered me a rug and will be moving a desk, bookshelves, and a filing cabinet into the office. I think I will be very happy working there.

Will does some exploring outside my office door

In the midst of all of this, Will has cut another tooth (we're up to 7 now). He's also pulling up to his knees, and more and more frequently, he is pulling up to one knee and one foot. The biggest news in his life is that he has finally started crawling. For some time he has been quite mobile, but he has never crawled in the traditional sense. I'm not exactly sure how he's done it, but he has managed to come up with alternative forms of locomotion. One of his favorite ways to get around was to sit on his bottom and scoot across the floor. He also would lay flat on his belly and rotate in ever widening circles or push himself backwards. For about a month he's been so close to crawling, but not quite there. And then finally, yesterday (July 31st), he just did it. I was upstairs in the storage room packing some boxes, and Rob was downstairs playing with him, when Will shot across the floor in a clumsy, loping crawl after Rob's Nalgene water bottle. Rob yelled up to me to come down, but way back in the storage room, I didn't hear him, and I missed the whole thing. Go figure. I've been with this kid 24 hours a day for almost an entire year, but I somehow managed to miss his first crawl. Ironic.

He spontaneously burst into another bout of crawling this afternoon, and Rob managed to film it:

In the video, you can see him going after one of his most prized possessions: a blue bowl. This was the bowl in his bassinet at the hospital; I think it had some diaper cream and baby wash and lotion in it. I brought it home with us and use it every night to rinse him off in the tub. He loves it. Many times he carries it out of the bath with him and up to his bed.

It is a relief to me that he has finally hit this milestone that it seems like everybody else's baby has hit months ago. When he was 9 months old and not crawling or pulling up, the pediatrician told me he was "developmentally delayed," which believe you me, has been resonating in my head ever since. The other day when he was screaming in my arms for a solid hour while I was trying to get him to take a nap (he was exhausted but would not sleep), and I was also sobbing hysterically, a thought occurred to me. I really think that he has been so late with many of his milestones because he spends so much of his time crying. All that crying just doesn't leave time for new tricks such as rolling over, sitting up, or crawling. I remember all the other mothers talking about "tummy time" and how their babies would roll over when they put them on the floor. And I just kept thinking, how could they do that? For at least the first 5 months of his life, Will cried whenever I wasn't nursing him. There simply wasn't time for tummy time or rolling over, because I could never put him down. I feel like nobody believes me, but it is true, with the crying. While other babies have been doing things like pulling up and standing and crawling and walking, Will has been... crying.

I need some sleep.

Dear William (11 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 11 months old. Almost ready for your first birthday!

I really think that red is your favorite color. You go after anything that is red. You love your dad's lucky red hat, and whenever he wears it, you try to take it off of his head and chew on it. One of your favorite toys is a red monkey that plays music. You love strawberries. Well, at least you did for 2 days. After that, you wouldn't touch them.

I still think that you are left-handed. You always reach for things with your left hand. If you happen to pick up a piece of food with your right hand, you always transfer it to your left hand before you put it into your mouth. They say left handed people are more creative. I think supposedly a lot of the US presidents have been left handed.

You figured out how to clap this month. You love to clap when you are sitting on the floor. You get so amused with your own antics that you squeal with delight. I think you like the sound that clapping makes, because you also like to slap things. You slap the floor, your high chair tray, my arms, legs, neck, and face.

You crawl (kind of) backwards by laying flat on your stomach and pushing yourself back with your hands. You also rotate or go around in a circle, but you do not go forward. Just about a week ago (July 7) you pushed yourself up onto all fours for the first time. It kind of startled you. You have kept doing that, but I guess you don't like it because it always makes you cry. A couple of days ago you also started pushing yourself way up off the ground-- so just your toes and hands are touching the floor and your body is hovering some inches above it. It's kind of like you are doing push ups.

You got a lot of teeth this month. In fact, you have been teething without any break since June 2. In addition to 2 bottom incisors you got back in April, you've now got all 4 upper incisors. I really thought that last one would be in by the 4th of July, but it took a couple more days. On the morning of July 7th, it had finally broken through. I hope, for all of our sakes, that we can have a break from teething for a while.

You were very fussy for most of the month. I blamed it on teething, but even though you don't have any teeth working on you at the moment, you are still very fussy. And with the crying. Oh the crying. You can stop with the crying anytime now, you know?

After we got home from San Francisco, you slept great for about 3 weeks straight-- 11 or 12 hours without a peep from you. But the last couple of nights, you've been getting me up again! Last night you got up 4 times. What's up with that?

You were really fussy about eating this month. For the last several weeks, it's been difficult to get you to eat anything at all. Just when I come up with something that you'll eat (such as strawberries), then 2 days later you refuse them. Your sudden pickiness has been very difficult for both of us. There is a lot of screaming, crying, and throwing things when I am trying to feed you. You seem to want to eat only pieces of fruit and bread. Oh how I miss the days when you slurped up pureed kale and broccoli. You need these things, William, so that you can grow up big and strong.

Here is a list of the new things you have (grudgingly) tried this month: whole wheat pita, tahini (both of these actually last month, but I forgot to include them), watermelon, soy yogurt, animal crackers, sunflower seed butter (wow, I made this), pumpkin seed butter (aren't I creative?), organic whole wheat macaroni, mango, sweet potato fry, yellow pepper, teething biscuit, golden beet, beet greens, quinoa, broccoli risotto, wheat crackers.

You were in a parade this month (for the 4th of July), and you even slept through part of it.

You got your own swimming pool.

You met 2 of your cousins.

It's been a busy month! Hang on, William, because it won't be long until you are a whole year old. I'm already practicing, so that I can make you the best possible cake.

Love,

Mom

Garage sale

The Ragfields have decided to have a garage sale. Actually, it was mainly me who decided we were having a garage sale. Rob looked kind of pale and wan when I informed him of this decision, because it would necessarily involve dealing with our clutter instead of continuing to trip over it or shove it into the storage room and pretend it doesn't exist.

I hate clutter. I hate, hate, hate it. The clutter in our house actually keeps me awake at night sometimes, but trying to do something about it has just seemed so overwhelming... where to begin? We got rid of a lot of stuff before we went to Nicaragua for a year, but we stopped short of actually having a garage sale because we were both way too stressed out to put in that kind of effort. We boxed up a lot of things we didn't need, stored them for a year, and then moved them into this house where they have remained untouched (in some cases) or strewn about the floor (in other cases).

Well, I've had it. Clutter be gone. I cannot live like this anymore. Over the past several weeks, I have aggressively gone about de-cluttering our bedroom and Will's bedroom. Each of our rooms had numerous Scary Boxes Full Of Junk We Don't Know What To Do With in it. But I finally got rid of it all-- either organized, thrown away, recycled, or put into bins that will go out for the garage sale. It was a fantastic feeling, to finally go to bed in a room that contained no boxes of junk that threatened to strangle me in my sleep. There are still some scary rooms in our house-- the storage room, the office, and the garage-- but if our bedrooms are relatively clutter-free, that is a huge relief.

At any rate, the main reason why I started writing this is because I need advice: what do you do about change? As in, how much change should I have on hand for the garage sale, and in what denomination (ie, quarters, dollar bills, fives, etc)? I've priced everything to be 25 cents, 50 cents, a dollar, and so on, so I don't have to deal with dimes and nickels too much. But I'm at a loss as to knowing how much change I should have. Any input from the experts would be appreciated!

We're planning the sale for this weekend (Friday and Saturday actually). If you're in the area, feel free to stop on by. Who knows, maybe we'll even have something for sale that you want.

Well, the baby is crying; I've got to go.

4th of July

It was a busy day. Rob ran the Firecracker 5K this morning, and William and I walked over to watch. I was in a really bad mood because Will would not take a nap, but he was very tired and kept crying and pummeling me with his fists. I was also in a bad mood because I wasn't running the 5K myself. The thing is, I didn't actually want to run the 5K (I hate 5K's, and this one in particular because the course is usually short and makes you think you are better than what you really are), but I wanted to be able to run the 5K, you know? But that is a whole nother issue that is beyond the scope of this blog entry.

In the very brief amount of time between the 5K and the annual 4th of July parade, I managed to get William to eat some cauliflower and pieces of whole wheat pita. His eating is still hit and miss these days. I am trying all sorts of random things to try to come up with something he will eat. A few days ago it was prunes. Yesterday it was mango. Who knows what it will be tomorrow.

Then we all piled onto Big Red (our tandem bike) and road over to the parade staging area. We were going to be riding with the Champaign County Bikes, as we have done in years past. It was about 900 degrees out and 900% humidty, and we waited and waited for the parade to start and for our turn to go once the parade had actually started (we were #78). As we waited and waited, I realized it had been some time since William had nursed, and I started to worry that the parade itself would take so long that he would get hungry. So we popped him out of the Burley and I carried him to a tree to sit in the shade and nurse him (add "Parade Staging Area" to List of Strange Places Where I Have Nursed the Baby). As I was doing so, the sunny sky turned black and it began to pour. It was literally raining on our parade. Everybody was kind of stunned. Not knowing what else to do, I just sat there, under the tree, continuing to nurse the baby. We were all wondering what was going to happen. The parade was already underway (some 50 floats had already taken off)... would they stop it? I'm not sure how long the downpour lasted, but eventually it dwindled, and then just about the time that it was our turn to go, it stopped. About midway through the parade, it was bright and sunny again. Weird.

Before the parade

On the back of the tandem bike, the view is always the same

Ragfields on the bike

The best part of the Champaign County Bikes, in my opinion, is the "Jazz Cycle" (I think that is what they call it). It is a side-by-side tandem recumbent, and the riders (one of whom is our neighbor) play instruments and sing while they ride. It is always a hit with the crowd. As we were all riding by, I heard one of the parade spectators clap for the Jazz Cycle and say, "Well now I've seen everything."

The Jazz Cycle. Note how the guy gets out a piccolo at the end.

A close second to the Jazz Cycle is the lady who has attached a blender to her Xtra Cycle and makes smoothies as she rides.

I love living in Champaign-Urbana.

Before we had left for the parade, we had set up the kiddie pool I recently bought for William. By the time we returned, the water was nice and warm, so Will had a little swim.

Then we went to a neighborhood cook-out, where William was, as usual, the star of the show.

We skipped fireworks this year, since William goes to bed around 7:30pm (and we were all kind of tired). We can always do fireworks next year.

Thanks for reading.

Did I ever really have a low milk supply?

Some researchers are conducting a survey of nursing mothers who have used Domperidone to increase milk supply.

I took the survey, and it reminded me of something I've been wondering for quite a while now: Did I ever really have a low milk supply?

A couple months ago, the local La Leche League put me in contact with another area mother who was experiencing low milk supply issues and taking domperidone for it. She wanted to talk to someone who had been through it and was on the other side, and I was happy to provide any help/moral support that I could. I kept asking the other mom how she knew that she had low milk supply... did her baby cry all the time? Because Will's crying was really the only thing we were going on the whole time I was dealing with this. But no, the other mother said her baby did not cry all the time and was generally pretty easy-going. I think she said that the baby's poor weight gain was the main issue.

For us, Will was a bit slow to gain weight, but he never had dangerously low weight gain or weight loss. During the worst of it, he had a week where he only gained 4.5 ounces. Because I was nursing him almost constantly (as much as 12 hours some days), and he cried whenever he wasn't nursing, the lactation consultant told me she suspected I had a milk supply issue. She thought he must be doing a lot of non-nutritive suckling, otherwise he should be gaining loads of weight considering the amount of time he spent nursing.

Domperidone was the last resort after a long road of trying everything. After a couple weeks of taking it, I definitely felt like I had plenty of milk, and that was a huge relief. But the thing is, Will's crying didn't end. It didn't seem to be colic or acid reflux or an allergy to something in my diet. He just cried. Whenever he wasn't nursing, he cried.

Feeding him was very stressful. Whenever he nursed, he would fall asleep. Maybe after a half an hour or so, I'd unlatch him and he would wake up and cry. Once, I resolved to just let him nurse until he unlatched on his own. I sat there for a solid hour and a half, letting him nurse and nurse (while he was asleep). Finally, I couldn't take it anymore and unlatched him. He woke up immediately, gave me a look of pure contempt, threw his head back, and wailed. He didn't care whether or not there was milk coming out. He just wanted to nurse and nurse and nurse and nurse.

Something I really didn't get at the beginning was the whole concept of the let-down. I guess I thought that the milk was supposed to be shooting out in a constant stream for 10 or 15 minutes straight. But it wasn't that way for me... is it that way for anybody? I'd look at the clock once I started to feel the milk coming out. Most of the time the let-down would only last a minute or 2 before it subsided. Every week I'd be back in the lactation consultant's office, saying, "Milk only comes out of me for a minute at a time... he's not getting enough to eat." I don't know, maybe I am a freak and that's not how it's supposed to be, but that is pretty much the way it is now: several let-downs of milk, interspersed with periods when no milk is coming out.

I don't know exactly what I'm trying to say here, and it's getting very late. I guess I probably did have some milk supply issues and Domperidone did help. But knowing what I know now, I don't think milk supply was the root of the problem. I think Will is just a very needy baby, and for whatever reason, he spent the first 6 or so months of his life crying. I am very glad we are past that.

I still would like to know if hyperemesis or the GBS antibiotics (that I apparently had a severe reaction to), or the freakishly unexplained blood pressure spike I experienced after labor may have had any impact on my milk supply.

Oh, and one more thing, I think Domperidone made me dizzy, even though that wasn't really supposed to be a side effect.

What is the matter with me? Morning will be here before I know it, I've got to get to bed.

Dear William (10 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 10 months old. You are such a very busy little person. You reach and grab for everything. You love to bang two things together (like a spoon and a bowl). You are always engrossed in some activity-- generally involving trying to shove things into your mouth. You babble constantly. You giggle uproariously if I blow a puff of air into your face or if I tickle your tummy or toes or if I lift you up high into the air and say "Wheee!" You still love peek-a-boo. You still love the book That's Not My Monkey that your Great Auntie Marj gave you for Christmas. There are times when you still cry a lot too.

You got a new tooth this month. Your top left incisor. It was a doozy coming in. It took about 2 weeks of hard work. You had a runny nose and were fussier than normal and you would wake up in the night. I was hoping that both upper incisors would come in at the same time, but no luck. That other one is working you over right now. This one is even more of a doozy. Your sleeping (and mine as a result) have suffered tremendously. I wish that this tooth would just come through already and be done with. We could both use some rest.

Speaking of rest, there was definitely a bright spot this month. You started taking naps in your crib again. Ever since March, you have refused to sleep in the daytime unless I am holding you or walking with you in the stroller. Then one day this month, I cautiously put you in your bed and you slept for an hour and a half. It was wonderful. It is hit and miss though. Some days you scream the instant I try to put you down. Other days you sleep like a pro. I don't mind holding you while you nap, but sometimes, William, there are other things that need to be done. I can't help but think how much easier this whole motherhood thing would be if you were the kind of baby that took reliable, predictable naps in your crib every day. Do babies like that really exist? I don't know.

You scoot around a lot. You haven't quite figured out how to go forward yet, but you rotate in circles and you can kind of move backward. You get very frustrated when you are on your tummy and I put a toy out in front of you and you end up pushing yourself farther away from it instead of closer. Most of the time when you get up in the morning, you are 180 degrees rotated from the direction I had lain you down in. More often than not, you are clutching your That's Not My Monkey book, which I put at the foot of your crib when we get done reading it at night.

You started the month as a voracious eater, but lately you have been quite stand-offish when it comes to food. Here is a list (near as I can remember) of the new things you have eaten this month: bits of crackers, potato (made you puke), Christmas bean (made you puke), aprium, oat cereal (store bought), bits of various hummus sandwiches I have been eating, toast/bread (you love bread!), grated raw carrot, Nico and Fito's guacamole, spinach, cantelope (made you puke), garbanzo bean, black bean, strawberries, grapes (you didn't like), whole wheat pita, naan, a bit of pea-sprouts from my sandwich, a couple bites of platano, and a few kinds of store bought baby food while we were traveling (more on that later) including peas and rice, lentils and rice, peach/oat/banana and pear/mango.

You went swimming this month for the first time. I had thought you would love swimming, because you thoroughly enjoy splashing in the bath. Your first swim did not go as well as I expected though, I think because you were tired and needed a nap.

William, we are spending your 10th-month birthday in San Francisco. It's your first trip to California. Lucky duck! I didn't go to California until I was 28. You have been kind of overwhelmed with jet-lag and teething. You do not care for the crib that the hotel provided. For most of the week, you have slept in the big bed with your dad and me. You do your usual nighttime rotations. The other morning (well, 4:30am, which was when you chose to get up), your head was pressed against the small of my back and your feet were in your dad's face. I thought it was hilarious, but I guess your father got the raw end of the deal. You breathe very loudly when you sleep. It is hard to believe that such a noise comes out of such a little person.

I took you swimming again in the hotel pool in San Francisco. This time you loved it. No more messing around with baby pools for you. You loved to kick and kick your legs. In general whenever you are on your stomach, you kick your legs very much like a frog would (I should know, my first job out of college was a frog and tadpole care-taker). You frog kicked in the pool as I supported you, and it was hilarious.

You have done many new and exciting things since we've been in San Francisco. You've been to Golden Gate Park, the Presidio, Ocean Beach, Chinatown, Fisherman's Wharf, Coit Tower, the Castro, and Haight-Ashbury. You've had a picnic lunches at Union Square, St. Mary's Square (in Chinatown) and Baker Beach (who would have known clothing was optional there). You've ridden a cable car. You make friends wherever you go because you are always looking at people and smiling at them, which makes them smile back at you, and then they tell me what a beautiful little baby I have.

The most exciting part of our San Francisco trip (to me at least) was that I got to take you to the ocean. My whole life I have loved the ocean, William. The one thing I wanted to be sure to do on this trip was to take you to see it. You cried on the long bus ride to Ocean Beach, and then you fell asleep just before we got there. It was just as well; it was cold and windy and even misting a little bit, not really the best day to go to the beach. The dampness of the air made your hair curl. You slept through the whole thing, only waking up just as we left.

We took you back to the ocean today, to Baker Beach. We hiked there from Golden Gate Bridge. It was lovely, but you cried because you were tired, and eventually you fell asleep while we were still hiking. You had yourself a nice little nap, and when you woke up, you were at the ocean again. I hope someday that you can visit the ocean when you are not so tired.

William, it has been quite a month. It just keeps getting better and better.

Love,

Your mom

Skinny jeans

I know all of you out there reading this lost all your pregnancy weight and fit back into all your old clothes within a week or two weeks or a day or whatever, but I didn't. I stayed fat for a long time. I didn't gain a tremendous amount of weight while I was pregnant (27 pounds), but I held onto it. Actually, that's not quite true. I lost almost all of it while giving birth, most likely because I didn't eat for about 3 days and threw up 2-3 times per contraction (a side effect of the antibiotics they "had" to give me for GBS+). When I came home from the hospital and stepped on the scale to find that I'd lost 20 pounds, I thought, losing this pregnancy weight is going to be a piece of cake.

Speaking of cake.

Even vegan cake will make you fat if you eat enough of it. And I did. I actually gained weight after Will was born and while I was exclusively breastfeeding him. This is probably because my impressive weight loss during his birth was mainly due to dehydration. But also, I became an eating machine after Will was born. My lactation consultant thought I was suspiciously skinny and advised me to eat, eat, eat, in order to increase my milk supply. And I did. For 9 months I'd been constantly puking or feeling like I would puke, and even though the nausea persisted for about 3-4 months after Will was born (actually I am still nauseated sometimes, but not like I was while pregnant), I could eat a lot more things. Like tortilla chips (no salsa though, until just recently), and peanut butter. And cake.

I felt really bad about myself about being so fat, but apparently, not bad enough to stop eating. Plus, having a snack was sometimes really effective at drowning out Will's constant crying. It was like, "As long as I am eating these vegan brownies, I cannot hear you cry!!"

Within the past few months though, I've finally noticed that my clothes are fitting me better, and in some cases, are even loose. Around the time of the marathon, I cautiously stepped on the scale and found that I was only a few pounds over my pre-pregnancy weight (which was Freakishly Thin) and am actually a few pounds less than what I weighed in high school and after we came back from a year in Nicaragua (when I had taken a hiatus from running).

A couple days ago, I was going through a bin of old clothes that I packed away during my pregnancy and by this point had pretty much given up hope of ever wearing again. I put on a skirt that had been tight on me when we came home from Nicaragua and it was pleasantly loose! And then I came across my Skinny Jeans. The last time I had worn them was when I was skeletal and 14 weeks pregnant and so sick that hurling myself into an abyss seemed like a good idea. With much trepidation, I tried on the jeans, not expecting them to go on past the knee.

And they fit! Comfortably! Still a bit tighter on me than back in my glory days, but I can definitely wear them.

So there you have it. I have finally lost almost all of my pregnancy weight and am back in my skinny jeans. And it "only" took 10 months. And I didn't do anything special. Unless you count becoming a vegan (again) and running a marathon.

When Will was the size of a lemon and mama was skinny

Well rounded, but in skinny jeans again

Stellar weekend

We had a lot to accomplish over the long weekend-- mainly house and yard work, but we had a bit of time for some fun too. On Sunday, I had been wanting to go for a longish run (sans jogging stroller). The day got off to kind of a bad start, as I began it in a grumpy mood on account of Will's frequent waking during the night. He has been working on some teeth for at least 2 weeks now. By the end of the weekend, his top left incisor finally poked on through! I was hoping both of the top incisors would come in at once, but the other one is still working on him. "Teething" doesn't really change Will's daytime demeanor, but he does have a bit of trouble sleeping at night during the thick of it.

The day started to look better when I finally got to set out for a 6 mile run in the heat. I wish I would have had time to run 16, but since Will doesn't take a bottle or eat his food if I am not there, 6 was all I could reasonably manage. And it was great. I was slow and I had to walk some, but I loved it. There is something just so purifying about running long distances in the heat. No, I am not going to do the Badwater Ultra, but I do love running in hot weather. It was one of the number one things I missed last year when I was pregnant. That and not puking and/or feeling like I would puke all the time.

After I got home and fed Will again, Rob took him for a walk in the stroller. While they were gone, I went over to Prairie Gardens and got some ground cover-- Vinca minor. We had this ground cover at our house in Dunlap when I was growing up. My co-valedictorian speech (there were 11 of us) at high school graduation was kind of a rambling, incoherent poem about vinca flowers that also somehow incorporated at least one quotation from A Tale of Two Cities. ("It is a far, far better thing that I do than I have ever done...") Yikes. At any rate, I am still working at planting the vinca, and I hope that it manages to grow and spread into a nice ground cover for our flower bed.

When Rob and Will got home from their walk/nap, Will had a quick nip of milk, and then we set off for a picnic lunch and Will's first trip to a swimming pool. We hooked up the Burley to our tandem bike and rode over to the pool. It was our first ride all together on the tandem (well, at least the first ride outside of our neighborhood), and I was kind of nervous. I am actually not very good at riding a bike in general, and I was especially bad at it when I was pregnant. For me, being pregnant felt a lot like being seasick, and I never felt too steady on the bike. Luckily by now all of that is much improved, and after the first couple of miles I was able to relax and remember how great riding a bike can be. Unfortunately by the time we actually got to the pool, it was well past the time he usually eats his lunch, and he was due for another nap. A fair amount of crying ensued.

After I had managed to coax him to consume a reasonable amount of lunch (when he gets in a mood like that, he doesn't want to eat), we went into the pool area and I put some sunscreen on him. Of course, all the doctors and baby books and the internet and random people at the farmer's market and other mothers tell you that you have to put sunscreen on a baby, but I had my reservations about doing this. The last time I put sunscreen on him (yes, it was "baby sunscreen" and the bottle even boasted "pediatrician recommended"), he promptly got his hands in it and rubbed his eyes and then his eyes got so red and swollen I freaked out and almost took him to the ER. A lot of flushing out with water and comfort nursing finally made it better.

Well, the same thing happened with the sunscreen again at the pool. Much more crying ensued. We tried to cheer Will up by taking him into the baby pool and letting him splash around (something he loves to do in the bathtub). It was very bright out, and he refused to keep on his floppy hat or sunglasses, so the sun was in his eyes and he kept rubbing them. Now add chlorine to the sunscreen chemicals he had gotten in his eyes. He was a mess.

This whole thing wasn't working, so we took him out of the pool and I nursed him, which was probably what he wanted all along. I was suddenly very glad I had sucked it up and worn a 2-piece bathing suit. I'd had huge reservations about pouring my post-partum body into such a tiny suit, but practically speaking, I had known it would be the most convenient for nursing. It worked out pretty well. I was kind of surprised though, that the whole time we were at the baby pool I only saw one other mother nursing her baby. I guess I just kind of thought that when you go to a place with lots of babies, a lot of moms will be nursing.

Will took a bit of a nap in my arms and then was refreshed enough for a little bit more fun. (He even wrote about it on his blog)

Will says, "I'm not sure about this."

Will and dad

More splashing

Note the strategically placed towel covering up giant overhanging post-partum belly

It was a good weekend. I suppose it would have been nice if we had gotten even more yard work and house work done, but at least we got to take junior swimming and go on a family bike ride. I'm already looking forward to our next adventures.

Morning breath

When Will was first born, the thing that I most remember was how familiar he seemed to me. It really felt like I had known him forever. I couldn't stop looking at him because he was so beautiful. Every little thing about him was absolutely beautiful and perfect.

In all my staring at him, there were many things I noticed about him, of course. For instance, he had pointy toenails. I thought they were lovely. I thought maybe pointy toenails were a general newborn baby thing. Six weeks later when Cara and John had their baby, I went to visit them and snuck a peak at Baby G's toenails. Not pointy. Hmm.

Will also was constantly sticking his fingers in his eyes. Seriously, unless we had him tightly swaddled, he would shoot his little hands up to his face and stick his fingers right into his eyeballs. I was so afraid he would poke his eyes out.

During one of those early days, when everything was new and hazy and kind of terrible but also kind of wonderful, I remember that Rob and I stood looking at Will after he had fallen asleep one evening. We had no idea how much time we had before he would wake and the screaming would begin again. We whispered to each other about the things we loved about Will. His knees, his nose, his mouth, and yes, his pointy toenails. "I like his breath," Rob added to the list. He probably doesn't remember saying that, but he did. And Will did have really great breath. So sweet.

About a month ago, we'd been at the Gutzvilles for John's birthday. Will ate his avocado and fruit and Cheerios for dinner, and then he fell asleep on our way home from the party. He actually stayed asleep as Rob unhooked him from the carseat and carried him upstairs to his crib. That had never happened before. I thought he'd wake up pretty soon-- he hadn't nursed before falling asleep. But he slept and slept. Finally he woke up around 3 in the morning, suddenly furious that he had been put to bed in his clothes and without a final drink of milk. I hurried across the hall to his room and lifted him out of his crib. As I held him close and he breathed on me, I noticed for the first time ever, he had morning breath!

Sweet breath or not, Will is great. Today he even took a nap in his crib-- something I haven't been able to get him to do for more than 2 months. It was nice that I could get some things done, but there was a part of me that missed just holding him in my arms while he slept.

Thanks for reading.

Dear William (8 months)

Dear William,

Today you are 8 months old. You are growing up so fast!

You have changed a lot during this past month. You started sitting up on your own just after you turned 7 months old. You were sitting up before then, we just always supported you. Then one day your dad sat you up and let go, and you stayed sitting and grinned. You are getting better and better at sitting up on your own. You like to sit and play with your toys. We do have to keep an eye on you though, because every once and a while without warning, you get tired and fall on over.

You were sleeping terribly at the beginning of the month, but in the last couple of weeks you've been sleeping 11 or 12 hours straight through! Unfortunately I've been having insomnia, so I haven't been able to enjoy the benefits of your improved sleeping. Just as well I suppose. For the last 2 nights you were up in the night again, so I'm afraid your streak of good sleeping might be over! We'll see.

Even though things were going well at nighttime, it was pretty tough during the day. You completely stopped napping, but it wasn't because you weren't tired. I don't know why. It was always difficult, but I used to be able to get you to nap through an extended routine of rocking, swaying, and patting your back. I always wondered what would happen if that system fell apart. This month I found out: there was a lot of crying (from both of us). You fall asleep just fine, but the instant I try to lay you down in bed your eyes pop open and you begin to holler. The only way you can get some rest is if I just sit there and hold you until you wake up refreshed. Or if I take you out in the stroller. If I do that though, I've got to drape a blanket over the front of it so you can't see out too well. Then you're out like a light. If I don't do that, you are too busy looking around to fall asleep.

Speaking of going out and about in the stroller-- thank goodness for spring. If only we lived in a place where it was spring all year round. Spring has saved us all. Just about every day (unless it is raining) we go out for walks. More and more I've been taking you running with me too (courtesy of Aimee and Brett's jogging stroller!). It's been great. It makes me wonder how we ever got through the long winter, being all cooped up inside.

Your dad also got a bike trailer for you and took you on a bike ride. I was a little scared about that, but you had a good time!

With the warmer weather, we've finally stopped swaddling you. I'd been kind of worried about how that would go, since sleeping has always been a bit of a challenge. I'd kept thinking that you needed to be swaddled in order to sleep, because whenever I'd tried to lay you down unswaddled, you'd wake right up again. Well on one of these first warm nights, you woke up crying around 11pm, and when I went in to see you, you were hot and sweating. I unswaddled you and held you for a minute, and you went back to sleep. I lay you down in your bed and you stayed sleeping. You woke up just once more that night, which wasn't too bad all things considered. Since then, I haven't swaddled you again, and it's been working pretty well! Now that you're unswaddled and more free to move around, you've taken to sleeping on your left side. The other morning when you woke, you were at a 180 degree angle to the position I'd lain you down in. I still don't know how you managed that.

The other big thing is that you are getting teeth! On April 8th, your bottom gums looked bumpy, and on April 9th, I could see the tiniest bit of two bottom teeth just starting to poke through. When you grabbed my finger to chew on it, they felt sharp! You have also tested them out by biting my chin and shoulder. So far they haven't grown up anymore over the gumline. It is ironic that your teeth came through just as you were on the best behavior of your life. Ever since you were born, you've behaved liked you were teething, but when your teeth actually came through, you were fine. I don't know how this teething thing works, though; maybe the worst is yet to come.

Mama got her hair cut this month too!

You've been doing really well with eating solid foods. It's hard to believe 2 months ago I could barely get you to eat a pea sized amount of anything once a day. Now I feed you a variety of foods at breakfast, lunch and dinner. Usually you have homemade rice cereal with fruit (banana or pear) for breakfast, carrot and zucchini for lunch, and avocado with another fruit for dinner. So far in the past 2 months you've eaten: avocado, bananas, rice cereal (store bought and homemade), sweet potato, pears, squash, millet, sweet peas (store bought), carrot, zucchini, plums, and apple. I think next we'll do green beans.

Other things you are doing include removing your own clothes (don't you hate pants?). You grab your feet and pull off your socks so that you can stick your toes in your mouth. You remove your diaper cover. You've also reached the stage wherein you cry if I don't let you have something you want. You try to grab the mail out of my hands and cry when I hold it out of your reach. You grab your spoon and chew on it when I'm trying to feed you. When I wrestle the spoon away from you to load it up with whatever you're eating, you throw your head back and cry.

William, I've written this letter typing one-handed while you were sleeping in the crook of my arm. Because you won't sleep in your bed, but you were very tired. I know that someday you will be 13 and aloof, and I won't get to hold you anymore, so I'm just holding you close to me now, while I can.

William, I love you more and more each day.

xoxo,

Mama