The Ottoman Empire

Michelle can stand for several seconds holding onto the ottoman. She likes to "walk" around (with me, hunched over, guiding her and my back is definitely paying the price!) and cruise down the hallway or move from one ottoman, stool, couch -- or any other object of the right height -- to the next. She wobbles like a drunk old man leaving a pub, staggering and holding on to things. It's only a matter of time, I suppose, before she can do it on her own and then a whole other world of stress will begin. As much as my back could use the break, I know that once she is truly mobile, I'm in serious trouble. I still have to install the baby gates, remove all the breakables and put plugs and child safety closures on everything. I've been reading "What to Expect the First Year" and it has me REALLY stressed out. Things I never would have thought about, like those door stopper spring thingys that go boing -- apparently the plastic part can come off and is a choking hazard? I really don't know what I'm going to do short of removing everything from my home. Even with that, the main floor is hardwood and ceramic tile. Very unforgiving when she falls. Though I changed out my glass coffee table with a storage ottoman, there are still other hard surfaces and corners to bump into. I can't cover everything with padding. Even in her nursery she could bang her head on the dresser or bookcase. She's already been scooching around, pulling herself as opposed to crawling and I've had to stop her short before she banged her head on something. My stress level is starting to rise.

I got a video of her walking with me down my hallway. She has been practicing her steps at my sister's place and mine. She was almost running for a while here but she seems to have slowed down somewhat. Or maybe she was a little camera shy (any time I try to capture something on video she won't do it. I should try to hide the camera!) Here is the video on Youtube:

I kept waiting for things to get easier. In some ways they had. She was behaving better in the car and out in public, not fussing as much. She sleeps for the most part in the car and even when she wakes up seems interested in looking out the window. She was eating well and sleeping well. Her new routine was oatmeal at 7 pm and then nursing her at 8 pm after which she'd fall asleep and only wake up to nurse and go back to sleep every few hours. Amazing! I could actually get things done. Until suddenly one night she woke up after five minutes (while I was trying to grab a shower) and wouldn't settle down until midnight. Then she still woke up at the crack of dawn. The next day she was cranky all day and rubbing her eyes but wouldn't sleep. She finally had a nap mid-afternoon but still seemed out of sorts. Maybe there's too much going on in her mind. She's trying to take it all in. She's on the verge of one of the biggest steps of her life -- her first actual steps on her own. Right now she has me and my aching back to hold her but I can tell she wants to move on her own.

She is developing an independent streak. She gets frustrated when she wants to do something and can't. She tries to do things herself. She loves sipping water from her sippy cup. She tries to do it herself but usually ends up pouring it all over herself. When I ask "Do you want some water?" she kicks her legs and shakes her fists and smiles from ear to ear. I've never seen anyone get so excited over water. You'd think she was in the desert. I guess just because it's different. She was relegated to warm milk for 6 months so I guess a nice cold glass of water is a welcome change. Though she doesn't seem to like variety when it comes to food. She hates just about everything now (even things like green beans which she used to like) except cereal, sweet potatoes and pears. I tried experimenting with different foods. Broccoli was her least favourite to date. I should have snapped a picture of the face she made. One day it even made her cry. Each new food I give her for 3 days to test for allergy. A lot of them I just won't bother to buy again because she won't eat them. At least she likes her cereal -- rice, oat and barley -- particularly oatmeal. I've made it a nightly routine for her and I to have our oatmeal (mine is Maple and Brown Sugar. Mmmm) before she settles down to bed. It usually works like a charm. My Mom thinks that cereal is comfort food and helps you sleep. I guess a full tummy helps. I'm thrilled that she likes Sweet Potatoes with Turkey so she's getting some protein. I've tried mixing chicken into regular sweet potatoes. She'll usually tolerate it. I just have to be careful not to put too much chicken in it. Pears remain her very favourite food. She likes apples and bananas too but she goes over the moon for pears. Peaches were a flop. I sampled a little and couldn't blame her. I love the actual fruit but for some reason the baby version was just sickening. Too sweet (and this is coming from someone who loves Coca Cola!) I was surprised she didn't like corn. It's always been one of my favourites. It doesn't have a lot of nutritional value so I probably won't get it again. I just thought if it was something she liked I could mix other things with it. God help me if she ever loses her taste for sweet potatoes! She did eat some of the beef with spaghetti but she wasn't in love with it. My Mom said she always thought those mixed baby foods wouldn't be nutritional enough. I said if I can get her to have a little bit of meat it's more than worth it.

She's developing a sense of humour as well. She keeps knocking my glasses off and laughing. She laughs her head off if I make a silly face or noise or voice. She understands more of what I say and reacts to it. The other day she passed gas and I asked her if she tooted. She found that hilarious. I would later learn that she found it so funny because she'd done more than tooted. She had pooped. Her poo now, since starting solid food, is UNGODLY. It stinks to high heaven. I can't believe something so foul can come out of an innocent little baby. No one warned me. I'd been accustomed to her breastmilk poo which was essentially odourless. For 6 months it was a non-issue. I had an open wastebasket for diapers in the nursery. Now since starting solid foods I had to put in a steel garbage can with a lid and it still smells.

Pretty soon I can start giving her finger foods. At eight months babies are allowed to nibble foods that will dissolve in their mouth -- like little pieces of bread, soft cheese, pasta, Cheerios. That will be exciting. I know that she'll love feeding herself. It will be a bit nerve-wracking too. I'm so scared of her choking on something. I will be so careful with just little bits at a time and will never give her anything dangerous (nuts, hard fruit etc). She still doesn't have any teeth or the beginnings of any. Hopefully teething won't make her fussier and keep her up at night when it happens. My Mom got me a little mesh thing that you can put fruit in so that they can suck on it and get the juice without eating the actual fruit. It will be interesting to see her taste a real pear. They're not quite as sweet as the baby version. Finger foods will definitely be an adventure. After seeing how excited she got over a glass of water, I'm guessing Cheerios will really blow her mind! She's constantly putting her toys in her mouth (and trying to put anything else she comes across in too but I stop her when she tries to chew books etc -- except the bath books) so it will be fascinating to her I'm sure that she can put things in her mouth that actually taste like something. I will try to get a video of her eating Cheerios for the first time.

When I see her holding onto the ottoman and I let go for a few seconds, it's scary to think that one day she will stand without holding onto anything, then she'll be taking her first wobbly steps alone. It's hard to let go. I remember when she was a newborn and I was so overwhelmed with her crying all the time and feeding almost constantly but part of me now looks back at that time and thinks "in a way it was easier." She was helpless. She needed me. She couldn't move around or do anything on her own. She couldn't get into trouble. And she didn't weigh so much to carry her. Yes although she does like to be independent sometimes, there are other times (usually when she's overtired/cranky) when she will not let me put her down and it KILLS my arms, wrists, back. Still I am excited about where she is now and where she's going. In some ways it's easier, in other ways it's harder but it's a rollercoaster and I'm enjoying the ride. 

Milk, Poo and Tears

Sometimes it feels like I'm drowning. Between spit-ups and leaky diapers (pee and poop) the baby went through four outfits and five blankets in a single morning. While I was pregnant and accumulating baby clothes I told my Mom I had enough sleepers for her to wear a different one each day. Mom laughed "You'll need about 6 sleepers a day!" At the time I thought she was exaggerating. Before the baby, a single girl on my own, I used to do laundry once a week, if that. With the baby, I'm doing a load a day. I'm getting tired of the sight of orange poo. Sometimes it's a constant stream. Sometimes I have just finished changing her and she's already pooing again. One time she even splashed my hand before I could get the next diaper on! Beware of exploding orange baby poo! At least I know she's eating well but this is ridiculous. It seems almost constant. She eats. She poos. She cries. She sleeps five minutes. And it repeats. ALL DAY LONG. Until you fear for your sanity. It seems like she screams every few minutes with another poo. I understand, mind you. I'm pretty fussy myself. I would get cranky if I was starving and overtired (come to think of it, I am!) and sitting in my own feces (thankfully I am NOT. But I do suffer from bouts of IBS and have spent a lot of time in the bathroom. Maybe poor baby has inherited my bowel blues.) So I would complain too. But sometimes she keeps crying even after she's been fed and changed and everything is good and then it's just frustrating. "But you have no complaint!" I try to tell her to no avail.

It can be daunting dealing with bodily fluids from morning until night. I'm surprised I don't have nightmares about orange diarrhea! They tell me the day will come when she will only mess one or two diapers a day. Right now it's about 6-10 a day. Or more. I lost count. At least 4 really big poos. A few smaller poos & a bunch of wet ones. She never used to spit up milk. Now she's spitting up more and more (which I hear is normal). There are often little white curds in it. (Curds and whey? What is she? Little Miss Muffet?! What kind of milk am I making here?) I heard that when they are first born they don't have tear ducts. She certainly does now. It breaks my heart to see her little tears. I never want her to cry. Sometimes it does make me angry though, when she's fed and clean and everything seems good and she still fusses. It's like she doesn't have a right to cry! I tell her I'm the one who should be crying! She has me to take care of her and meet her needs but there's no one to take care of me and I barely have a moment to care for myself!

One day when she was upset inexplicably I sat with her laying on my lap in the rocking chair making a gentle shushing noise (it occurs to me how much easier it would be if we lived by the ocean. The sound of the waves would be soothing for both of us) until she stopped crying and fell asleep. Then I started to cry. I looked at the turquoise wall that used to be grey, sitting in the nursery that used to be an office (at least for a few months) for her father, wondering where he is, what he's doing, whether he ever thinks of us. Even if he hated me (and I don't know why he would when I gave him everything, the key to my house and my heart) how could he walk away from his own child? And not ever want to see her, hold her, know her? How could he just forget? How does he carry on with his life and just pretend we never happened? I still can't believe it. And I wondered, just for a fleeting moment, what if I hadn't gone on that date, hadn't met him at Tim Hortons, hadn't fallen in love with the most cruel, most cowardly man on earth, hadn't let him move in too soon, hadn't gotten pregnant unexpectedly. Then I looked down at my perfect, beautiful little cherub and I sobbed deeply (as quietly as I could so as not to disturb her) and I thought "But I couldn't undo this. I wouldn't undo this. Even after all the pain, all the stress, all the anguish. It had to be. She had to be. And I would do it all over again to have her."

"I love you, baby," I told Michelle, wiping away my tears, "Mama loves you." She let out a little sigh in her sleep and her lips curled into a half smile. "Even when you're killing me, I love you."

I survived abandonment. Pregnancy. Being pregnant alone. (And still having to do housework, yard work, gardening, mowing the lawn, heavy lifting, even at 9 months pregnant.) I survived labour and delivery, even when it got rough at the end with a male doctor stepping in to "assist" -- reaching into my insides up to his elbows and twisting things around, even using a plunger (vacuum) and salad tongs (forceps) to pull my 9 pound 4 ounce baby out -- and ripping me apart in the process. I'm hoping the stitches from the episiotomy are healing OK. I'm too scared to look. Survived the first few difficult weeks with a newborn, the challenge of breastfeeding, no sleep, barely a second to myself to eat, go to the bathroom, do laundry. I survived. And I will survive. I have to be strong for her. She's worth it. What doesn't kill you makes you stronger.

Sometimes my heart still breaks though. I know that hormones are part of it. My breasts are leaking milk. I'm on little to no sleep. I'm run ragged from morning to night trying to meet the needs of an adorable though ruthless and irascible dictator in diapers. I am so owned. Her father mesmerized and controlled me. Now she's doing the same. The difference is she's innocent. She doesn't mean to tear me apart (even when she nearly bit my nipples off the first week of breastfeeding.) Sometimes I just think about all that has happened this past year. I see the months flicker by like movie scenes. Meeting Mike. Him moving in. Finding out I was pregnant. The house full of pets. Christmas and the beautiful letter he wrote me about how much he loved me, how excited he was about the baby, how we'd be a cute little family and I was stuck with him forever. Then his unexplained disappearance in February. Losing Banff. Being broke. Everything falling apart. All the heartache. Then miracles happening, hope, life getting better. The months of pregnancy -- a rollercoaster of highs and lows. Labour and delivery. The pain and fear and joy. Meeting my baby. The scary first few days trying to care for her. Seeing her smile the first time. Looking into her eyes. Sometimes I'm overcome with emotion. I can't believe it all happened. Sometimes I just need a good cry. It's like I can only hold it in so long and then I crack, the dam breaks and it all floods out. It's a release. A relief.

Some days it feels like an uphill battle. She poos and it leaks through the diaper and is all over her outfit and blanket. So I bathe her (which is quite an ordeal in itself with a little screaming on her part though she usually enjoys it at least partially. She never likes getting out.) Then when she's all clean and I'm putting the lotion on she pees/poos on the towel. "Really?!" It's so frustrating. I'm not about to bathe her again but it's disheartening to go through all that just to have her sitting in pee/poo again anyway. Although with 10 or more diaper changes a day it's not as though I can keep her pee/poo free for long! You just go through a ton of baby wipes and wash cloths to keep up.

There are times I think "This is hell!" and I don't know how I'll cope. Other times I manage to have a sense of humour about it. And then all of a sudden she'll surprise me and have a really good day -- sleeping better at night, not fussing so much during the day, letting me go through a grocery store or visit friends without screaming. Then there are the magical moments when I watch my little angel sleeping, when she smiles at me or stares at me wide-eyed, innocent and full of wonder. Those moments are worth anything. Even poo and screaming.

A public health nurse came to the house to see us. I guess it's standard practice when someone has a baby for them to send someone to make sure you're doing OK. It's a good idea. You never know. I mean you need to read a manual and take a written test and road test before they let you drive a car but you give birth to a fragile little human and they let you walk out of the hospital the next day without any sort of test! The biggest responsibility on the planet, caring for a baby and yet there is no test, no manual, no license. You just figure it out on your own. (Mind you the nurses did give a few pointers in the hospital. Some more helpful than others.) I remember one nurse, a cool one (I wish she had been my nurse the whole time instead of the scatterbrain that was dealing with me most of the time) saying "People think that babies are so fragile, that they're like eggs. But they're hard-boiled eggs. They're more resilient than you think." It was after she had shown me the proper way to breastfeed and it seemed a bit aggressive to me. She thought I wasn't aggressive enough. (I don't know why but this reminds me of the one time I went horseback riding. The trainer was telling me to kick the horse and I wouldn't. She warned me that I was "too nice" and the horse would be in control instead of me. I couldn't help it. I didn't want to kick the horse. "It doesn't hurt them," she reassured me, "they're tough and they're used to it." But I still couldn't do it. So of course while everyone else's horse was sauntering along obediently at a leisurely pace, mine was galloping ahead at breakneck speed, scaring me to death and doing as he pleased because I was too much of a wimp to take control. Nice guys finish last. Unless they're on a horse and then I guess I would have come in first with my wild out of control stallion!) OK this paragraph was supposed to be about the nurse and somehow I ended up on horses... I guess the point is (when it comes to animals or children) sometimes you have to take charge, to take control or they will run amok and drag you with them. Anyway, the nurse was very nice. I told her my tale (about the baby's father leaving etc.) She thought he was a monster and that I was very strong. She complimented me on the baby, on my home and said that I seem to be doing really well. It felt good to have a stranger come in and tell me that I'm doing the right things and have it all together. It was reassuring to have positive feedback, especially from an expert. It's easy to doubt yourself when it's all so new and when you have people throwing in their (often negative) two cents about what you "should" be doing.

I also had a very nice visit with a couple of friends, James and Amy, and Michelle was surprisingly good at their place. She was all smiles and in good spirits most of the time. She almost made a liar of me (they had heard about Michelle screaming and thought I was making it up) of course by the evening she was showing her dark colours again and started exercising her lungs until her face turned red. I took my cue and bid them good night. It was a treat to have a home cooked meal, a bathroom break (James held her while I went to the ladies room. Not always an option when I'm home! Sometimes I have to hold it indefinitely!) and people to talk to who are down to earth, relaxed and calm. It was a good vibe for Michelle and I to be around. So thanks guys! Amy made a beautiful Little Mermaid blanket for Michelle and cooked a nice dinner (which I inhaled ravenously!) James was hilarious as usual and even had Michelle smiling and laughing. Aside from her relatives she doesn't have a lot of men in her life (I don't plan to have one in my life for quite some time! I wouldn't have time anyway!) so it's nice for her to be around a nice one now and then.

 

I decided to brave the grocery store again (the same one she'd had her meltdown in before). I do have to eat after all! Miraculously she stayed asleep the whole time. I almost have it down to a science now though. Feed her. Wait half an hour. Change her diaper (a huge poo). Then she's still a bit fussy because she's tired and just about ready to fall asleep. That's the perfect moment to get her into the car. She falls asleep during the ride and then is still knocked out while in the shopping cart. She did start to fuss on the ride home. I crinkled some foil that my Mom had given me. For some reason the noise stops her crying and she goes back to sleep. Sometimes a noise is all it takes. A distraction. Entertainment.

And recently I learned that she loves dancing. I had the radio on a dance music station (I miss going dancing) and I had her in my arms because I was trying to lull her to sleep. I started dancing around with her. She loved it. She looked quite content. The more I bopped around and swayed back and forth, the happier she seemed. Before I knew it, she was out like a light. It's good exercise for me and entertains her so I think I'll be dancing a lot. She likes her swing too sometimes but other times it doesn't cut it. Sometimes I guess she just needs to be cuddled and carried. Needs to know that Mama is there.

She was also good as gold in Walmart. She stayed asleep the entire time and even when I was cashing out, she woke up but was still mellow and didn't cry. I was so relieved. I thought maybe she's turned a corner and is going to be good from here on out. But then she had a difficult night, fussing and inconsolable. It seems if she has a good night then she's fussy during the day and if she has a bad night she's good during the day. I guess it's too much to expect her to be happy and restful both day and night!

The summer is almost over and I was a little disappointed that we didn't get to the beach (other than my little backyard beach) this year but it is too soon. She's too young and fragile and being a pale blue eyed redhead her skin would be much too sensitive, vulnerable to the sun. You can't put sunscreen on a newborn. We'll have to wait until next year. I'm not really ready either. I'm hoping to be bikini ready by next year. I'm hoping to lose the "Mommy tummy." It has gotten a little smaller. I wish I could lose the stretch marks too. I hope they fade at least. I wanted to do a little beach photo shoot with Michelle so I improvised. I had these cute shades from Osh Kosh and adorable little sandals from Old Navy. I did have an adorable pink swimsuit that was supposed to fit 0-3 but it was way too small for her. She pretty much fits 3 month sized clothes now. She looked at me like "What the heck are you doing Mom?" Sorry baby. You live with the paparazzi! You're going to be in a LOT of photos! Everyone always says they grow so fast. I want to capture every moment.

When she gives me a hard time -- with seemingly endless poo and tears -- I can be grateful that she won't stay this way for long. Her stomach will grow and she'll be able to hold more food and poo less often. And hopefully she will learn that her needs are always met and she doesn't need to cry so much. But when she's a delight -- wide-eyed, sweet, smiling or just contentedly looking at me curiously and I look at her angelic little face and her tiny fingers and tiny toes, it makes me sad that she won't stay this way for long. She'll grow up and won't need me so much and maybe I'll look back at this time and think how lucky I was, even when she was screaming. 

She's one month old now! It's hard to believe a month has gone by already. It really has flown by. Even the really hard days. This time is so precious. It is more than just breastfeeding, changing diapers and soothing tears. It's about bonding. It's about love and patience. It's baby Michelle and I learning as we go. It's not easy, for either of us. She's discovering a whole new world that she's just entered. I'm figuring out how to be a Mom (a whole new world for me!) We both have a lot to learn. We'll figure it out together.

Timing is everything!

Survived a trip to the mall with the baby!  It was a miracle. I was so relieved. After a few nightmarish shopping excursions where she screamed bloody murder the entire time, I was understandably nervous about the prospect of going through the mall with her. I couldn't avoid it forever. I needed to return something and I also wanted to pick up "What to Expect - The First Year" at Chapters. (I had read "What to Expect When You're Expecting" while I was pregnant and although a lot of it stressed me out, it was good to have a guide that was so thorough it covered everything that could possibly happen at each stage so that I was prepared. I figured I might as well have something to guide me through babydom. Babies don't come with a manual but they really should!) Michelle was starting to fuss as I put her in the car but she fell asleep during the ride and when I put the seat into the stroller and started to move, she was good to go. Thankfully she stayed asleep the entire time. I was crossing my fingers as I headed through the mall repeating a mantra in my head "Please be good. Please stay asleep!" Of course, on this occasion the timing had been just right. She had been fed so she wasn't hungry and just as I had put her in her carseat about to leave the house I could hear gurgling down below so I took her out and changed her. It had been a really big orange poop. It was a nuisance having to take her out of the seat and start from scratch again but it was a huge blessing that the big poo happened while we were still home. I'd seen how she reacted to pooing when we were out and it got really ugly. She screamed until she was purple and the poo seemed to implode under the carseat harness. So if I can time my outings for after the baby is fed, warm and dry and clean, she can sleep happily while we're out. Unfortunately it's not always so easy to time things. I never know exactly when she's going to poo. Every day is a little different. You can never be sure. Sometimes it sounds like she's going but it's just gas. I am noticing patterns though. She does tend to have her biggest poops early in the day. But she feeds and poos almost non-stop all day long except for a few minutes here and there when she sleeps. My friend convinced me to start using the diaper cake (it was so pretty I was trying to save it but she said I better use the newborn diapers while they still fit. They are pretty snug now. She's basically a size 1 diaper already. She's in 0-3 month clothes and even fits some 3 month old ones) and I've gone through the first two layers in under a week!

I have taken her out for walks in the stroller a few times now. She seems to like it. It's good for me to get out too. Being cooped up all the time can make you a little stir crazy. It feels good to get some exercise and fresh air. When I check on her in the little window built into the stroller she's usually wide awake. She seems fascinated by the experience. I'm not sure whether it's the bumpiness or the play of light and shadow that she likes the most. They have baby swings but they almost need to invent a baby bumpy ride that simulates a stroller, or a car. I've heard they like the dryer too. Apparently she loves the sound of the vacuum cleaner as well. I had her in my left arm while I vacuumed with the right today and she fell asleep. Housework is a real workout now that I have her! She often doesn't nap long enough for me to do things without her. So I just have to try to "octopus" it and do everything with her in my arms. At least when she's able to hold her head up I can start putting her in the "Snugli" carrier and carry her like a kangaroo while I hop around to do everything.

I've started reading "What to Expect" and I was happy to learn that the reason babies sleep better on formula (while I was supplementing her with formula in those early days, as instructed by the breastfeeding clinic Michelle did seem to sleep a bit more. Sometimes for three or four hours at a time) is that they can't digest cow's milk that easily so it stays in their system longer and makes them feel full. Breastmilk is so easy to digest that it goes right through them so they are hungry more often (which explains the frequent feedings and the endless stream of pooed diapers -- about 5 a day. Not to mention the peed ones too.) I like to have a book where I can find the facts instead of relying on confusing and contradictory advice from well-meaning friends and family. For a while there I was starting to get discouraged. It felt like everyone was a critic and telling me what I was doing wrong. "My baby didn't poo that much...Maybe you're overfeeding her." "Maybe she's lactose intolerant." "Maybe she's malnourished because you're not eating enough protein. You should be frying steaks." "My baby slept all the time as a newborn." It was getting to the point where I didn't want to talk to anyone because they were making me feel worse! I was already feeling pretty vulnerable from over-exhaustion. I know that they were only trying to help but it felt like they were finding fault which wasn't what I needed when I was already feeling depleted and discouraged and trying to do all the right things. I was starting to get defensive. I eat plenty of fruits and vegetables, drink a lot of milk and have some meat but the baby limits what and how much I can eat. She doesn't always give me time to cook anything. I have to grab things that I can gobble in a couple of minutes. I'm on my own. I don't have a partner that can cook or watch the baby while I cook. Sometimes I'm starving, I think Michelle is finally asleep so I run to nuke a frozen dinner and she starts to scream before I even get to take the first bite. So I try to cradle her in one arm and eat with the other. But if she continues to cry, I end up leaving my meal to change/feed her. Breastfeeding takes so much out of me physically and it's not always easy to feed myself so I wind up weak and exhausted. But I don't need people telling me that I'm a bad mother for not eating when I'm trying to be a good mother by putting the baby's needs before my own. When she screamed in the grocery store one time as I threw things in the cart I was saying "Mama needs to eat too baby or Mama will die!" I didn't even care about the people around me staring. Welcome to my Breakdown people! I hope I never have a shopping trip like that again. It almost seems like any time I try to get food for myself (either buying it, cooking it or eating it) my baby will start to cry as though she just can't let me eat! She's the best diet on Earth! Sucks 500 calories or more out of me and doesn't even let me take that much in!

Mom is a worrier and always has something negative to say about something. I don't even watch the news because it just brings me down but I always get to hear about things from Mom. (Though I often wonder if she's getting the story right!) My mother can't resist calling to tell me the latest thing she heard/read on the news. She called frantically that the "Bumbo" chairs had been recalled. They've been around forever. I'm sure they're fine. I guess some people were putting them on tables or something. That's just silly. I would wait until she's old enough first of all. I would certainly keep an eye on the baby if she was in the chair and I wouldn't put it up on anything. Mom also called one day to say that "Eggs are as bad for you as cigarettes." Apparently some report she'd heard on TV. That's ridiculous. I thought that eggs were a healthy source of protein. I know they have cholesterol but come on. One day something is good for you and the next day it's bad. Mom shouldn't be allowed to watch the news. It's all doom and gloom and fear mongering. The worst thing possible for a chronic worrier like my Mom. I try to limit my worries. These days I just don't have time anyway. My biggest concern is the baby crying. Everything else in the world will have to wait!

People like to tell you how things should be. People without kids will tell you what they think or heard from other people or read. People with kids will tell you what their kids were like or what they did in their day (which may have been several decades ago and may have been dead wrong -- for instance they used to say not to feed more often than every four hours and put your baby to sleep on her stomach. That's the opposite of what they say now.) Even people who have had babies recently may not necessarily understand what you're going through. The problem is that each baby is different. Just as no two labours are alike (I heard so many vastly different stories and my own wound up being nothing like any of them. You really don't know what your own experience will be until you have it.) no two babies are alike. Some people have babies that never cry and sleep through the night right from the beginning. Others have fussy babies that cry a lot and rarely sleep. I had some people tell me I have to feed every few hours and that I should wake the baby to feed if she doesn't get up on her own. Others told me never wake a sleeping baby. It's hard to know what to believe. I just let Michelle call the shots. I figure she knows better than anyone when she's hungry. When she cries, I do the checks. If her diaper is dirty (and 9 times out of 10, it is!) I change her. Then if she still cries, I assume she's hungry and try feeding her. She usually nurses voraciously so she was obviously hungry. When all her other needs have been met, if she still cries I assume she's tired and needs to nap so I entertain her by carrying her, singing to her, rocking her, putting her in her swing, going for a walk or a drive, or sometimes just letting her lay on my chest for two hours (she was quite content while I watched my show, even though my chest was hurting I didn't want to disturb her. Sometimes she cries as soon as I put her down so I just let her lean on me as long as she's happy.) She is demanding. Sometimes it's exhausting meeting her demands, but I do it. It makes me happy when I'm able to stop her tears. What gets frustrating is when she'll cry after all of my efforts and I don't know what's wrong. I'll ask her "What's wrong?!" (As if she's suddenly going to be able to speak and tell me!) When all else fails, I've found that making a strange noise, especially a loud shushing sound seems to quiet her. It probably just distracts her so she forgets that she was crying. I've tried playing with her, introducing toys to her but it's probably too soon. I'm not even sure how much they can see at this point.

My Mom and sister came over for a visit and Michelle was thankfully pretty good, though she is high maintenance. When she's not being fed and changed she likes to be constantly entertained. You can't dare to put her down for a moment or she'll cry. It was a treat to have my Mom hold her and walk around with her for a bit to give me a break while I grabbed a bite to eat. Mom said that the baby looks like me and seems to have my temperament (God help me!) I was a real handfull and now I suppose I'm getting my payback for what I put my mother through. Sorry Mom. I had no idea! Thank you for everything that you endured to have me and raise me. I may not have fully appreciated it until now. You always said "You'll never understand until you have kids of your own!" I never expected to have my own children. Now here I am with a baby (biggest surprise of my life!) and I finally understand what it's like -- how much love, how much stress, how much sacrifice and work children really are.

I was hoping she'd take after me and not her father (who as most of you know has been M.I.A. since February. Good riddance.) Then again he was even more high maintenance than I was. M was as needy as a baby, never gave me a moment's peace or privacy, not even to go to the bathroom (don't ask!), was a voracious eater, would barely let me eat anything (sometimes literally took the food out of my hand)...Oh dear, come to think of it maybe she did get a couple of things from Dad. Sometimes she seems to be giving the finger too (see photo!) It was something my ex did often, especially for pictures. Yeah, he was a charmer! I'm sure it's just coincidence with Michelle though. My Mom said Michelle's hair seems to be a little more blonde than strawberry now. I was born platinum blonde and turned auburn later. Could she be doing the reverse? I guess we'll have to wait and see. Her eyes are denim blue at this point but I've heard that they can change as well. Of course both M and I had blue eyes so there's a good chance they'll stay.

Mom carried the baby around, singing to her, bouncing her, keeping her amused until her arms were aching. She said I was the same way as a baby. I wanted constant attention. I wouldn't let her put me down all day long. I also screamed all night and wouldn't sleep. At least thank Heaven, Michelle doesn't do that. She's actually started sleeping pretty well at night at least (a few hours anyway). Knock on wood.

I couldn't resist trying her little shades on her. I'd gotten them several months ago and thought they were adorable. They seemed so small but look big on her. She looks like she could be a baby Elton John! We didn't really get to hit the beach this year but there's always next year. Maybe by then I'll be bikini ready though even if I manage to lose my mommy tummy I don't know if the stretch marks will fade. I'm hoping. I'm still using the stretch mark cream that I got months ago. It doesn't seem to do much aside from smell like cookies. There's cocoa in it or something. Can they invent something that makes stretch marks vanish? Please? Although my appearance is not as important to me these days I look back at photos of me from last summer and want to cry. I worked so hard to get to my goal weight/shape having no idea that I was going to fall in love and shockingly wind up pregnant in the Fall. Still, Michelle is worth the stretch marks (and the stress and sleeplessness). I just hope she appreciates it. Someday if she's giving me a hard time (in her teens for example) I may break out some of those old bikini photos and then show her my stretched out belly. The Mom guilt! My mother certainly used it on me. I guess I'll probably resort to it someday with my daughter.

Time isn't always on my side these days. It seems it rarely is. The baby will fall asleep and I'll rush to get something done only to have her wake at the worst possible moment. One day I had just finished bathing her because she'd had a really messy poo. I had her upstairs, in her towel, about to put on her lotion when she pooed on the towel! I wasn't about to bathe her all over again. Luckily it didn't go too far. A couple of times she's peed while I'm changing her and wet the clean outfit and blanket I had just put on her. At least being a girl she doesn't spray up when she pees (I've heard some nightmare stories about changing baby boys!) Or she'll wake up and start screaming in a crowded grocery store. Or she'll poo through her cutest little dresses. But sometimes I get lucky, the stars align, baby is good, all goes well and it's such a treat. I wish every day could be like that. Baby Michelle would sleep soundly and I'd get everything done. She'd wake up refreshed and happy and never cry. But she's a baby. She's like the weather. Unpredictable. Uncontrollable. You never know what you're going to get. (Though while I'm on the subject I am so grateful for the beautiful weather we've had in August. I was worried it would be too humid when I got back home with no A/C but it's been perfect.)

For a recovering control freak like me it can be hard to surrender control to a small human. You can't reason with her. She wants what she wants when she wants it and you better figure it out because she doesn't speak English yet! Stupidly I always ask her anyway "What is it love? What's wrong? Are you hungry? Do you need to be changed? What is it?" I thought she would have different cries for different things but so far it's the same plaintive "Waaaaa" whether she's hungry, or dirty, or tired, or just needs to be cuddled. So you try each one and figure it out by the process of elimination. It does feel good when you get it right and she stops crying. It's beyond frustrating when you get it wrong and you can't figure out what she's on about. "But you're clean, you're full, you have no complaint! Everything is good! I don't get it!" Those are the "I'm just bored, entertain me" cries. That's when the vacuum cleaner, the stroller, the car, white noise, motion etc come in handy.

One night she kept falling asleep while nursing but each time I tried to put her down she'd wake up minutes later and scream. My favourite show was coming on and I didn't want to miss it. She fell asleep on my chest and seemed quite content. I let her sleep there. It was easier than disturbing her and having her scream. So I let her stay that way through the entire show. My chest was aching and my arm was numb by the end of it but at least she stayed quiet and content.

It must be scary for a baby. They were safe in their little watery world and then suddenly they're yanked out into this strange place (yanked out with a plunger and tongs as well as doctor's hands in my case. It was a rough labour for both of us!) They don't know where they are or what's going on. They don't know if their needs will be met. When they awaken alone, it must be frightening. They were attached to you for so long, they need to feel that connection. Lying on my chest she hears my heartbeat. She knows I'm her Mama and that she's safe. If she's alone to sleep then she doesn't know where I am. I hope that she will realize I always come back to her, that she can feel secure no matter what. I will always be there to meet her needs. I'm never far away. I know that my sister's kids are still so connected to her and don't like to be apart from her (even at 2 years and 10 years.) You see the panic in his face when my nephew realizes Mama isn't there, even for a few moments. It's overwhelming, but at the same time it's an incredible feeling to know that you're so loved, so needed. You are your child's world.

I am Michelle's world. And I will try to make it as happy as I can. I just hope she cuts me a little slack because I am new to this and I am on my own trying to do everything. There's no one else to put out the garbage, do the shopping and everything else. She has definitely challenged me in a way that no one and nothing ever has. Maybe it was what I needed to make me stronger. We've both been through a lot in the first few weeks. We've survived and we're doing pretty well. Maybe the hardest part is behind us and it'll be easier from here on out. Sure. As a stranger told me in line at the drug store (during another one of Michelle's screaming fits) "Yes this is the hardest stage. At least until she hits her teens..." But that's way way off...

Sh!t happens!

Literally...

My sister and I went to an art show by the lake -- Art in the Park. It was nice to get out and was my first outing with the baby in her stroller. It seemed to be going well. She was sleeping contentedly. People made a fuss of her. I enjoyed looking around at the different artists' booths. I found an adorable little baby mermaid plaque that's just perfect for the ocean themed nursery. I was thinking, "This is great! I can still get out and do things with the baby!"

But then things got ugly...Michelle started to cry. We went back to the car and she was still crying, but she sounded more desperate. Then it became screaming. She screamed the entire car ride home. Was she hungry? Did she need changing? A car ride seems that much longer with a screaming baby, let me tell you. To make matters worse, everyone on the road seemed to be conspiring against me. Cars cut me off so that I'd just miss the light (I needed to make a right and could have if the idiot hadn't passed me and was now stopped there on red, not turning.) I seemed to hit every red light. The baby was howling, inconsolable. I'd never heard her cry like this. She was REALLY upset. I wasn't exactly amused myself.

"Hang on baby!" I tried to console her, "I'm going as fast as I can!"

I get her home and go to take her out of the carseat and I couldn't believe my eyes. What in the Hell...?

She was absolutely COVERED in orange diarrhea. I don't know how it got out of the diaper. Apparently the diaper wasn't very tight on the left side. Apparently her poop was volcanic, erupting out of the diaper onto her frilly little pink dress (first time wearing it. Now it was stained orange), her belly, the blanket, the carseat, everything. I couldn't believe it. Of all the times to have this happen. It had been such a cute little dress. And poor baby. No wonder she was screaming. I would be too. Covered in feces. Nasty.

So I bathed her, put the dress in the sink to soak, washed out the carseat and was utterly exhausted and discouraged. I had been feeling good. Feeling like things were getting easier. I was encouraged that I was still able to do fun things with the baby. Now this unexpected nightmare knocked the wind out of my sails. At least I managed to get the stains out of the dress with stain remover. (It said it worked for red wine. Apparently it works for orange poo too.)

Someone told me it would get easier after three weeks. Then it would get easier after three months. The first week with a newborn is the hardest. Then again I was also told that newborns are "easy." "They sleep 16 hours a day." Yeah, right. I'm lucky if she falls asleep for fifteen consecutive minutes before she poos or is hungry again.

Some days I'm feeling rested and positive and happy that I feel like I can handle anything. Other days I feel exhausted and drained and it feels like I can't keep up with diapers and feedings. Some days I feel like I'm a hair's breadth away from a full-scale nervous breakdown. Except I don't have time to have a breakdown. And how would I breastfeed from the insane asylum?

So baby and me survived the exploding poo eventually, though we were both traumatized. Once she was fresh, clean, warm and dry, she started to settle down. After her feeding she was sleepy and happy.

Sh%* happens. You just deal with it. It's unexpected. It's not pleasant but it's not the end of the world. Though it can feel like it at the time. I'm so much more fragile on no sleep. It makes every problem seem magnified a thousand times. I know that hormones can wreak havoc as well. I'm guessing that while breastfeeding the body is overloaded with hormones (as much as when you're pregnant, if not more) so that likely makes me feel more emotional as well. Then there's the fact that I'm sore from the stitches, am bleeding lochia constantly (like a never-ending period since delivery). Not to mention that my life has changed utterly and completely in ways I couldn't have fathomed. There's a lot going on. Yes a baby is a miracle. Yes I love her more than my own life. But becoming a Mom is still a lot to take on and quite honestly I had no idea how hard it would be. I thought I knew, but until I was in it, I really hadn't a clue.

My friend called one day while I was changing the baby. We could barely hear each other above Michelle screaming. "I'll have to call you back," I said, "My life is poo and milk now. Just poo and milk."

The baby's poo has metamorphosed quite a bit in the first couple of weeks. It started out looking like pudding. A sticky black/forest green tar-like substance -- meconium -- unearthly poop left over from being in the womb. That lasted a few days. Then it became kind of a mustardy colour, complete with mustard seeds. The latest incarnation is this watery orange stuff. I guess that's what my breast milk does to her. I was concerned that it's always diarrhea but considering she's on an all-liquid diet I guess that's just how it is. She won't have a solid poo until she's eating solid food. Something to look forward to I guess. I hear that eventually there will only be two diapers to change a day. Right now it's about 6. One positive thing about so much poop is that at least I know she's eating. But it is overwhelming to have to change her so often. Especially when it goes through more than a diaper. Right through her clothes and blanket. I'm doing a load of laundry every day now for the baby. I've already thrown one sleeper and blanket out (I really loved the pink dress so it was worth saving but I'm not going to that much trouble for a plain old sleeper or blanket.)

The worst is when I'm out or heading out because it's an ordeal to get her in the car seat to start with and then when you have to change her and get her out and start from scratch again, you just know you're going to be really late for your appointment! Timing is everything. I'll be just heading out the door and hear the gurgling sounds of a poo brewing and have to take her out and go through it all over again. That's still better than having it happen while we're out and hearing her scream.

One day I tried to go to the grocery store quickly. She'd had a good feeding, seemed mellow. I figured it would be a good time. She'd sleep in the car and hopefully be peaceful in the store. Yeah. Not so much. I was just grabbing some fruits and vegetables (I have no time to cook anyway so I might as well just eat healthy fresh things I can gobble quickly without preparation) and some milk. By the time I went for the milk, she was screaming bloody murder. I went to what I thought was the shortest line to cash out but of course there is always a problem to hold things up. Especially when your baby is howling like she's possessed. An elderly couple needed a price check on their milk or something. It felt like it was taking an eternity. The baby was getting more distressed. I couldn't console her. I figured she probably needed changing  but there wasn't much I could do in line at the grocery store. Everyone was staring. Finally it was my turn. By the time everything was bagged she had stopped crying. She must have sensed we were going home. When I got home it was even worse than I thought. Another explosion. Poor little girl. She was covered.

My Mom thinks that the baby takes after me. Mom told me I was very easy to toilet train. I couldn't stand to be uncomfortable for a moment. It seems my little girl is the same. I don't blame her. It's just overwhelming. Between the cries of hunger and the cries of discomfort, she does a lot of crying. Though people told me you'd be able to tell the difference in the type of cries, to me they are the same -- a desperate cry of helplessness. It is the only way they can communicate. "Something isn't right! Help me!" So I just check each time and rule things out by process of elimination. If her diaper is dirty, I change her. If it's not, I know she's hungry (she does give other cues as well like making sucking movements with her mouth and moving her head around like she's looking for a nipple.) When both those are taken care of if she's still crying then she's just overtired and upset and just needs to be amused/consoled long enough to fall asleep. Someone suggested I let her cry. I can't do that. I am here to meet her needs. I can't let her suffer. Besides I've heard that at this early stage it's crucial to make them feel safe and secure so that they will have a solid foundation for later. I don't want her to feel like I don't care, to feel helpless and that her needs won't be met. I try to meet her demands as promptly as I can. I'm only happy when baby is happy.

Thankfully there are some good days, good moments. Outings where she is content and poo/scream-free. We went for a walk in the woods and she really seemed to enjoy it. Even when the path got bumpy. I looked in on her and she was wide-eyed in wonder at the sights and sounds. She must have wondered about the flicker of light as the sun moved through the canopy of trees. It felt good to get some exercise too, though I was absolutely exhausted by the end of it.

The doctor said that walking is about the only exercise that's safe at this stage. I'll have to wait another month or two to do anything more strenuous. I am encouraged that I've already lost 30 lbs. Of course 10 lbs of that was the baby and the fact that I'm burning at least 500 calories breastfeeding and probably only eating about 1000 calories (because there's no time to eat/cook) probably helps. I have to be careful not to get dehydrated though. With all the blood I'm still losing and the milk I'm giving the baby, sometimes I feel weak and faint. Carrying her around and trying to do things with one arm is quite a workout too. So far the hardest thing was doing laundry -- reaching into the drum to pull out my sheets with my right hand while she's cradled in my left arm was almost an acrobatic trick.

I've heard stories from other new Moms who felt as overwhelmed as I do and I know that even on my worst days I can get through it. I'm not alone. So many women have faced the same challenges, felt the same frustrations. And everyone says it will get easier. I got through the first couple of weeks. Hopefully baby and me will settle into a routine and it won't be so stressful. It makes a big difference when I actually get some sleep. My friend told me that sleep deprivation has actually been used as an instrument of torture. You feel so fragile when you don't get any rest. Add to that the fact that you've lived through the greatest physical ordeal of your life, you're dealing with stitches, discomfort and blood loss, dealing with hormones, physically and emotionally giving everything you have for the baby -- it's no wonder you wind up feeling overwhelmed and depleted. 

You just have to be grateful for the happy moments. They make everything else worth it.