Say Uncle!

One day while I was at work and my Mom was watching Michelle, my brother Chris was going to my Mom's house for dinner. Michelle hadn't seen Uncle Chris, her godfather, in a while -- the last time would have been at cousin Evie's birthday party when we all went to Wasaga and then back to Uncle Mike's house for dinner. She was a little shy around him at first that day but then warmed up to him and was smiling while he held her. I got pictures of them smiling together.

 

Before Chris arrived, my Mom was showing Michelle pictures of my brother. "Remember Uncle Chris? He's coming to Grandma's house for dinner tonight." Michelle didn't show any recognition but was just mildly curious about the pictures. Then Chris came to the door. I guess he looked a little different than the last time she saw him and from his photographs. He hadn't been shaving and had a bit of a scruffy beard. Maybe he'd had a long day at work and looked tired. Whatever it was, Michelle apparently went BALLISTIC. She screamed in horror when she saw him and didn't stop screaming the whole time he was there. My Mom finally had to just put her in the playpen in the family room while they tried to eat their dinner, Michelle shrieking all the while. Chris said he would never come over again when my Mom was watching Michelle. I felt terrible about it.

 

I couldn't understand what would make her so upset. She'd seen Chris before and even if he was a stranger she doesn't react that way around strange men when we're out places. She was smiling and friendly to men when we were at the zoo, the beach, the park. She smiles at men when we're shopping. I didn't know what had gotten into her but then I thought the only explanation must be that I wasn't there when Chris came over. Any other time that there has been a man around, I've been with her. I am Michelle's safe place. Without me there I guess she was feeling vulnerable. My Mom had to get the dinner and probably wasn't comforting Michelle the way she would have liked. She was scared and there was no one to hold her and reassure her that it was OK.

 

After that incident I was worried how she would be around Uncle Chris and Uncle Mike at Mike's birthday party. My Mom warned Chris he better shave this time. He said he would just steer clear of Michelle. It made me sad considering that he's her godfather and he always makes such a fuss of his nieces and nephews. I didn't want him to avoid her from now on. Luckily she was fine. She didn't seem to mind Uncle Chris or Mike or even Mike's friends who were strangers. Of course she had me there, her safe place and she did cling to me most of the time.  

It was a dreary rainy day so we were all stuck inside most of the time and it was pretty crowded and chaotic with the whole gang there. When the weather cleared up a bit we headed out to the yard for the obligatory "group photo." One of Mike's friends, Ryan, commented on all the noise when the kids were screaming. "I don't know how you do it!" he said candidly, "I couldn't stand it!" I told him that I used to think that too when I'd hear kids screaming. I didn't think I could handle having kids. "It's different when you have your own," I explained to him, "You love them so much. More than you ever thought you could love a person. Even when it's difficult. They're worth it." He didn't seem convinced. I could understand because I used to be one of those people who didn't think they wanted children. I obviously didn't know myself. I couldn't have imagined that a baby would be the best thing that ever happened to me.

Not having a father around I want Michelle to at least have positive male role models in her life. She's very fond of her Grandpa. Of course she's used to him because she sees him so often when I'm at work. He watches her in the wee hours of the morning when I'm heading out (because my Mom has a hard time getting up that early.) He takes her for walks and plays ball with her in the backyard. She calls him "Pop!" She loves running around outside with him and going for walks in the stroller. My Dad scared her one day though when he came up with shaving cream on his face. She screamed. Maybe she just doesn't like beards. I have a feeling that a trip to see Santa Claus at Christmastime is going to go over like a lead balloon! My Mom said I was scared of Santa as a child too.

I'm so grateful to have my Mom and Dad to watch Michelle for me. There's no way I could imagine leaving her with a stranger. It's hard enough leaving her with family. I'm relieved that things have gone as well as they have. Sometimes Michelle gives them a hard time but for the most part she's pretty good. Once in a while she says "Mama" and cries but she seems content most of the day. In some ways she behaves better for them than she does for me which doesn't seem fair! My Mom said that sometimes when Michelle is acting up and my Dad enters the room, she stops crying. She's on her best behavior for him. I wish she'd show me the same courtesy! Lately she does this thing where she twists around on the change table and screams when I try to change her. She's so strong it's hard to keep her on the table. I have to wrestle with her. It's very frustrating. Then all of a sudden she's happy and laughing. Her mood turns on a dime. You just never know what she'll do.

There was one day that my Mom said Michelle was a perfect angel. She played nicely on her own, didn't fuss at all, had a nice long nap, ate her meals well, gave hugs. If only she could be like that every day! She is a model child when she's well-rested. Unfortunately that doesn't always happen!

I love when I come home from work and my Mom or Dad are out front with Michelle pointing at my car as I pull up. "Mama's home!" Michelle gets so excited she clenches her fists and shakes and points. I run over to her and hug her and she hugs me so tight. My Mom said she always seems to know when I'm about to get home and goes to the door saying "Mama vroom vroom!" It's my favourite part of the day. I don't feel so guilty about leaving her anymore. I think it's good for her to have different experiences and to spend time with Grandma and Grandpa without me there. It also makes us appreciate each other more when we have a break from each other.

Sure she drives me crazy sometimes but even at her worst, I adore my little high maintenance girl and I wouldn't have her any other way. She's saying more words every day and is even trying to speak in sentences now. She can count "1-2-3," say "A-B-C-D" and can say most of the colours -- red, blue "bwoo", green, purple "purp." She amazes me with something new every day. Out of the blue she'll say a new word. Something I don't even remember mentioning to her. We were at the park the other day and a man had his dog off the leash. She says dog and makes a panting noise like a dog. When the man went to put the dog back on the leash Michelle said "Chain." The leash was a silver chain. I'd never even taught her the word. She must have picked it up somewhere. It's strange because her father used to wear a chain all the time (hanging off his pocket, attached to his wallet.) It only makes sense because she can say train, plane and rain. She even says "the rain." But I never even mentioned a chain to her and somehow she knew. She's saying more than 100 words now. And more every day. I was trying to keep a list but can hardly keep up. My Mom said she can't even keep track of all the new words Michelle says when she watches her. "You have to watch what you say," the man with the dog told me at the park "She'll pick up everything. Their minds are like a sponge."


This may be the last one for a while...

As much as I've loved keeping this blog, my life is becoming so busy that it's close to impossible. I've decided I can't continue it at least not right now. I may write a post once in a while (maybe one for Christmas) but for the most part I think it's time to give it a rest. This started as a baby blog anyway and I guess she's technically not a baby anymore, though she'll always be my baby.

I want to thank readers for following my blog and especially thanks to those who offered support and encouragement. When I started this in March 2012 I needed an outlet. Pregnant and alone I didn't know how I would get through. Writing was therapeutic and hearing from compassionate people really helped. I've enjoyed sharing my journey through pregnancy and during Michelle's first year. Being a Mom is an adventure, one I never would have imagined for myself. I feel very blessed. It isn't always easy but I've never experienced so much love or so much joy.

September is nearly over. Soon it will be October. In October two years ago I went for a date with someone who would change the entire course of my life. You just never know where life is going to lead you but I believe the path you take is the one you are meant to travel, the one that will lead you to your destiny. I wouldn't change a thing. To undo mistakes, to take away the heartbreaks would undo some of the most beautiful miracles that ever happened to me. I'm glad it all happened this way. I love Michelle more than anything.

I look forward to the next stage in our journey. I'll be going "off the grid" for a while -- taking a break from the computer. I had become addicted to sites like Twitter and this blog as a kind of online diary. I think it's time to live offline for a while. Life has gotten so hectic that it's hard to find time for this anyway.

Thank you again for reading!

Shots, grasshoppers and wrong turns!

Someone pointed out to me that STRESSED backwards spells desserts. Hmm. Maybe that's why I'm craving ice cream. I have been really stressed out lately! I know that I should relax. I do plan to start doing yoga again soon. Maybe that will help. I need to find my "Zen" again. I wish I didn't let things get to me. I wish I was one of those people so laid back about everything. Just go with the flow. Take it as it comes. I'm a little high strung (it's hereditary.) I can only relax when everything is perfect and everything goes right. Now how often does that actually happen?!

Car trips are often stressful with the baby. I never know if she's going to scream or for how long. I worry about the position of the sun (because even with the screens covering the back windows, sometimes there is full sun on her face and it drives me crazy! I wind up dislocating my shoulder reaching to the backseat to hold up a piece of paper to shade her little face. Have to be especially careful with my sensitive little red haired girl.) I worry if she's going to poo (because she goes so often and as I've learned the hard way a few times now, trying to change her in the car is beyond awkward. It's just short of impossible. And God help you if you don't change her because she will scream bloody murder the entire way until your ears are bleeding and your head explodes. If you happen to be on the highway and can't pull over, you're S.O.L.) or cry for some other reason. I worry that she'll wail the whole time or wait for a really embarassing moment like when I'm at the drive-thru window. Every time I put the keys in the ignition I cross my fingers and hope I get lucky.

It was my brother's birthday celebration, so I set out in the car with Michelle, hoping for the best. At least now I have my trusty soother to help out during the trip. (I have gone from being opposed to the pacifier to absolutely loving it! It really helps to calm Michelle down, keeps her from crying, actually seems to help her fall asleep and so is my magic talisman when we're out and about.) The only problem is that of course it doesn't always stay in her mouth and she cries when it drops. So I pulled over three times during the trip to give it back to her. Then there's the sunlight. For some reason on this particular drive, the sun was on her face no matter which way we went, even when the road curved. It seemed to be coming from all directions. I was afraid she'd get a sunburn. I guess I don't have to worry that she only swallows about half the vitamin D drops when I try to give them to her. She's getting vitamin D whenever we take a drive thanks to the useless screens I got for the windows. I guess I need to install full curtains or black out the windows or something.

At least we made it there for the birthday party but being at my Mom's is stressful in itself. My mother's house is a little crowded to say the least, never mind when there are nearly 20 people there. She had cleared out the family room to make some space but my nephew James and one of my brother's friend's kids were playing with toy cars and had taken up the entire floor. I needed to feed Michelle and my Mom didn't have a private room I could go to. So to get to the couch I had to carefully tiptoe like a Mommy Godzilla through a little village filled with hundreds of toy cars, trying not to slip and drop the baby.

I don't feel comfortable breastfeeding in public. I don't mind as much if I'm just around women but I just can't do it in front of boys. Family or not. I had pumped breastmilk in a bottle but it wasn't enough to do all day so I had to breastfeed her at least once while I was there. My Mom said "Save the bottle for when we're having dinner so I can feed her while you're eating." I put a big scarf over Michelle and I (and it was a hundred degrees under the thing!) for privacy and tried to feed Michelle. It was very uncomfortable. At home I have my nursing pillow when I'm sitting up or I feed her lying down in bed. Trying to feed her on the couch with no pillow and trying to stay hidden from two little boys playing with cars by my feet was not easy. I knew that James was aware of breastfeeding (he had precociously made the comment while I was pregnant that a baby was going to be a lot of work and that I'd have to feed her from my boobs!) but I really didn't want to expose myself to him. Using the nipple shield (which I continue to use and couldn't live without! The first week trying to feed her with my bare nipples left me bleeding and bruised! I'm never going back to that!) makes it that much more awkward especially when you're trying to stay hidden. Michelle and I both wound up soaked. (When she's not on a proper pillow she's a sloppy eater and the milk tends to drip down the two of us.)

Michelle is sometimes fussy, sometimes good. And you never know how it's going to go. Usually the soother will placate her at least but it doesn't always work. She was probably cranky because she didn't get to have much of a nap. She closed her eyes for a few minutes here and there but wouldn't stay asleep. Even if there were room for her to lie down, the TV blasting (we couldn't find the remote to turn down the volume) and the boys playing in the room probably would have disturbed her. At least my sister in law took her for a while which gave my arms a break. Barb was excited to hold her. "She's so small! You forget how small they were!" Barb's youngest is a toddler. She isn't planning to have any more. Holding Michelle almost made her want another. Hearing Michelle cry almost non-stop probably nipped that in the bud.

I had the bottle of breast milk to give Michelle at dinner which she consumed in seconds (120 ml should be plenty. I can't believe how much she can drink/eat!) and then proceeded to cry while I tried to scarf down my dinner. My brother in law joked "This would be a good commercial for Advil!" It's funny because I remember so many get-togethers in the past where my siblings' kids were crying, screaming. Arguing over toys. Crying because they fell. Sometimes it could get pretty loud, especially with a couple of them going at once. I never suspected that one day it would be MY baby who would be crying. Having a child seemed beyond the realm of possibility. Now it's my reality.

My brother in law asked if maybe she was hungry or needed to be changed. "No," I explained, "She's just been fed, burped and changed. She's just a redhead! Mom says I was a nightmare too."
Even little James asked "What's wrong with the baby?"
"She's a baby!" I answered. Babies cry. It's their only form of communication. (Well other than the occasional coo or goo and a little laugh.)

The sound of the baby crying, along with all the other noise and commotion of the family was a bit overwhelming. I wondered what Christmas would be like when an even bigger gang (all of us) will be there. Of course by then Michelle will be 5 months old and hopefully much better behaved. She may even be talking. (I can dream. She has said "Hi" more than ten times now which to me makes it more than a fluke or accident. So who knows? A few times when she was crying it sounded like she said "Mama" even when she was first born. OK that probably was just a fluke...)

Get-togethers with the family are a little different with the baby. Everyone was hanging out in the backyard. Usually I would have been out there with them. We went out briefly but then I had to go in to feed Michelle and after feeding her we were both damp with milk and it was too cold to go out. So I barely had a visit with anyone other than the boys and their cars in the family room. Then even when everyone came in I missed my brother opening his gifts because I had to change Michelle who was screaming (again). I tried to get a group photo of us but there really isn't anywhere to set up the camera at my Mom's. My camera has a self-timer so I'm usually able to get all of us in a shot. Unfortunately on this occasion I couldn't fit everyone in and the baby was crying. It was one of the worst pictures ever. At least Michelle settled down for a few minutes and we were able to get a couple of photos.

By the end of the day I was physically and emotionally exhausted and anxious to get home. Little did I know what lay in store for me...

The baby was screaming. She wouldn't even keep the soother in her mouth a second so I thought something is definitely wrong. I was on empty anyway (of course) so when I stopped to fill up at the gas station, I took her out of her seat to change her diaper (as nightmarish as it is to do so in the backseat of the car.) Sure enough she'd had another HUGE poo (why she couldn't have done this five minutes earlier before we left my Mom's, I don't know. Timing is everything! She usually has at least three really big poos a day but you never know exactly when they'll happen.) So at least she was changed and happy. Unfortunately it seems that while I had the car door open, we picked up a hitchhiker...

I was driving along when I suddenly saw a grasshopper spreadeagle, legs splayed across the windshield. Inside the car! Normally I'm not afraid of grasshoppers but I'm not a big fan of insects flying at my face when I'm trying to drive. I have had insects -- spiders, wasps, mosquitos -- in the car before, long before I had the baby and it was never pretty. It usually involved me screaming and swerving and nearly crashing to my death. I'm a little more cautious now with the baby and knew I'd have to try to restrain my natural instinct to scream and flail like a madwoman, possibly killing us both. I didn't know if the grasshopper might jump or fly or fall on me but he kept slowly inching up the windshield until he was at my eye level. I can't describe how hard it is to keep your eyes on the road when you're whiteknuckled staring at a grasshopper praying that he doesn't jump at your eye. I had to get him out. I just didn't know how. I didn't want to squish him. It made my skin crawl just thinking about it. Then I remembered my friend had given me this handy little diaper bag dispenser for my purse. I could catch him in a bag and let him outside. I finally went for it. It was terrifying but I managed to catch him in the bag and let him out the window. Logically he probably died anyway. If the impact didn't kill him, then a passing car would but in the scheme of things I figured the lives of my baby and I were slightly more important! One disaster had been averted but there was still another in store for me...

The route that I used to take home hasn't been possible for months thanks to an annoying road closure due to a never-ending construction mess (on the main road that I took 50% of the way) so I had an alternate route. Then to my horror as I was heading home I saw that the infuriating construction disease had spread even to my alternate route. It was closed. Great. It was pitch dark out. My night vision isn't great to start with. I thought I had figured out another way home. Turns out the road that I thought I was on was something else entirely. Before I knew it, I was lost. Really lost. Nothing was familiar. I was in the middle of nowhere. There were no lights. I turned from one street to another hoping something would take me somewhere. I didn't even know what direction I was going. North, south, east, west? I hadn't a clue. For all I knew I was going in the opposite direction to where I should be heading. Everything was "Sideroad" this and that. You know you're in the country when they don't even call it a road or a street, just a sideroad. Sure enough, now I was on a dirt road! It wasn't even PAVED. Thankfully Michelle was still asleep through all this but I started to panic. "OMG. She's going to wake up and be starving because I should have been home with her an hour ago to feed her. I don't even know where we are! How will we ever get home?!" I started to pray "Please God help me get home! Soon!"

Now most people have modern gadgets like cellphones and GPS. I don't. I refused to get a cellphone. Yes I think I'm the last person left in North America over the age of 10 that doesn't have one! There are times I wish I had one for an emergency but with money tighter than ever as a single Mom it's not really in the budget. Anyway, so I had nothing to help me find my way and no way of calling for help. I started looking for any lights or signs of life but it was just blackest pitch as far as the eye could see. I was getting more and more nervous. I didn't know what to do.

Finally I saw a house with a light on. Part of me worried that this was just too much like those horror movie scenes where some poor unsuspecting schlep is lost in the middle of nowhere and stops somewhere to ask for directions (or runs out of gas -- at least I had gas) and happens upon a family of inbred cannibals. I was hoping that wouldn't happen! I nervously approached the wooden door and a man came to greet me before I knocked. Thank Heaven he was NICE (and not a murderer/cannibal!)

"I'm so sorry to bother you," I said "but I'm really lost and I have a 2 month old baby in the car..."
He kindly gave me directions and even drew me a map. I was so relieved and grateful. I should have asked him how long I was going to be on each of the roads though because it took so long for me to find the main road that I started to worry I'd passed it. I didn't know how much longer to keep driving. When I finally got to a sign and to signs of civilization I was so happy I wanted to scream "Woo hoo!" but was trying to stay quiet for Michelle who was miraculously still asleep. She didn't wake up until we were nearly home and she started to scream. Poor girl was starving by now. Of course (because we hadn't been through enough already) I got stuck behind some idiot on the one lane road going as slow as molasses. I kept trying to comfort Michelle "It's OK baby. We're almost home! We'd be home by now if it wasn't for this IDIOT in our way!" Of course I was an idiot too. I'd gotten us lost in the first place.

I was ecstatic when we finally made it home. I was like Dorothy in her ruby slippers saying "There's no place like home!" Michelle fed voraciously. It felt so good to be home safe and sound that I swore I wasn't going to leave the house the next day and we didn't. We had a nice peaceful day in our pjs and Michelle was quite mellow and content (probably exhausted from the day before.)

There was still something else coming up to stress about -- I had to take Michelle for her 8 week shots. Needles had always caused me anxiety. The idea of my innocent little baby having to go through it was far worse than if it were happening to me. To make matters worse I'd even read about immunizations in "What to Expect in the First Year." Now don't get me wrong. It's a great book. I like that it's so thorough that it warns you about absolutely everything that could possibly happen. The problem with this (much like "What to Expect When You're Expecting" some sections of which gave me nightmares) is that if you're a worrier and you read about all these negative, horrific things that "might" possibly happen, it's a recipe for anxiety. So when I read that the shots could cause a rash, fever, hours of screaming and in very rare cases, even DEATH I was petrified. Of course the book said that the benefits far outweighed the risks. I hoped Michelle would be OK. I was worried enough about her crying at the needle never mind her having a bad and possibly fatal reaction! After cutting her thumb accidentally when I did her nails I wondered if she'd keep bleeding after the needle.

My Mom came with me for moral support. First they gave Michelle a Rotavirus vaccine which consisted of drops (if drops are an option why use needles at all?!) Then they gave her two needles, one in each thigh, one for Diptheria, Tetanus, Polio, Pertussis and HiB. The other for "Prevnar 13." I'm not very familiar with any of the infections/illnesses. I guess because we've been immunized against them for so long they're not really around anymore. Michelle cried and it was a heartbreaking cry of shock and pain. I comforted her. I had tears in my eyes myself. Poor little thing must have wondered what the heck was going on. At least she didn't bleed much. They didn't even put bandages on her. We stuck around for a bit to see if there was any allergic reaction (rash or anything) but she seemed fine. She calmed down eventually. The doctor gave me some infant tylenol just in case but she didn't need it. She wasn't any fussier than normal and you could barely see the tiny dots where the shots had been. I had worried for nothing. I was so relieved. Unfortunately we have to go through this over and over again. Apparently she has to get more needles at 4 months, 6, 12, 15 and 18 months. Then at 4 years, 12 years, 13 years and 14 years. Gheesh. I don't remember getting so many shots as a kid. I thought it was just one booster shot once in your life and you're done.

Even when I don't have anything immediate to worry about, my Mom will call up and try to give me something new to stress over. The latest was her phoning to warn me that there is arsenic in rice. She heard it on the news so it must be true. There's never anything happy on the news so I avoid watching it but I get to hear tidbits from my mother. I'm never sure if she got the story quite right. (Like when she told me that eating eggs is as bad as smoking cigarettes. Not quite right. Apparently eggs -- cholesterol anyway -- and cigarettes can both contribute to heart disease but I'd prefer the eggs.) Some foods I might be willing to give up (broccoli for instance) but I love rice. I eat it almost every day. I was pretty sure that if all rice was poisonous they might make more of an effort to warn people about it, like drawing a big skull and crossbones on the front of the bag or something. Then again it took them a while to let people know that cigarettes would kill them and even that doesn't stop the smokers out there. I don't know much about arsenic. I remember hearing about a play called "Arsenic and Old Lace" about a couple of psychotic old ladies poisoning people. Anyway, I Googled the rice arsenic thing just to see what Mom was on about. It turns out that there is actually arsenic in air, water and soil. Consequently it ends up in many foods, not just rice. Organic arsenic isn't so bad. But there is also inorganic arsenic (in the form of pesticides and insecticides which wind up on fruits and vegetables.) So while the focus was on rice recently for some reason, apparently there is arsenic in apple juice too (which is fine because I HATE apple juice! My Mom turned me against it because she used to always put it in my thermos and made it smell like apple juice. Even when she started giving me milk in the thermos it still tasted like apple juice. Awful.) Anyway, I'm a big fan of rice, especially Uncle Ben's Express Basmati Rice -- my fave. From what I read online there are only trace amounts, not enough to kill you, so I don't think I'll change my diet too much. The weird thing is that I read the FDA really doesn't have any standards for levels of arsenic. So technically all our food could be poisoned with toxic levels of arsenic and they wouldn't have a problem with it? I don't get it. I'm going to try not to worry about it. Apparently everything is bad for you in some way, even things that are good for you. You can't stop eating everything. Fish is brain food but might have mercury in it. Fruits and vegetables are healthy but might be poisoned with insecticides. My Mom said that when I start giving the baby food, not to give her rice cereal, just in case. I rolled my eyes. I won't give her apple juice either.

My Mother was always a worrier and she's passed a lot of her worrying tendencies on to me. As much as I swore I would never become my mother, sometimes I catch myself doing it. I don't want to turn Michelle into a nervous wreck so I do want to try to relax. I don't want her to think the world is a scary place (even though sometimes it is.) Overall it is a beautiful place, full of magic and wonder. The good things are what we need to focus on. And sometimes it's just your perspective. I remember one boyfriend that I dated could put a positive spin on anything. Even when he got lost while driving he would smile and say "It's an adventure!" He would have loved the grasshopper thing. Maybe I need to work on my sense of whimsy. You can't wait for life to be perfect. You just have to smile at the imperfections. Attitude is everything.

I can't believe Michelle is two months old already. The doctor said she looks very healthy and she weighs 11 lbs 6 ounces now. I figured she had to be over 11 pounds by now (judging by how much it hurts my wrists, arms and back carrying her!) Time is flying by. I am so grateful that she is in my life. Even when it's stressful. Even when she's difficult. The moments when she's happy, when she smiles or coos at me make it all worthwhile.

I just need to lighten up. I need to learn to laugh at life's (and my) foibles. The key to overcoming stress is keeping your sense of humour. I usually find mine after the fact. I can laugh about it later when I recall these things. It's just finding my humour in the moment that proves difficult. I have to remember that nothing is that serious. Nothing is the end of the world. Almost everything becomes an amusing anecdote eventually. As Charlie Chaplin said "Life is a tragedy when seen in close-up but a comedy in long-shot."

White Noise

Recently I discovered that I have a helper to soothe and entertain the baby for a few minutes while I run to the bathroom, grab a bite to eat, etc. His name is Dyson. He's a vacuum! (He's a great vacuum too by the way!)

I had heard that babies love white noise because it reminds them of being in the womb and makes them feel safe. When I vacuumed with Michelle in my arms, she fell asleep pretty quickly. Unfortunately she would wake up as soon as I put her down and turned the vacuum off. It took me a while before I got the idea to leave the vacuum running for a few minutes after I lay her down so that she's asleep or at least content for a bit anyway with the white noise. It worked! Even when she woke up, the sound of the vacuum was enough to pacify her so she didn't scream. Sometimes I have to go to the washroom urgently and there's no one to hand her off to so Dyson has stepped in as a temporary babysitter! (Sometimes I had to go to the toilet so badly but was holding it in because of the baby and causing damage in my colon/rectum -- wrecked him? Darn near killed him! My doctor said it's better to let the baby cry while I go for a poop than to end up in the hospital getting colo-rectal surgery! Who would watch baby then? I've had some constipation and bleeding because of holding it in too long. And this is WAY TOO MUCH INFO! Sorry. But it just goes to show you the lengths I go to for the baby! Stupid I know! The doctor says it's OK to let her cry for a few minutes. The world won't end. It won't hurt her. I just feel so guilty. I have to stop that. I try to take care of the baby as best I can but I have to remember sometimes to take care of me because if something happens to me I'll be no use to the baby anyway!)

It takes me hours to settle her down with my dancing, rocking and lullabies. Dyson only seems to take a few minutes to calm her. I'm not sure if it's because she likes the sound or because it's so loud she can't compete with it but it stops her from crying most times. At least the house is clean with all this vacuuming! I hope it doesn't hurt the vacuum using it so much. They need to make a CD of vacuum noises! While they're at it they can invent a machine that simulates the motion of a car. She likes her swing as well but doesn't stay quiet in it too long. Nothing beats the car for a nice long nap but with gas prices these days you don't want to go driving around too far. And the red lights are a killer!

Even the car isn't always a safe bet though. If she poops while you're enroute somewhere, you're in trouble. We were barely driving 10 minutes when all of sudden she started wailing. At least I wasn't on the highway yet so I pulled into a gas station and parked to change her diaper (which is VERY awkward in a car, I would quickly discover). At least she settled down after that, thank heaven. Speaking from experience (a nightmarish excursion recently) a long drive with a screaming baby is NOT pretty. At one point I had to just stick balls of Kleenex in my ears because my headache was so bad her screams were like knives plunging into my eyebrows. Being in an enclosed space for any length of time with a shrieking infant is perhaps the most stressful experience one can have. I would suggest it as an instrument of torture if they ever bring back that sort of thing (as opposed to the rack, water torture etc.) She likes the motion of the car but when it stops (at every red light, construction site etc) she starts to cry. She likes the sound of crinkling foil (more white noise) so my Mom gave me a piece for in the car to scrunch at each red light. It stops her crying for a couple of seconds anyway. Other popular noises include the bathroom or kitchen fan, running water (especially the bath -- I once ran a bath just to soothe her. I actually got to get in the bath but not until hours later. The water wasn't that warm anymore but I still enjoyed it.) You do what you can. She also loves music but especially loves to be danced around to it. There is no substitute for being carried around. I like to make her happy but it is really hard on my wrists, arms, neck and back after several hours/days of it!

Had a nice visit with my Mom and sister and they gave my arms a break by holding/carrying Michelle around for a while. She fell asleep in Mom's arms a few times. Mom said that she walked the floor with me all day when I was a baby. I didn't like to be put down for a second. I didn't sleep at night either. So I guess I should be thankful that at least Michelle does sleep at night. (Eventually! Even though sometimes it takes quite a while and quite a few lullabies to settle her down.)

People ask if she's settled into a routine. Not really. Each day is different. There doesn't seem to be any rhyme or reason to why she's more or less cooperative on any given day. It's sort of luck of the draw. Though she has her moments (good and bad) on any given day. In general she seems to feed every 2 hours during the daylight and every 3 hours (sometimes 4 when I'm lucky) through the night. At least she sleeps at night. Through the day her naps are pretty erratic (ranging from one minute to one hour) and sometimes non-existent. I've told her that babies are supposed to need a lot of sleep but she doesn't seem to agree. She's a very light sleeper --so sensitive to every little sensation that she awakens and cries if there is a slight noise other than white noise, if she hiccups, if she has a speck of wet or dirty in her diaper, ANYTHING!

Sometimes you get lucky. Michelle actually let me go shopping at the kid's store the other day! She had fallen asleep in the carseat and stayed asleep initially in the stroller. Then she woke up but remained quiet, wide-eyed and curious about all the colourful clothes in the store. I was so pleased! I got her a few clothes for the Fall. Surprisingly one of the sweaters I got, sized 6 months, barely fit her once I tried it on her at home! The sleeve barely went over her little fist. There seems to be a big difference in how manufacturers size baby clothes. So it's hard to know. Some six month outfits are huge, others are tiny. She's growing like a weed so it's hard to know what to do. I had a lot of cute summer outfits in 12 month size thinking she'd be a year old next summer so it made sense but at the rate she's going she may be fitting 12 month clothes at 6 months in the middle of winter! I also picked up some colourful bows on sale. Yes I know she doesn't have a lot of hair but I still think it's cute on her!

Mom says it will get a little easier at least when she becomes interested in toys and there are more things to amuse her. I can't wait to be able to play with her. I've tried showing her toys but she doesn't get it at this stage. I'm her only toy! And like the energizer bunny I have to keep going and going and going!

I try putting her on her ocean-themed play gym but she doesn't have much interest yet. Though she does occasionally swat the dangling toys with rattles and rings, it's most likely by accident as she's constantly got her little fists and feet going. She was very active even before she was born, constantly punching and kicking me from the inside. Now she does it from the outside. She's rarely ever still. I remember even when I was at my doctor's appointments and at the ultrasounds she was kicking every time. And when I try to change her diaper, she scrunches her legs up making it nearly impossible to get the diaper off. That's probably the sort of move she was pulling when I had my 19 week ultrasound so we couldn't tell whether she was a girl. I was so thrilled when I finally knew for sure. I wanted a little girl so badly, even though I knew girls were higher maintenance (in her case, VERY high maintenance!)

Every time I see her smile I'm just overwhelmed by her sweetness, her innocence. I have to be careful because with my hormones surging sometimes I'm so sentimental, I love her so much that I almost start to cry. One time I did tear up and said "I love you so much." Seeing the tears in my eyes made her tear up and her lip quiver. I don't want to upset her so I have to be strong during those moments. She wouldn't understand yet about tears of joy. Her tears are always because she wants something -- she's hungry, she needs changing or, as seems to be the case most often, she's overtired and cranky and wants to be lulled to sleep. If it's anything else, I wouldn't know and it must be frustrating for her not to be able to say. I can't wait until she can talk and tell me what she wants without me having to guess. Although I know that will bring its own challenges! Something tells me she'll be rather demanding, and none too pleased if/when her demands aren't met. I'll do my best to make her happy without spoiling her too much. I wanted a little princess but I don't want to create a monster.

There are so many milestones coming up -- being able to hold her head up, to sit up, to laugh, to talk, to play, to stand and walk. It's amazing to me. Absolutely mind-boggling how much a little human being learns in the first year. She may not remember these early months, not consciously anyway. She won't remember the countless hours I spent feeding her, carrying her, singing to her, dancing with her but on some level I'm hoping that it helps her to feel safe, to feel loved and helps her to develop into a happy, healthy little girl. I know that the early years are crucial in our development, that they set the stage for the rest of our lives, shaping the people that we become. I want to do the best for her. And I'll do whatever it takes. Sometimes I may just have to lighten up and not worry so much!

Kicking and Screaming

I didn't get an easy baby. I've heard people brag (and seen the children to know they're telling the truth) about how their babies sleep through the night and never cry. I didn't get one of those. I got a difficult, extremely high maintenance baby. She kicks. She screams. She was kicking before she was even born. All the time during the last several months of pregnancy. Her little legs are constantly going when I try to change or dress her, which makes the tasks close to impossible. She screams when she's hungry, wet/dirty, tired, bored and just for the heck of it. I guess it's to be expected. Admittedly I'm pretty high maintenance myself. Her father was the neediest person on the planet (until I met Michelle -- but she is an innocent baby after all. He was a 32 year old man and far from innocent...) So maybe it's inherited. Mom says I was a difficult baby. I met a woman who said she had a redhaired daughter who kicked her non-stop in utero (like Michelle did with me), screamed as a baby (you try to put her down for a nap and she screams five minutes later, yeah sounds familiar) and was very high maintenance but who was also very bright, very advanced at every stage, talking early etc. So maybe it is a redhead thing to be fiery, fiesty, fussy, but clever. Redheads are unique. I am happy with my little ginger baby. It's just not easy!

I've been reading "What to Expect When You're Expecting" and they claim that newborns sleep most of the time, that a lot of parents complain that the child is only awake a couple of hours a day. They need to add the phrase "unless you have a female redhead. Then she'll almost never sleep! Good luck to you!" Even in the very beginning Michelle barely slept. She constantly needed to be fed, changed and given attention. So clearly Michelle is not a typical, ordinary baby. No one could expect this. Except of course my Mom who said that I was a fussy baby and apparently Nana said my mother was too. We are overly sensitive. We don't like to be hungry, or messy or tired. We like things to be just so and we are pretty vocal about it if they're not. We need to express ourselves. Until she can talk, crying is her only form of communication. So she's just letting me know.

It is a challenge but I try to look at the bright side. For one thing, she's helping me lose weight. She's like my own little ruthless personal trainer. She doesn't let me rest. I can't sit down. Can't stay still. She makes me dance around and carry her constantly. 11 pounds doesn't sound like a lot until you're holding it in your arms all day long. My back and arms aching. But she cries if I put her down. She also keeps me on a strict diet. She barely lets me eat. If I try to buy food, order food or cook food, she cries. And God forbid I try to go to the drive thru! No fast food for me! It still isn't fast enough for Michelle. She's also helping me to save money because she doesn't let me go shopping. I tried going to the mall. I parked at Sears and went in. I made it as far as the baby section and she started to scream. (She can't even let me shop for her!) I had committed the crime of stopping for a moment. Michelle won't have that. She only likes the stroller (and the car) when it's moving. Heaven help you if you stop. She continued to cry on the way home and of course I hit Every. Single. Red. Light!

I forgive her though. I adore her. And there are moments when she doesn't cry. When she's nursing. When she's content in my arms. When she's just alert and happy. When she looks up at me and smiles. Sometimes she almost laughs. When she makes silly faces and does funny things with her hands. When she sleeps like an angel. (Those rare times she does.) When she tries to talk and makes adorable little cooing noises. She actually said her first word already. She said "Hi" quite clearly. I thought it might have been a fluke but she said it again and even held up her hand as though waving "Hi." I wish I had it recorded because no one would ever believe me. Hopefully she does it again when I have witnesses!

I had a nice visit with my Mom the other day. She agreed to watch Michelle while I went to an appointment. She wanted to go to a grocery store nearby with Michelle in the stroller.

"Are you sure you're up for that?!" I asked incredulously. I had warned her how ugly a trip through a grocery store can be. Mom decided to brave it anyway. Maybe she'd be lucky and Michelle would be good for her. When I went to find them I saw Mom, holding Michelle in her arms, feeding her a bottle in the middle of the store. I smiled. It was cute. It had only been an hour since her last feeding but she had started to fuss in the store and my Mom couldn't settle her down. Luckily I had given Mom a bottle of my breast milk just in case. I guess I should start pumping more and have a bottle on hand when I go out as well. I don't feel comfortable breastfeeding in public. Especially with my nipple shield. It would be rather awkward. Even when she's just had a feeding and shouldn't be hungry for a while, you just never know when she's going to fuss and only milk will console her. Someone asked if I had a soother for her. "Just me," I replied, "I'm her soother." A 5'7" walking nipple. I was against the idea initially but I may weaken one of these days and get a pacifier (to pacify her!) if I get desperate enough. Sometimes you think you'd try anything if it would work. I just don't want to interfere with her breastfeeding, as I've heard that a soother can. Sometimes she may not be hungry but just want comfort. It's hard to say.

At least the milk is free but I'm spending a lot on diapers and wipes. I go through an insane amount. I can't believe so much waste can come out of one little person! She eats a lot though. During the day it seems to be every 2 hours or less. She's 5 weeks old and already wearing 3 month old clothes. Even some of those are a little snug on her. I guess I'll be into the 3-6M outfits next. Recently, I met someone with a 7 week old and he was half the size of Michelle at 5 weeks. He looked like a newborn. Much smaller than Michelle was at birth. Mind you he was only 5 lbs when he was born. She is a big girl. I've already reorganized her dresser, removing all the 0-3 clothes that she's outgrown and moving everything up one drawer. She's going through clothes so fast. I'm wishing I'd gotten more things in bigger sizes. And she doesn't seem to like sleepers with feet. She kicks so much she ends up getting her foot caught in the leg and she must be tall/long even for the 3M size because they seem too short/snug on her legs.

Time is really flying. I can't believe we're into September already. Next month it will be Halloween. She's too young to go out anyway and I have to give out treats for the kids. I guess when I start bringing her out I'll have to go early and try to be back to give out treats at the door. I don't want to be one of those houses in darkness when the kids come around but as a single parent what do you do about Halloween?! You can't be at the door and taking your child around too! In November is my Mom's birthday and anniversary. Not to mention the anniversary of the day I found out I was pregnant unexpectedly. I can't believe it's been almost a year already. Gone in a flash. Then we're into December -- Christmas! Baby's first Christmas! It's surreal. At least the whole family will be together this Christmas. I often have to work but have this year off obviously on maternity leave. My brother and his wife alternate years (one year with Barb's Mom and the next with our Mom). Last year it was Barb's turn so Mike couldn't be there on the 25th and I had to work anyway so we celebrated a fake Christmas on an alternate day. This year it's my Mom's turn and I'm off work so all of us will be there. Mom will be in her glory having all her kids and seven grandchildren together. It will be an adventure having the whole gang in one room! It will be a circus! Absolute chaos with so many kids running around. It will be the best Christmas ever though for me. My first Christmas with my baby.

I saw a commercial the other day that said something like "they're your children forever but they're only babies for the first year." It made me think. These days are precious. One day I will probably look back longingly and miss this time when she was so small (well, big for her age but still a tiny human!) I will forget the frustration, the exhaustion, the sleeplessness, the humiliation of a screaming baby in public. I will remember the joys of having my baby. Her tiny fingers and toes (I finally got up the nerve to cut her nails while she was sleeping. So relieved I managed it!)Snuggling with her at night. Having her fall asleep in my arms. Singing to her. Having her flash me one of those killer smiles. I am not taking any of it for granted. I am cherishing these moments. I am taking lots of pictures because I know they grow so fast (she is certainly growing fast!) 

I don't have an easy baby but I have a sweet, funny, extraordinary baby. I am blessed and I am going to enjoy it as long as it lasts. Even on the most difficult of days. Even when she's kicking and screaming. A year will fly by before I know it. 

One step forward. Two steps back.

Has it really been a month already? Time flies when you're having fun (and when you're stressed out of your mind!) Had some really rough days but we made it. It's hard to believe that 4 weeks ago I was in labour trying to push out my big girl (9 lbs 4 ounces). It was scary for both of us. That was just the start of our journey. We've been through a lot since then and yet it seems to have gone by in a flash somehow.

Michelle and I took it easy the other day. It was a grey, rainy day. The perfect sort of day to just stay in and do nothing (other than feeding, changing, caring for baby of course!) It was a relief to have the weather a little cooler. It got humid for a few days there. Without air conditioning it can get pretty warm, especially when you're breastfeeding and carrying around a 10 lb baby! Michelle was sleeping a lot better. Sometimes almost four hours (at least three) at a time through the night. I thought that maybe she'd turned a corner and that things were going to get easier from here on out... I thought wrong. She then started a new thing in the early evening where she just screams. She's not hungry. She doesn't need changing. She's just cranky and so you try EVERYTHING in your power to console her and nothing works. And you feel like you're going to lose your mind!

I was craving McD's one night and thought what the heck I might as well go for it. Michelle was fussy and I figured she'd fall asleep in the car (she usually does) on the way. So sure enough, she did fall asleep. Unfortunately she woke up and SCREAMED while I was in the drive-thru. I couldn't take it anymore so I just pulled out of line and left. When she still kept screaming, I barked at her (not my proudest moment but I was hungry and out of patience) -- "Fine! You got your way! We're going home! I didn't even get my Big Mac! Are you happy now?" and with that she stopped crying, closed her eyes and went to sleep. Sigh. Then we get home and she continues her tirade for a while. I couldn't take it anymore. Usually there's SOMETHING that will entertain her but I tried dancing, rocking, singing, shushing, the vacuum, everything. I didn't know what was wrong. I felt myself getting angry. I know she's just a baby but in that moment it felt like she was doing it on purpose to annoy me. It felt like I'd given up my whole life, body and soul for her and it still wasn't enough. She still didn't appreciate it. I finally said: "If you are going to keep crying no matter what I do, I'll just stop trying to do anything and leave you alone!" She stopped and looked at me for a moment as though processing what I'd said. There. She stopped crying. Woo hoo. Then she started right back up again. That's it. I had had it. So I put her in her crib and closed the door. I had read that when you're at the end of your rope and can't take it anymore just put the baby down and walk away. Take a breather because it can start to drive you mad. I had even read that frustrated parents have fleeting thoughts like wanting to throw the baby out the window (as long as you don't actually do it!) It's natural to feel annoyed with a screaming baby. It's probably the most stressful thing on the planet to deal with (it is by far the most stressful in my life and I had someone pull a gun on me once!) I felt so guilty for leaving her to cry, even just for a few minutes. I went back and her face was red and she was sweating. She had worked herself up into a frenzy. I started to cry. I couldn't take it anymore. I didn't know what to do. When I am able to meet her needs and calm her down it makes me feel good but when it seems like nothing I do works I feel so helpless and horrible I don't know what to do. But then it stops. She sleeps. She wakes up and smiles at me. It's like she's Jekyll and Hyde.

It's magical when she smiles. Michelle has started really looking at me now. She focuses on my face and I'm so happy when she looks into my eyes and smiles a big smile. Before it seemed like she was just staring into space and not focusing on anything in particular. But now she seems to recognize me and look happy to see me. It is the best feeling in the world to have my little girl smile at me. If only she could be like that all the time! But she's a baby. Babies cry. It's the only way they can communicate. She gets overtired and cranky. Sometimes she doesn't know what she wants. She can't tell me what's wrong. Is she too hot, too cold, does she have a tummy ache? Maybe she just needs constant stimulation. She likes variety. She loves to be in motion. She always falls asleep in the car and gets angry when the car stops moving. It's hard to stay in constant motion. I try to carry her around constantly but my arms get tired and my back aches. She's over 10 lbs now.

Sometimes she's an angel. She'll have a good day and sleep well and I can actually get things done. I finally had time to put the mobile up over the crib. I found a hook for the ceiling at Walmart. It was just a matter of having a few minutes to climb up and hang it! It's not as though Michelle sleeps in her crib yet anyway. I just like to have the (ocean themed) nursery complete. Michelle sleeps with me for the time being. Because I lie down to breastfeed at night it just makes the most sense to have her next to me. That way she can feed and we can both fall asleep then wake up and feed again. I know people who slept with their kids from the beginning. Before I had the baby I used to wonder how people did that. Wouldn't you roll over on the baby? But it's different once you have the baby. You have an instinct about it. I'm a light sleeper anyway. When I had told the nurse I had the baby in the bed with me I was afraid she was going to lecture me about how dangerous it was. She said that it's only in North America that people worry about it. In Europe and in China it's common for people to have their babies in bed with them. She said as long as I'm not obese, not a drinker or drug user that there's no danger of me rolling over and smothering the baby. I think we're safe!

Each day is different now. Some better than expected, some worse. I never know how she's going to be. I can only hope for the best and do my best. I am not in control of my life. She is. I must surrender to chaos. You can't reason with a baby or predict her behaviour. You just go with the flow. I just have to be grateful for the joyful, beautiful moments and survive the stressful, difficult times.

During the rough times I sometimes worry am I suffering from PPD (post partum depression)? No I'm not. It's always situational (the baby screaming) and temporary. Everyone has a few moments where they feel stressed, feel down, need a good cry. Even people who don't have children (never mind anyone who is raising a newborn alone!) If you are happy 95% of the time and suffer from stress/sadness 5% of the time, you are not depressed, you are a human being! Welcome to life. It's not always easy. I have exhaustion and hormones to contend with on top of physical depletion, sleep deprivation, the complete metamorphosis of every aspect of my life. It's a lot to take! Everything I'm going through is normal and natural. Occasionally I get overwhelmed. It doesn't make me a bad person or a bad mommy. I'm doing my best. I need to cut myself some slack. I don't have to be perfect. And maybe baby can cut me a little slack too. Maybe even let me get a Big Mac now and then...(I know they're not good for me but hey, Mama needs a treat once in a while!)

My Mom said I'm hard on myself because I'm a perfectionist and I always need to be the best at everything. She said maybe I'm trying to be the best Mom. I do feel pressured to do all the best things for Michelle but I am human and therefore fallible.

One night when I was having a really rough time I called my sister to talk me down off the ledge. She is always so supportive and reassuring. She helps me to put things in perspective. It will be OK. I will get through it. She reminded me of the phrase, that applies to almost everything in life, good and bad -- "This too shall pass." The crying always ends eventually and when it does you can truly appreciate the sweet sound of silence. I look at my baby when she's sleeping or when she's just looking around contentedly with her big blue eyes and I can forgive her for those terrible times. I adore her. And she doesn't mean to be so high maintenance. She gets frustrated that she can't communicate what's wrong. It would be hard to want to say something and not have the words to explain.



Me as a baby -- could almost be a picture of Michelle!



Mom still contends that there is a correlation between fussiness and intelligence because I was the worst baby ever but the smartest. "You never slept! I couldn't put you down. You screamed all night! You screamed the whole first year!" On the bright side, she said I was a genius. I was talking, walking, singing much sooner than I should have been. (She let me see my baby book where she had kept notes on my progress. I was walking at 7 months, talking at 8 months and toilet trained at 11 months.) There may be something to it. It stands to reason that smart babies need constant stimulation. Their minds are so active they are easily bored. They would be more eager to communicate. More particular about things (less willing to sit in their own feces -- Michelle screams the instant her diaper is wet or has a speck of poo. So I go through about 10-15+ diapers a day!) So I guess we'll see if Michelle turns into a child prodigy! People have made comments about her already recognizing faces and smiling which is unusual for a newborn. She also has quite a bit of control of her head already. She makes little sounds sometimes as though she's trying to talk but it will freak me out if she actually says anything. She grabs things with her hands quite a bit. Sometimes I think she's giving me the finger! She is able to hold her head up and turn to look at things. Or maybe the "fussy babies are smarter" thing is just a myth/a pipe dream that Moms use to console themselves that they have a screaming baby while other moms get to have a quiet one! Then again, if screaming is their only form of communication, I guess the fussier ones are more eager to communciate and so would probably be talking sooner. The laid back babies may not have much to say. The more sensitive ones who can't stand to be wet would be easier to toilet train (I was.) Maybe it's like type A and type B personalities. I was a type A and always a straight A student in school. It does seem that intelligent people in general are higher maintenance. Or maybe it's just Karma -- the screaming is my payback for what I put my Mom through as a baby! I didn't mean to. Then there is the fact that she's a redhead. There is a stereotype that gingers tend to be clever, sensitive, passionate, moody. It may not always be true but it applies to every redhead I've met. Myself included. So why should Michelle be any different?

A few people have mentioned "colic" as a possible explanation. I'm not even sure what it is but it seems to be the label they put on it when your baby just screams for seemingly no reason. I've heard horror stories of babies screaming for HOURS! That would be unbearable. To have your baby scream for a few minutes or half an hour at the most is bad enough. I heard of one woman who was at her wit's end so she just left the baby in his crib to scream and she went out to the car (where she couldn't hear it anymore) and wept. Sometimes you're at the end of your rope. You just need a breather. When there are two parents involved they can take turns walking the floor with the baby (though I've heard a lot of men don't pitch in to help with caregiving anyway, even if they are in the picture). When you're by yourself, there's no one to hand her off to. It's all you. 24-7. Obviously that can get exhausting!

I am trying to do all the right things. I'm not perfect. I'm not superhuman. Sometimes I do feel overwhelmed. I guess the best thing to do is to just take it one day at a time. It may get easier. It may get harder. Each day is different. I have to focus on the positive, the beautiful experiences of being a parent. Those moments are worth it. I have to just let the other stuff go.

My Mom also told me "Don't worry about the baby crying. It's exercise. It won't hurt her." But it seems like it hurts, at the time. I don't want her to be sad. I don't want her to feel like her needs won't be met. I want her to feel happy and safe and secure. I know for the most part that she does. Even after a particularly bad evening she still looks at me bright eyed the next day and flashes me a big smile. I know she's OK. We're OK.

As I type this, she is sleeping peacefully and she didn't do her weird moody thing tonight. So maybe it was just a phase that lasted a few days. Maybe it was just gas. Maybe I just shouldn't worry so much (tough habit to break. I get it from Mom.)

You just don't know what having a child is like until you have one. No one can prepare you. While I was still pregnant I imagined having the baby. I envisioned all the perfect Hallmark moments with her -- holding her, singing her to sleep, reading her bedtime stories, playing and laughing with her. I didn't picture exploding orange poo, screaming fits, spit-ups, stress and lack of sleep. But it's a package deal. You take the bad with the good. Life isn't a Hallmark card.

When you're getting married, they have you take a vow. To love, honour and cherish, in sickness and in health, for richer or poorer, for better or worse, as long as you live. A pretty tall order! Many people don't wind up keeping that vow. They find out it's more difficult than they expected. When the going gets tough, they get going. They get divorced. A child is a much bigger commitment than a marriage. No ceremony. No spoken vow but an unspoken promise that is binding. Forever. There is no escape hatch. No divorce. That child is yours for the rest of your days and you love them no matter what, even when it's hard, for better and for worse. Michelle is my life. I will keep my vow to love her no matter what. Love isn't easy. They make it look easy in movies and fairytales. They show you the happy ending. They don't show you all the nightmarish real life everyday moments in between. Love isn't perfect. Whether it's romantic love or the love of a child. It's not all smooth sailing. Sometimes it breaks your heart. Sometimes they drive you crazy. But you get through it. You don't give up. Because that's what love is. You keep going.

Amor vincit omnia. Love conquers all. Even colic, or whatever the heck it is.

The Mad Dash

I used to be a bit of a procrastinator. There isn't time now. I have a very small window of opportunity between feedings, changings and other assorted screamings. Anything that needs to be done has to be done NOW and quickly. I used to leave dishes to sit in the sink. Now they're loaded in the dishwasher immediately. I'm doing laundry every day now. Sometimes I have the luxury of running around to get things done while Michelle is asleep. Other days I have to do things while carrying her which is much more of a challenge. Sometimes I wish I could grow extra arms. Trying to eat cereal without dropping milk on her head. Answering the phone, doing housework. The hardest was loading the washing machine. Hard to reach in with her in my other arm. So you hope she falls asleep for a few moments and then you put her down and make a mad dash to get everything done.

Certain things I dreaded like putting the garbage out, I now realize can be done in under 5 minutes. You just run around as quickly as you can and get it over with. The baby has forced me to be fast and efficient because otherwise nothing would get done. And there's no one else to do it so I don't have a choice!

I never know when she nods off whether I'll have 10 minutes, or if I'm really lucky, an hour or more to get things accomplished. So I basically have to get everything done in 10 minutes or less, just in case. I've become quite adept at dashing through most things. It's a whole new sort of multi-tasking. Sometimes I get lucky and she gives me a reprieve. One night I actually got to take a BUBBLE BATH!!! This is like winning the lottery. I always loved bubble baths by candlelight. They were one of the few things that relaxed me while I was pregnant. When the baby was asleep I thought, I could eat something (I've lost 35 lbs already, without exercise other than a couple of walks because breastfeeding burns 500 calories and I'm lucky if I have time to consume 1000 calories a day) because I am pretty hungry, I could grab some sleep because I'm beyond exhausted, but what my soul really yearned for was a bubble bath. After delivering a more than 9 lb baby, obviously my body has been through a lot. I have been pretty sore "down there" after the episiotomy. I thought the bath would be soothing (it was HEAVEN) for body and soul. I knew that if worse came to worst, I'd just step in and baby would scream and that would be the end of it, in which case I'd just drain the water and walk away. But I said a little prayer for peace and she complied. I got to lay in the soothing bubbles for almost half an hour! It was a luxury I thought I'd never experience again.

And I needed soothing after my ordeal the day before...

The day started out well. I took Michelle to the doctor. She did start to fuss in the office but I managed to pacify her with a bottle of my pumped breast milk (I really don't feel comfortable breastfeeding in public so I have a bottle ready when I know I'll be out.) When the doctor checked her out she said Michelle is very healthy and she weighs 9 lbs 12 ounces now! It feels so good to know that she's eating well (as if the constant diaper changes weren't evidence enough!) and that I'm producing enough milk. I actually leak sometimes now and my breasts become engorged. Sometimes I pump the milk for extra relief but I've been told that that's like putting out a fire with gasoline because it's supply and demand, so the more I pump, the more my body will produce. In any event, after my first stressful week wondering if my milk would ever come in, I'm just happy that my cups runneth over!

The day took a dark turn when my Mom (who I'd been visiting after the doctor) suggested we run up to the store so she could buy a lottery ticket. I needed garbage bags anyway (and it was garbage night that night) so I thought what the heck. Baby seemed to be safely napping in the carseat. Of course you never know how long she'll stay asleep and when she may wake up screaming. I'd already experienced her screaming tantrums in a grocery store before and I sure didn't want another ugly episode. So Mom runs into the store and leaves me to haul the carseat into a cart myself. Fine. She's just trying to be quick. I go in and am pleased they actually sell blue bags there. I grab a couple more things quickly. Baby is still quiet. So far so good. Five minutes later, I'm ready to motor. I line up at the cash. That's when it all falls apart. Baby Michelle likes being on the move. As long as she's in a moving car, cart or stroller, she's soothed, entertained, lulled to sleep. When the motion stops, she goes ballistic. So as I'm trying to pay, she begins screaming like a banshee. "Dear God," I think, "not again." The line-up scream. I was sure the entire store, including my mother, would hear her. It's hard to miss a newborn having a meltdown. I couldn't get out of the store fast enough. I get to the car. Mom isn't there but is no doubt on her way. She was just buying a lottery ticket after all and she knows I have the baby (Mom was notorious for leaving you waiting when you would take her shopping, but surely she wouldn't do that now that I have a baby.) I start the car, hoping Mom will be here any second. She wasn't. The baby is still howling like a demon. I decide to circle the parking lot. Maybe if the car is in motion, she'll calm down. I kept passing the grocery store hoping Mom would be out any second. She wasn't. People exited. None of them her. I finally parked in front of the doors and started honking. I was about to run into the store screaming her name and thought better of it. How could she be so inconsiderate?! The baby was beside herself (almost purple now from screaming.) I was getting more stressed and more livid by the second. I circled around the parking lot again and almost got into an accident with some idiot pulling out too quickly and not looking. This was ridiculous.

You know how there are football minutes and dog years? I think there should be "baby screaming minutes." A minute with a screaming baby feels like 10 minutes. Ten minutes with a screaming baby feels like an hour. An hour with a screaming baby feels like a year. Enough was enough. I had endured at least 15 minutes of this Hell (it felt like 2 hours) and I was ready to kill someone. Namely my mother!

I pulled up in front of the store again and tried to look through the glass to see if I could see her cashing out at least. What on earth was she doing? I wanted to just leave her there. A delivery person with a pallet gave me a look. I pulled ahead to get out of his way. Then I saw an employee bringing a bunch of carts into the store. I asked him if he would please have someone page my mother. I gave him her name and said tell her to come out right now or I'm leaving, I have a newborn baby screaming and I can't wait for her anymore. He nodded but apparently completely ignored my request, went into the store and did nothing. I finally saw my mother at a cash register. I was FURIOUS. So when she got to the car, I was screaming. She screamed that she had been looking for me (Why wouldn't you go to the car?! As if I want to hang around inside a store with a screaming baby!!!) The parcels in her arms proved she'd gotten more than a lottery ticket. We yelled at each other for a bit. The baby finally stopped screaming (I guess she figured she couldn't compete with us) and fell asleep. After fighting with my mother I dropped her off and said I'm never taking her anywhere again.

She left a message on my machine that she was sorry for the misunderstanding. She had been looking for me in the store. Next time, run to the car!!!

Baby can scream. She screams when she's hungry (which is almost constantly for my voracious little vampire). She screams when she's dirty (eating constantly means she poos constantly too). She screams when she's tired. Which is most of the time because she doesn't get much sleep. It's tough. My Mom always told me that I screamed the whole first year. That I wouldn't sleep, wouldn't let her put me down all day long. I was moody, demanding and high maintenance. So I guess this is karma that I wind up with a little girl just as difficult as I was. My mother said that the trade-off was that I was brilliant. I was very advanced for my age. Walking, talking and potty-trained all well under a year. She said I was a "firecracker" because I was born on "firecracker day" (aka Victoria Day) and because of my red hair. Redheads can be moody. I'm the first to admit it. Now I have a little one on my hands. She's a real Drama Queen!

People ask me what's a good day/time to do things and I don't know how to answer. I don't know with the baby. I can't plan my day out and know how it will go. She calls the shots. She might sleep for a few minutes or (by some miracle occasionally) a few hours. But you race to do whatever you can as fast as you can while you can. And you hope that she doesn't scream. Especially when you're out in public. But so far she has made a scene almost every time we've gone out.

I went to the grocery store today because I was nearly out of milk. She screamed the entire time I was in the store. I had never moved so fast. I threw things in the cart. I threw them on the belt at the cash register. I was stressed beyond belief. Then there was the time she screamed at the drive thru so that they couldn't even hear me. She was screaming so much I thought I'd better check on her so I parked and went to the backseat to see if she'd had an exploding poo or something. Next thing I knew there was a hornet in the car. Great. So now I have a screaming baby and a hornet to deal with. Luckily he moved along when I opened the window. I guess he couldn't stand the screaming either.

It's hard to do anything now. Sometimes I get lucky and get an hour to myself. Other times baby won't even give me five minutes.

My friend came to visit (and brought pizza and lava cakes God bless her soul! Visitors Welcome! Please bring food! Mama is starving!) last night. I had to feed Michelle almost the whole time. And then there were the diaper changes. Then there were just the screams of overtiredness. My friend got to see the kind of stress I deal with on a daily basis. She suggested I try bottle feeding so I'm not so depleted breastfeeding all day, try a soother to quiet the baby. I am committed to breastfeeding and I don't believe in soothers (to me it's just sticking a plug in the baby's mouth and it may confuse her, interfere with her feeding.) She was thinking of my best interests. But I can only think of the baby's. Even if she's killing me. Sometimes I think I'll lose my mind.

The baby is all that matters. Some people say "Just let her cry." I can't. They say I'm spoiling her. I don't care. She is innocent, helpless. She needs me. I can't let her think that the world is a cruel place and her needs won't be met. I have to comfort her, reassure her, make her happy. Even if it destroys me in the process. That's my job as a Mom. To put her first.

I really had no clue what it was going to be like. My life has changed beyond recognition. I used to need 10 hours' sleep to function as a human. I never get anywhere close to that now. I'm lucky if I get 3. I remember before I had the baby that I told someone I would just sleep when the baby slept. It seemed to make sense at the time. I actually did grab a cat nap for a bit with her once but usually when the baby sleeps is when I have to do everything else. Laundry, cleaning, dishes, grabbing a bite, running to the bathroom, or when I'm really lucky, doing a bit of writing. I knew that the baby would consume most of my time but I didn't fully understand how completely she would take over my life. I thought that it was so difficult being pregnant. Now I see how easy I actually had it. I think about the days when I was able to go back to bed and sleep until the afternoon. Now I'm lucky if I get 3 hours' sleep in a day. Sometimes you don't know how you survive. But you do. You have a really bad day and then the next day is pretty good.

Sometimes I do feel depleted. The baby takes so much out of me emotionally and physically. On the positive side, breastfeeding and carrying around a nearly 10 lb baby has proven to be a good workout. I've lost over 35 lbs already. Just another 25 to go. My doctor cautioned me to be careful though. If I don't eat enough I may become very weak. I have had a couple of near fainting spells from lack of food and sleep. The baby literally is sucking the life out of me! She feeds on me all day and then doesn't let me eat or go to the store to buy food! 

There are good days. One day I went for a walk with Michelle in the stroller. It was a beautiful day, not too warm and with a slight breeze. She didn't start to fuss until I got home. It felt good to get out. Sometimes you can feel isolated when you're locked away feeding and changing and caring for a baby. Some days I wasn't able to get out of my pj's. A friend popped by unexpectedly and I answered the door with a zombie face and a milk-stained nightgown. Some days I just don't care. Vanity has gone out the window. There just isn't time. Sometimes I think maybe things are getting easier. Maybe baby is settling into more of a routine. Then I'll have another stressful nightmare day and I think I'm having a nervous breakdown (how can you tell if you are? Just out of curiosity...)

And just when I think I'm losing my mind and I can't take this anymore, the baby will be calm and angelic for a few moments. She'll look up at me with these curious big blue eyes and I love her so much that I know I can go through anything for her. She drives me crazy but I adore her. I look into her eyes and I melt. She smiles and it is the highlight of my life. Several times she has looked right into my eyes and smiled when I said "I love you!" or "Where's your smile?" Or she makes this little cooing noise. Just the thought of her being able to talk, to say "Mama" one day makes me tear up. It is worth it. If this is what I have to go through then so be it. Yes some days I feel like I'm going to crack when she's screaming and I feel like I'm going to collapse. I start to cry from a mixture of exhaustion, frustration and hormones. But somehow I survive it. I have to. And at least I'm always able to comfort her, eventually. Once I figure out what is wrong I can fix it. She's hungry and I feed her. She's wet/dirty and I change her. She's bored/tired and I entertain her/lull her to sleep by rocking, walking, dancing, singing, making strange noises, taking her for a drive, doing whatever I need to do!

When she is at peace, the world is a beautiful place. I watch her sleep and she is my little angel. I'm so grateful for those heavenly moments. They make up for the moments of sheer hell! I just wish she could be happy all the time. I can't bear to hear her cry.

Some people don't have it so hard. I met someone with such a quiet baby, she never seems to cry. She slept through the night right from the beginning. Other people tried to tell me newborns were so easy. They sleep most of the time. I guess it's luck of the draw. Just as no two pregnancies or labour stories are the same, no two babies are the same. No one can tell you what experience you're going to have.

She is an individual. There has never been another baby like her. I am blessed to have her. Even when it's not easy. Even when it's the hardest job in the world.

Writing about it helps somehow. Writing has always been a form of therapy for me. A way of sorting out my life, my feelings. I didn't know how I'd keep up with this blog. It's different now. I just type my thoughts when I have a moment, save it as a draft and post it when it's done. I don't have time to painstakingly proofread and edit anymore. I can't afford to be picky. I won't be able to write as often or as much as I did before but I can still share my thoughts and experiences. And I need to. Writing, like the bubble bath, is something I need, for me, to nurture my soul.

I'm a Mommy now and 99% of my time and energy goes to the baby, but I still need something for me so that I don't go crazy. I can't lose myself completely. I need these few moments for myself. It's hard when you're on your own and there's no one to watch the baby for a minute while you run to the bathroom or grab a shower but you just get creative. You learn to hold it until you have a moment. You learn to be grateful for the few seconds you can steal for yourself.

And I am grateful for my time with the baby. Even when it's rough. I wouldn't trade it for the world. This is love. Messy, complicated, joyous, painful. As Shakespeare said "The course of true love never did run smooth." She is my true love.