On a non-sick note, we've been joking that Ivan has become a milkaholic. He loves his milk. Loves to go to sleep with his milk. When he sees a bottle of milk, it's "ah, ah, ah....." give me the bottle.
He stopped nursing about a week ago. The last time I tried to get him to nurse was after his bath when he was getting cranky, which until a few weeks ago, was the prime nursing time -- as soon as he'd get out of the tub, he'd want to nurse to calm down even before I could dry him, diaper and dress him. This last time, I showed him the boob and he just looked at me like "what am I supposed to do with that." After that I tried a few times to nurse he while he was asleep but crying, which used to be the times he'd want to nurse. But these last few times, he'd turn away from the boob (while still asleep).
But now at bed time, after we get dressed in our jammies and try to read books, I can't have him see a bottle of milk because he desperately wants it and stops being interested in anything else. I used to resist it, ie not show it to him, until we were done reading, but now I've changed my tactics.
I'm letting him drink the milk, while he's in my lap. While he's not nursing any more, holding him while he's drinking milk and getting all sleepy and drowsy provides the same type of closeness we had while he was nursing. And that's what I really miss. Especially now when it's hard to get him to cuddle or sit still -- there is always something to crawl toward.
My goal is to wean him off going to bed with a bottle of milk but to drink the entire bottle while in my lap before I put him to bed. I need to start brushing his teeth after drinking milk anyway. He used to be able to go to bed without anything and lull himself to sleep, but somehow my parents introduced milk-to-bed scenario a few months ago and now it has become the norm. (When I asked them why, they reminded me that it was because I was freaking out that he wasn't drinking the minimum of 20 oz of formula/milk that everyone said he needed to get)
My baby all growing up.
Thursday, February 28, 2008
Wednesday, February 27, 2008
Getting Nebulized -- our ER weekend
Late last week, Mr. Meh got sick with a cold. It was bound to happen. We made it just past 1 year mark without any, absolutely any sicknesses. We must have gloated about it too much and jinxed ourselves. Or maybe it was because Andy and I have had awful colds for the last month. He was bound to get it, especially once he stopped nursing last week (much to my dismay).
The runny nose and cough started last Thursday. We stayed home with him on Friday. (The weather was also awful, freezing rain so the fed government had optional leave policy in effect and UMCP opened late.) We tried sucking out the snot from his nose, but he wouldn't let us get anywhere near his nose with that little suction device.
On Saturday, Andy thought he heard him wheeze. Then I thought I heard him wheeze too. And while Andy was out buying a humidifier for his room to help with the cold, I called the doctor.
"Is the breathing on the inbreath, or outbreath?"
"I don't know. It's hard to tell."
"Well, if it's on the inbreath, then it's croup and there is nothing you can do about it. It will progressively get worse for three nights, before it gets better. Humidier is all you can do."
"OK"
"But if it's on the outbreath, then you need to go to the hospital. Is his breathing pace faster? Does he breath in a few quick breaths after coughing?"
"I don't think so," I said and half ignoring the outbreathing wheezing scenario, thinking that it's just a bout of croup.
Well, as soon as I got off the phone with the pediatrician, Ivan coughed and then breathed in a few quick breaths. It freaked me out. I listened to his breathing and this time it seemed the wheezing was on the outbreath. I was in denial. When Andy returned, he listened too and concluded it was on the outbreath. We called the pediatrician again. She said to go the hospital as he needs a breathing treatment.
So, on Saturday around 4 pm we packed Mr. Meh and took him to Holy Cross ER. He had a bit of a fever (101 or so). They checked him out. He seemed fine except for the occasional wheezing. There are two treatments for wheezing: using the nebulizer or putting him a pump or two of asthma-like pump medicine (I forget the name). They decided again the nebulizer because Mr. Meh would have to have a mask on his face for some 10-15 min while he enhaled all of the medicine. They went the option 2. I thought this was equally bad. We had to put this mask, which covered his nose and mouth, over his face and then press the pump twice so he'd get two shots of the medicine. Sounds easy. Except that Mr. Meh was screaming his lungs out and wouldn't let anyone come near him. The whole weekend, he had been really protective of himself and wouldn't let us touch him -- from trying to suction out his nose, to changing his diaper, etc....
Mr. Meh screamed and trashed around for some 10min-1/2 hour while the two of us and the nurse tried to put the mask on his face and get two pump squirts in. The nurse said it's actually better than he's crying because he'd inhale more of the medicine.
Then we left, with instructions to go and see the doctor on Sunday morning.
While we were at the hospital trying to change his diaper, I also noticed that behind one knee he had some sort of dried skin/rash spot. I had never noticed that before.
By the time we came home from the hospital, Mr. Meh, who was exhausted and for whom it was almost past his bedtime, was asleep in the car. We just carried him to his room, and put him to bed with a bottle of milk. He wasn't eating much on Friday or Saturday, probably because he's sick, so we figured it's better to let him sleep and drink milk than force him to eat.
On Sunday morning, he was still wheezing intermittenly -- the same way he wheezed on Saturday. We went to the doctor's. She didn't check for his cold or check his temperature, but honed in on the wheezing, which was why we were there. She gave him the nebulizer treatment -- she said the advantage of it is that the child needs to inhale whereas with the treatment we got at the hospital, the child can just hold in his breath and not breathe in the medicine.
Well, Mr. Meh was freaking out. He was crying inconsolably. He wouldn't let her touch him with the sthetoscope, etc....just like at the hospital the evening before. I think it's because he probably remembered that we were at the doctor's at a week earlier, when he got his shots that really hurt.
When the nurse came in with the nebulizer machine, he was screaming and trashing around. It was really awful. Finally the nurse gave up and left, leaving us to calm him down and get the mask on his face so we can use the nebulizer. It was awful. Andy was holding him and I was trying to put the mask (which was just a piece of clear plastic) over his mouth and nose. After some 1/2 hour of resisting us, he just slumped in Andy's lap and inhaled the medicine. It was as if he gave up on us. We felt awful -- he was probably thinking that we, the two people he trusts the most, were trying to hurt him.
After the nebulizer while we were waiting for the doctor, he was so exhausted, he just fell asleeep in my lap. In an odd way, that scene made me feel like a real mom -- my exhausted, sick child napping in my lap and me patting his head, hugging him and loving him.
Andy wasn't thrilled about the Ivan getting this medicine (a bronchiodialator -- elbutrin or something). It's asthma medicine, for which he says it's like getting a huge shot of coffee. I wouldn't know. But aparently that's what needs to be done to help babies breathe.
The pediatrician lent us the nebulizer machine and said that we should give him the treatment every 4-6 hours if he's wheezing. If he goes for 8 hours without wheezing that he's fine.
We thought that he sounded better on Sunday. He still had a fever (101) in the evening, but that's normal for fighting a cold. He slept fine -- i.e. like he normally does. (Woke up around 10 to get milk and then slept until 6 am) On Monday I stayed home. I thought I heard him wheeze in the morning, but Andy didn't hear him, so we decided not to give him anything. He was fine for the rest of the day. He didn't eat very much and took more naps and was a bit more cranky, but overall he was the happy, active baby he is. On Tuesday morning, Andy thought he heard him wheeze but I didn't so we didn't give him anything again. We both went to work. My dad said Ivan was fine during the day -- that he slept more and ate less, but otherwise was fine.
So this morning, Andy took the nebulizer back to the doctor's since she was adamant to bring it back as soon as we no longer need it because it was their last one their loaned out..... He was supposed to make an appointement for Ivan to come back, as we both understood the doctor on Sunday that we should return the nebulizer once we no longer need it and that Ivan shoudl come back for a check up a few days after he stops wheezing. But Andy saw the doctor this morning, and said she wasn't pleasant, and that we were supposed to bring both the nebulizer and Ivan at the same time. If he's no longer wheezing, that there is no need for a check up.
So what's caused this? Is it serious? Does he have asthma? Did we overreact?
We don't know whether we overreacted -- we followed the doctor's advice. Did the amount of his wheezing (it never sounded as he was really struggling and we heard it intermittently) warrant the pain we caused him by forcing those masks on him?
Is this a beginning of asthma? The pediatrician said a child needs to be heard wheezing on three separate occasions by a physician to say that he has asthma. He probably has a predisposition toward asthma as Andy has a mild asthma and it turns out several of his nieces/nephews also were "nebulized" as babies.
What caused this? Who knows. Probably the cold virus triggered it. Andy's heartbroken because he thinks his smoking caused it (he smokes only in the garage, but the smoke still wafts through the house). Since the weekend he's stopped smoking at home, which I hope he keeps up. I want him to stop altogether. I got angry with Andy that now all of a sudden it dawned on him that second hand smoke may be bad, as if I haven' tbeen bitching about that on daily basis for the last three years.
I'm upset because as of last week, Ivan stopped nursing - he stopped wanting to nurse, not me. The fact that he no longer wants to nurse has been quite hard for me to take. But with this cold, I feel that he got sick in the first place because he stopped nursing and he no longer gets my extra immunity. I feel that he stopped nursing and is now falling apart.
His dried skin stop behind his knee is still there. I've been putting lotion on it, but it hasn't gone away yet. Is it eczema? It could be. Wheezing, asthma, allergies, eczema all go hand in hand. And Andy had some eczema as a baby.
Then we also noticed that the spot where he got his shot (I think it was the chicken pox shot) is inflamed and red. Getting such a reaction to the shot is normal, but since he hasn't had any side effects with any shots so for nor got sick before this episode, getting all these minor things at once, I feel like the baby is falling apart. (I know he's not, and I feel very lucky and grateful that we made it to one year before getting sick at all).
So if that is eczema and this was really wheezing, maybe he does have a predisposition toward asthma. While it's not a big deal and if he were to get it it's manageable, nobody wants their child to be sick and have ailments.
He still has a cold and his nose is runny, but he seems better. I can't recall whether this morning either one of us heard him wheeze. We did listen for it.
Is this an isolated episode or a beginning of something more frequent remains to be seen.
The runny nose and cough started last Thursday. We stayed home with him on Friday. (The weather was also awful, freezing rain so the fed government had optional leave policy in effect and UMCP opened late.) We tried sucking out the snot from his nose, but he wouldn't let us get anywhere near his nose with that little suction device.
On Saturday, Andy thought he heard him wheeze. Then I thought I heard him wheeze too. And while Andy was out buying a humidifier for his room to help with the cold, I called the doctor.
"Is the breathing on the inbreath, or outbreath?"
"I don't know. It's hard to tell."
"Well, if it's on the inbreath, then it's croup and there is nothing you can do about it. It will progressively get worse for three nights, before it gets better. Humidier is all you can do."
"OK"
"But if it's on the outbreath, then you need to go to the hospital. Is his breathing pace faster? Does he breath in a few quick breaths after coughing?"
"I don't think so," I said and half ignoring the outbreathing wheezing scenario, thinking that it's just a bout of croup.
Well, as soon as I got off the phone with the pediatrician, Ivan coughed and then breathed in a few quick breaths. It freaked me out. I listened to his breathing and this time it seemed the wheezing was on the outbreath. I was in denial. When Andy returned, he listened too and concluded it was on the outbreath. We called the pediatrician again. She said to go the hospital as he needs a breathing treatment.
So, on Saturday around 4 pm we packed Mr. Meh and took him to Holy Cross ER. He had a bit of a fever (101 or so). They checked him out. He seemed fine except for the occasional wheezing. There are two treatments for wheezing: using the nebulizer or putting him a pump or two of asthma-like pump medicine (I forget the name). They decided again the nebulizer because Mr. Meh would have to have a mask on his face for some 10-15 min while he enhaled all of the medicine. They went the option 2. I thought this was equally bad. We had to put this mask, which covered his nose and mouth, over his face and then press the pump twice so he'd get two shots of the medicine. Sounds easy. Except that Mr. Meh was screaming his lungs out and wouldn't let anyone come near him. The whole weekend, he had been really protective of himself and wouldn't let us touch him -- from trying to suction out his nose, to changing his diaper, etc....
Mr. Meh screamed and trashed around for some 10min-1/2 hour while the two of us and the nurse tried to put the mask on his face and get two pump squirts in. The nurse said it's actually better than he's crying because he'd inhale more of the medicine.
Then we left, with instructions to go and see the doctor on Sunday morning.
While we were at the hospital trying to change his diaper, I also noticed that behind one knee he had some sort of dried skin/rash spot. I had never noticed that before.
By the time we came home from the hospital, Mr. Meh, who was exhausted and for whom it was almost past his bedtime, was asleep in the car. We just carried him to his room, and put him to bed with a bottle of milk. He wasn't eating much on Friday or Saturday, probably because he's sick, so we figured it's better to let him sleep and drink milk than force him to eat.
On Sunday morning, he was still wheezing intermittenly -- the same way he wheezed on Saturday. We went to the doctor's. She didn't check for his cold or check his temperature, but honed in on the wheezing, which was why we were there. She gave him the nebulizer treatment -- she said the advantage of it is that the child needs to inhale whereas with the treatment we got at the hospital, the child can just hold in his breath and not breathe in the medicine.
Well, Mr. Meh was freaking out. He was crying inconsolably. He wouldn't let her touch him with the sthetoscope, etc....just like at the hospital the evening before. I think it's because he probably remembered that we were at the doctor's at a week earlier, when he got his shots that really hurt.
When the nurse came in with the nebulizer machine, he was screaming and trashing around. It was really awful. Finally the nurse gave up and left, leaving us to calm him down and get the mask on his face so we can use the nebulizer. It was awful. Andy was holding him and I was trying to put the mask (which was just a piece of clear plastic) over his mouth and nose. After some 1/2 hour of resisting us, he just slumped in Andy's lap and inhaled the medicine. It was as if he gave up on us. We felt awful -- he was probably thinking that we, the two people he trusts the most, were trying to hurt him.
After the nebulizer while we were waiting for the doctor, he was so exhausted, he just fell asleeep in my lap. In an odd way, that scene made me feel like a real mom -- my exhausted, sick child napping in my lap and me patting his head, hugging him and loving him.
Andy wasn't thrilled about the Ivan getting this medicine (a bronchiodialator -- elbutrin or something). It's asthma medicine, for which he says it's like getting a huge shot of coffee. I wouldn't know. But aparently that's what needs to be done to help babies breathe.
The pediatrician lent us the nebulizer machine and said that we should give him the treatment every 4-6 hours if he's wheezing. If he goes for 8 hours without wheezing that he's fine.
We thought that he sounded better on Sunday. He still had a fever (101) in the evening, but that's normal for fighting a cold. He slept fine -- i.e. like he normally does. (Woke up around 10 to get milk and then slept until 6 am) On Monday I stayed home. I thought I heard him wheeze in the morning, but Andy didn't hear him, so we decided not to give him anything. He was fine for the rest of the day. He didn't eat very much and took more naps and was a bit more cranky, but overall he was the happy, active baby he is. On Tuesday morning, Andy thought he heard him wheeze but I didn't so we didn't give him anything again. We both went to work. My dad said Ivan was fine during the day -- that he slept more and ate less, but otherwise was fine.
So this morning, Andy took the nebulizer back to the doctor's since she was adamant to bring it back as soon as we no longer need it because it was their last one their loaned out..... He was supposed to make an appointement for Ivan to come back, as we both understood the doctor on Sunday that we should return the nebulizer once we no longer need it and that Ivan shoudl come back for a check up a few days after he stops wheezing. But Andy saw the doctor this morning, and said she wasn't pleasant, and that we were supposed to bring both the nebulizer and Ivan at the same time. If he's no longer wheezing, that there is no need for a check up.
So what's caused this? Is it serious? Does he have asthma? Did we overreact?
We don't know whether we overreacted -- we followed the doctor's advice. Did the amount of his wheezing (it never sounded as he was really struggling and we heard it intermittently) warrant the pain we caused him by forcing those masks on him?
Is this a beginning of asthma? The pediatrician said a child needs to be heard wheezing on three separate occasions by a physician to say that he has asthma. He probably has a predisposition toward asthma as Andy has a mild asthma and it turns out several of his nieces/nephews also were "nebulized" as babies.
What caused this? Who knows. Probably the cold virus triggered it. Andy's heartbroken because he thinks his smoking caused it (he smokes only in the garage, but the smoke still wafts through the house). Since the weekend he's stopped smoking at home, which I hope he keeps up. I want him to stop altogether. I got angry with Andy that now all of a sudden it dawned on him that second hand smoke may be bad, as if I haven' tbeen bitching about that on daily basis for the last three years.
I'm upset because as of last week, Ivan stopped nursing - he stopped wanting to nurse, not me. The fact that he no longer wants to nurse has been quite hard for me to take. But with this cold, I feel that he got sick in the first place because he stopped nursing and he no longer gets my extra immunity. I feel that he stopped nursing and is now falling apart.
His dried skin stop behind his knee is still there. I've been putting lotion on it, but it hasn't gone away yet. Is it eczema? It could be. Wheezing, asthma, allergies, eczema all go hand in hand. And Andy had some eczema as a baby.
Then we also noticed that the spot where he got his shot (I think it was the chicken pox shot) is inflamed and red. Getting such a reaction to the shot is normal, but since he hasn't had any side effects with any shots so for nor got sick before this episode, getting all these minor things at once, I feel like the baby is falling apart. (I know he's not, and I feel very lucky and grateful that we made it to one year before getting sick at all).
So if that is eczema and this was really wheezing, maybe he does have a predisposition toward asthma. While it's not a big deal and if he were to get it it's manageable, nobody wants their child to be sick and have ailments.
He still has a cold and his nose is runny, but he seems better. I can't recall whether this morning either one of us heard him wheeze. We did listen for it.
Is this an isolated episode or a beginning of something more frequent remains to be seen.
Monday, February 18, 2008
Stickers
Mr. Meh was quite irritable and cranky this afternoon. At first we thought it was his regular "don't want to take an afternoon nap and will be cranky until bedtime" special, but nothing could quite him down. We tried giving him water and milk, etc. nothing worked.
At one point, he even spit up a bit, something he never does (apart from those early weeks' spit ups, Mr.Meh has never thrown up.., which is good for me because vomit grosses me out, not so much poop, but vomit).
Eventually, as he was crying I saw that he had something in his mouth. Somehow he got a hold of Sesame Streets stickers and put one in his mouth -- he puts everything in his mouth so why not the stickers.
Now, Andy and I were at a point of contention, who's fault it was. We were both shaken as Mr. Meh could've swallowed the plastic stickers and choked. (Luckily that didn't happen).
Andy wondered I put stickers in Mr. Meh's playpen (we found the stickers booklet on the floor next to the playpen). I wondered why wasn't Andy paying attention to what he was doing since he was watching him.
What had happened was that as Mr. Meh was cruising along his playpen and he checking out the pockets that are attached to the playpen. Now he's tall enough and can reach to grab things in the pockets. (The answer is: all sorts of things. Some of which, like the mini nail files, I subsequently removed.) Somehow the stickers were there (I don't remember putting them in the pocket. I know they used to be on the living room desk).
Thank God everything ended well. Needless to say both Andy and I were quite shaken by it, and since both of us were in some sort of tired yet snippy mood this afternoon, it wasn't hard to blame this incident onto the other person's neglect.
But all is well that ends well. And as Mr. Meh got happy again and the crying stopped, we all cheered up.
At one point, he even spit up a bit, something he never does (apart from those early weeks' spit ups, Mr.Meh has never thrown up.., which is good for me because vomit grosses me out, not so much poop, but vomit).
Eventually, as he was crying I saw that he had something in his mouth. Somehow he got a hold of Sesame Streets stickers and put one in his mouth -- he puts everything in his mouth so why not the stickers.
Now, Andy and I were at a point of contention, who's fault it was. We were both shaken as Mr. Meh could've swallowed the plastic stickers and choked. (Luckily that didn't happen).
Andy wondered I put stickers in Mr. Meh's playpen (we found the stickers booklet on the floor next to the playpen). I wondered why wasn't Andy paying attention to what he was doing since he was watching him.
What had happened was that as Mr. Meh was cruising along his playpen and he checking out the pockets that are attached to the playpen. Now he's tall enough and can reach to grab things in the pockets. (The answer is: all sorts of things. Some of which, like the mini nail files, I subsequently removed.) Somehow the stickers were there (I don't remember putting them in the pocket. I know they used to be on the living room desk).
Thank God everything ended well. Needless to say both Andy and I were quite shaken by it, and since both of us were in some sort of tired yet snippy mood this afternoon, it wasn't hard to blame this incident onto the other person's neglect.
But all is well that ends well. And as Mr. Meh got happy again and the crying stopped, we all cheered up.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Steps
By the time we made it home from the doctor's appointement, everything was fine. The crying had stopped and we were a happy giggly baby again.
As soon as we got home we started crawling towards everything. Then he honed in on the stairs. First he went to the stair that leads to the basement. Instead of picking him up and turning him around as I usually do, I let him crawl down the stair. Both Andy and my dad said that he's able to do that. So I stood there and let him do it. I still had to help him a bit, but he did lower himself on the step. Then he promptly turned around and climbed up.
Some time later he went towards the other landing, the one leading upstairs. He crawled up the landing and then started crawling up the stairs. I thought he'd crawl a stair or two as my dad said he usually does, but I was quite surprised that he climbed all the way up to the second floor.
He was so proud of himself. We played a bit in his room and then he crawled over to our bedroom where there is a phone cord that's no longer attached to a phone and has in turn become his toy.
He played with that wire for a long, long time. Probably like an hour. He was putting it on the low black shelf and taking it offf. He was crawling with it from one end to the other. It was fascinating to watch him. I could tell he was thinking and figuring out how the wire behaves in relation to other things.
It's fascinating to watch him figure things out!
After some time, he got tired and I took that opportunity to plop him back into the car, where I hoped he'd take a nap, and drove to my parents' house, where Ivan was going to spend the night --- for the first time.
But that's another story!
As soon as we got home we started crawling towards everything. Then he honed in on the stairs. First he went to the stair that leads to the basement. Instead of picking him up and turning him around as I usually do, I let him crawl down the stair. Both Andy and my dad said that he's able to do that. So I stood there and let him do it. I still had to help him a bit, but he did lower himself on the step. Then he promptly turned around and climbed up.
Some time later he went towards the other landing, the one leading upstairs. He crawled up the landing and then started crawling up the stairs. I thought he'd crawl a stair or two as my dad said he usually does, but I was quite surprised that he climbed all the way up to the second floor.
He was so proud of himself. We played a bit in his room and then he crawled over to our bedroom where there is a phone cord that's no longer attached to a phone and has in turn become his toy.
He played with that wire for a long, long time. Probably like an hour. He was putting it on the low black shelf and taking it offf. He was crawling with it from one end to the other. It was fascinating to watch him. I could tell he was thinking and figuring out how the wire behaves in relation to other things.
It's fascinating to watch him figure things out!
After some time, he got tired and I took that opportunity to plop him back into the car, where I hoped he'd take a nap, and drove to my parents' house, where Ivan was going to spend the night --- for the first time.
But that's another story!
One Year Check Up
I took Ivan for his 1 year check up yesterday. He weighs 21 lbs and 4.7 oz and is 29 in tall. Both of these measurements still put him in the 25th percentile. His head circumference is however, in the 25-50 percentile. So I guess, he continues to grow just as he should. I guess he event plumped a bit because at the 9th month appointement he had dipped down to 10-25th percentile.
I'm a bit surprised because he's seems so big and heavy, I thought he was going to be bigger, percentile-wise, but actually I really don't care. The doctor again said he's gorgeous, which I'm sure she says to everyone but is still good to hear.
He was shy at first and then while we were talking to the doctor he extended his finger and started babling at her. She extended her finger too, so they had a bit of an E.T. moment. Really cute.
Then the non-so-fun part started. They had to draw his blood to check for lead and anemia and give him three shots. The blood letting part was hard. They pricked his finger and then had to wait for the droplets of blood to accummulate in a vial. It took some time and Ivan didn't like he. He was crying.
Then the shot came. Just the thought of those breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because I know it's going to hurt and he's still so trusting and carefree that there is still that moment of disbelief on his face when something painful, like a shot, happens to him. It's just awful to see his face processing the info, the pain.
He got two shots in one arm and the third in the other arm. It was funny because after the doctor left I dressed him back up but didn't put his pants up thinking the shots would be to his tights. But apparently after babies turn one, they get their shots in their arms, just like adults.
It took a long time for him to calm down. I felt so bad for him. A part of me wished someone else took him to get the shots not me. I don't want him to associate that pain and that unpleasant experience with me. But I am his mom and, I hope, that I'm the one who can soothe him and calm him down the best. I just hate it when he cries. It causes such a feeling of unsettleness, panic and utter helplessness. I would do anything to make him stop crying.
I assume all moms feels the same -- doing anything and everything to aleviate a baby's pain. And then experts say to let him cry it out at night so the baby learns to sleep. How is that possible? It goes against every grain of being a mom. And nobody I know has actually let their child cry it out at night. Everyone I've asked says that they go in and soothe the baby.
I'm beginning to think that this crying it out business is just one big myth.
I'm a bit surprised because he's seems so big and heavy, I thought he was going to be bigger, percentile-wise, but actually I really don't care. The doctor again said he's gorgeous, which I'm sure she says to everyone but is still good to hear.
He was shy at first and then while we were talking to the doctor he extended his finger and started babling at her. She extended her finger too, so they had a bit of an E.T. moment. Really cute.
Then the non-so-fun part started. They had to draw his blood to check for lead and anemia and give him three shots. The blood letting part was hard. They pricked his finger and then had to wait for the droplets of blood to accummulate in a vial. It took some time and Ivan didn't like he. He was crying.
Then the shot came. Just the thought of those breaks my heart. It breaks my heart because I know it's going to hurt and he's still so trusting and carefree that there is still that moment of disbelief on his face when something painful, like a shot, happens to him. It's just awful to see his face processing the info, the pain.
He got two shots in one arm and the third in the other arm. It was funny because after the doctor left I dressed him back up but didn't put his pants up thinking the shots would be to his tights. But apparently after babies turn one, they get their shots in their arms, just like adults.
It took a long time for him to calm down. I felt so bad for him. A part of me wished someone else took him to get the shots not me. I don't want him to associate that pain and that unpleasant experience with me. But I am his mom and, I hope, that I'm the one who can soothe him and calm him down the best. I just hate it when he cries. It causes such a feeling of unsettleness, panic and utter helplessness. I would do anything to make him stop crying.
I assume all moms feels the same -- doing anything and everything to aleviate a baby's pain. And then experts say to let him cry it out at night so the baby learns to sleep. How is that possible? It goes against every grain of being a mom. And nobody I know has actually let their child cry it out at night. Everyone I've asked says that they go in and soothe the baby.
I'm beginning to think that this crying it out business is just one big myth.
Wednesday, February 13, 2008
Milk update
Ivan has been chugging down milk like the cows will run out of it (they won't). I still nurse him a bit in the evening and/or in the morning, and definitely if he wakes up during the night. Since I'm definitely nursing him more sporadically now, I don't even know how much there is (and I'm not pumping to figure it out).
When he's awake, he's definitely less interested in it than he was in the past. He still has a tendency to need to nurse to calm down when he gets out of the tub (in which he stands) and is cold. He needs the boob to calm down and warm up. And I get stuck with having ice-cold little hands hugging me. (Although slowly we've been getting around that lately by towel drying his hair in the bathroom instead of bringing him to the bedroom first.)
However, this takes a short time, and he's immediately crawling off to go to the window. This actually makes it easier to put on his diaper -- he's standing still, looking out the window). After I put his jammies on, we play or try to read (which is another story all together). All is fine until he sees a bottle of milk. Then he gets whiny and demands it. So, we've been putting the milk in his crib, so he doesn't see it while I'm still tryinng to play with him on the spare bedroom.
I guess I've accomplished my goal of nursing him until he's one. I could stop and will stop soon, I assume. But a part of me doesn't want to. It's part of our bond that I don't want to lose. I never thought I would feel so strongly about nursing but the thought of stopping it does saddens me.
However, on the positive side, it's good that the transition will be painless and gradual for Ivan.
When he's awake, he's definitely less interested in it than he was in the past. He still has a tendency to need to nurse to calm down when he gets out of the tub (in which he stands) and is cold. He needs the boob to calm down and warm up. And I get stuck with having ice-cold little hands hugging me. (Although slowly we've been getting around that lately by towel drying his hair in the bathroom instead of bringing him to the bedroom first.)
However, this takes a short time, and he's immediately crawling off to go to the window. This actually makes it easier to put on his diaper -- he's standing still, looking out the window). After I put his jammies on, we play or try to read (which is another story all together). All is fine until he sees a bottle of milk. Then he gets whiny and demands it. So, we've been putting the milk in his crib, so he doesn't see it while I'm still tryinng to play with him on the spare bedroom.
I guess I've accomplished my goal of nursing him until he's one. I could stop and will stop soon, I assume. But a part of me doesn't want to. It's part of our bond that I don't want to lose. I never thought I would feel so strongly about nursing but the thought of stopping it does saddens me.
However, on the positive side, it's good that the transition will be painless and gradual for Ivan.
Playing with wipes box
Since the summer, I guess since he was 4 months old (well as soon as he could sit up), one of Ivan's favorite "toys" has been playing with the plastic box for the wipes. That box is fascinating. Luckily for me, I have one in each room (can never have enough of wipes handy). For months over the summer, Ivan would do nothing but look at the box, turn it, open the flip, close the flip, chew the box and pull and pull on the wipes until they all came out. What an endeless and fascinating source of play.
It was quite a handy tool to try to make him lay still for those few minutes while I was trying to change his diapers (until he figured out how to stand two months ago and started making an immediate bee line for the bed headboard to walk over to the window to look out)
That box (well, all different color variations we have strewn around the house) has been an endless source of fascination, until he started crawling and could pick up Mariposa's toys, and until he discovered the vacuum cleaner. But he still likes to play with the wipes' box.
He's taken a sudden re-interest in it over the last few days. But I noticed his play is different now. While over the summer, he loved to pull the tissues out (and would entertain himself for quite a long period of time), now he seems more interested in figuring out how to push them back inside. Even back in the summer/fall he would stick his hand in the opening to see what's there, but he didn't try to push the tissues back in.
He obviously needs to pull out the tissues and he does it with gusto, but I can tell that's not the object of the play. He is more intrigued to see how to push the issues back in.
I guess it makes sense. For the last few months (since he started pulling himself up), he's gotten very interested in figuring out how things work -- opening and closing doors, the vacuum cleaner, etc...
It's interesting to notice these little changes in him.
It was quite a handy tool to try to make him lay still for those few minutes while I was trying to change his diapers (until he figured out how to stand two months ago and started making an immediate bee line for the bed headboard to walk over to the window to look out)
That box (well, all different color variations we have strewn around the house) has been an endless source of fascination, until he started crawling and could pick up Mariposa's toys, and until he discovered the vacuum cleaner. But he still likes to play with the wipes' box.
He's taken a sudden re-interest in it over the last few days. But I noticed his play is different now. While over the summer, he loved to pull the tissues out (and would entertain himself for quite a long period of time), now he seems more interested in figuring out how to push them back inside. Even back in the summer/fall he would stick his hand in the opening to see what's there, but he didn't try to push the tissues back in.
He obviously needs to pull out the tissues and he does it with gusto, but I can tell that's not the object of the play. He is more intrigued to see how to push the issues back in.
I guess it makes sense. For the last few months (since he started pulling himself up), he's gotten very interested in figuring out how things work -- opening and closing doors, the vacuum cleaner, etc...
It's interesting to notice these little changes in him.
Monday, February 11, 2008
Gifts
While I wanted to open the gifts right after the party, we decided to wait until Sunday morning to open them together with Ivan (although I knew that I would care more about the gifts than he would). Which was precisely what happened.
While we had tidied up the house the night before, we left the sweeping and vacuuming for Sunday morning, which we did before opening the gifts.
We left the vacuum cleaner out, Mr. Meh's favorite toy. So while we were opening the gifts, Ivan proceeded to play with the vacuum cleaner and its wire. He also found on the floor one of the empty water bottles that I had drank earlier in the day. We bought water bottles for the party; we usually don't have them in the house. We'll he was all about the water bottle for a while before he returned to the vacuum cleaner -- all of this while Andy and I are opening the gifts.
Ivan got lots of cool stuff, but I must say I was quite surprised that this was quite a literary crowd -- most of the presents he got were books. A few toys (plastic toys with batteries), a couple of stuffed animals, several packages of different wooden blocks, and a few pieces of clothing....but it was all mostly books. Oddly enough only two of the books were duplicates. Who knew that the infant book selection is so diverse.
I found it quite unusual to so many people got books. Who knows maybe everyone assumed that everyone else was going to buy toys and clothes so they decided to buy books. Or maybe it was the easiest thing to do -- go to a Borders and pick up a few books. Who knows.
But in any case the books are really cool, so I'm looking fo
While we had tidied up the house the night before, we left the sweeping and vacuuming for Sunday morning, which we did before opening the gifts.
We left the vacuum cleaner out, Mr. Meh's favorite toy. So while we were opening the gifts, Ivan proceeded to play with the vacuum cleaner and its wire. He also found on the floor one of the empty water bottles that I had drank earlier in the day. We bought water bottles for the party; we usually don't have them in the house. We'll he was all about the water bottle for a while before he returned to the vacuum cleaner -- all of this while Andy and I are opening the gifts.
Ivan got lots of cool stuff, but I must say I was quite surprised that this was quite a literary crowd -- most of the presents he got were books. A few toys (plastic toys with batteries), a couple of stuffed animals, several packages of different wooden blocks, and a few pieces of clothing....but it was all mostly books. Oddly enough only two of the books were duplicates. Who knew that the infant book selection is so diverse.
I found it quite unusual to so many people got books. Who knows maybe everyone assumed that everyone else was going to buy toys and clothes so they decided to buy books. Or maybe it was the easiest thing to do -- go to a Borders and pick up a few books. Who knows.
But in any case the books are really cool, so I'm looking fo
Sunday, February 10, 2008
Turning One!
Ivan turned one yesterday. Really awe-inspiring and unbelieveable -- that a year ago he didn't even exist and now he's already a littel boy. There are times, days, when he looks more like a little boy that he'll become, and others when he's still the pudgy, cute, round baby. In the latest round of photos taken at the birthday party yesterday, Andy and I noticed that in some photos there is a recognition, a depth in his eyes that wasn't there before. My little baby growing up.
So we have ended up inviting some 40-50 people to the party (kids included). Out of those people who said they'd come, most actually came. (There were a few people who said up front that they couldn't make it because they'd be out of town or had other obligations). The people who came included: my parents, Andy's parents and grandpa, Andy's sister Lisa and her family, (Sue couldn't come), Kris+Olexa (came up all the way from Florida, Lucy (I was impressed that she actually drove down from Philly), Katherine, Lisa+LJ+Sam, Dora+Lorenzo, Miriam+Sophie, Ana+Mateo, Angela+Sam, Natalya+Ian, Rita+Sanjoy+Maya, Lisa+Ramon, Kristina+Emir, Christine, Swati+Arya, Donna+Rona, Deidre+John, the book club neighbors-Jim+Katy, Karen, Penny+Bill, Dave, Chris+Ann = 49 people and babies. Wow. I didn't know whether we would be able to fit all of them in the house, but we did.
Luckily, the day was nice, allowing some, particularly Andy's family, to hang out on the porch. Nobody used the basement (except for Jared who eventually went to watch TV), and we had spent so much time cleaning/tidying it. It looks quite nice.
The food:
Chili: meat and vegetarian (Andy), tuna fish, shrimp risotto, potato salad (all my dad), shrimp platter, hummus, cheese, ham, cream puffs, brownies (Andy's mom)
The cake:
Andy ordered it from Safeway -- enough cake to feed 50 people. I almost fainted when I saw how huge it was. And almost dropped it, how heavy it was, getting it to the car. I had to put it down on a car next to mine, in order to open the trunk and put it in. It was a full sheet. As he said himself, he should've gotten half a sheet. All well. For 50 bucks it was lots of cake (unfortunately, we have quite a lot of leftovers).
Decorations:
Lots of baloons. Mr. Meh actually played with them during the party and today.
The party was set to start at 1 pm as that's usually the time Mr. Meh is most awake, alert and ready to plan (apart from 6 am). However, it figured that that day, he didn't want to go down for his mid-morning nap, he was fighting it, and fighting it. I put him down at 10 am only to fetch him half an hour later. He didn't sleep at all but spent the whole time babbling. I found him standing up in his crib, grinning at me. Eventually he got cranky then got crankier. Finally I gave him a bottle of milk and plopped him down to sleep. Of course, this was exactly at 1 pm. Andy and I joked about that in the morning -- "Watch Mr. Meh go to take a nap exactly at one when the party is supposed to start." How prescient of us. So, the guest of honor when to take a nap when his party was about to start. He slept for some 45 minutes, his usual amount.
When he came back down, he was confused and still sleepy. The house was swarming with people, none of whom he knew. He was starting to get cranky, so my mom took him to the porch, where he was playing with baloons. Apparently it was loads of fun.
So between everyone holding him, him being crancky and cheerfull the party progressed, until cake time. We lit a candle that he and I blew out together (I forgot to make a wish, but since I wish good things for him all the time, I'm sure some of those wishes are bound to stick). Then we sat him in his high chair and gave him the cake. First I fed him some and then I let him play with the cake. Soon he was all covered in blue frosting -- forehead to waist. THe amount of cake messiness was way beyond my level of comfort but I let him get all sticky. It's was supposed to happen at such events. Eventually I took the cake away, wished him upstair to clean his hands and change his clothing.
Late in the party, Ivan, my mom, Christine, Sam, LJ, Lorenzo, Dora and various other people who kept coming and going when to Ivan's room to play. I wasn't there most of the time so I'm not sure what transpired, but it seemed as if everyone had a good time.
Eventually people left. Dora stayed late, so did Lucy and Kris, whom I had asked to stay behind so we can catch up.
And then it was all over.
It was lots of fun (I think). I think the party went well, that everyone had fun and that we managed to host 49 people and babies in our house.
So we have ended up inviting some 40-50 people to the party (kids included). Out of those people who said they'd come, most actually came. (There were a few people who said up front that they couldn't make it because they'd be out of town or had other obligations). The people who came included: my parents, Andy's parents and grandpa, Andy's sister Lisa and her family, (Sue couldn't come), Kris+Olexa (came up all the way from Florida, Lucy (I was impressed that she actually drove down from Philly), Katherine, Lisa+LJ+Sam, Dora+Lorenzo, Miriam+Sophie, Ana+Mateo, Angela+Sam, Natalya+Ian, Rita+Sanjoy+Maya, Lisa+Ramon, Kristina+Emir, Christine, Swati+Arya, Donna+Rona, Deidre+John, the book club neighbors-Jim+Katy, Karen, Penny+Bill, Dave, Chris+Ann = 49 people and babies. Wow. I didn't know whether we would be able to fit all of them in the house, but we did.
Luckily, the day was nice, allowing some, particularly Andy's family, to hang out on the porch. Nobody used the basement (except for Jared who eventually went to watch TV), and we had spent so much time cleaning/tidying it. It looks quite nice.
The food:
Chili: meat and vegetarian (Andy), tuna fish, shrimp risotto, potato salad (all my dad), shrimp platter, hummus, cheese, ham, cream puffs, brownies (Andy's mom)
The cake:
Andy ordered it from Safeway -- enough cake to feed 50 people. I almost fainted when I saw how huge it was. And almost dropped it, how heavy it was, getting it to the car. I had to put it down on a car next to mine, in order to open the trunk and put it in. It was a full sheet. As he said himself, he should've gotten half a sheet. All well. For 50 bucks it was lots of cake (unfortunately, we have quite a lot of leftovers).
Decorations:
Lots of baloons. Mr. Meh actually played with them during the party and today.
The party was set to start at 1 pm as that's usually the time Mr. Meh is most awake, alert and ready to plan (apart from 6 am). However, it figured that that day, he didn't want to go down for his mid-morning nap, he was fighting it, and fighting it. I put him down at 10 am only to fetch him half an hour later. He didn't sleep at all but spent the whole time babbling. I found him standing up in his crib, grinning at me. Eventually he got cranky then got crankier. Finally I gave him a bottle of milk and plopped him down to sleep. Of course, this was exactly at 1 pm. Andy and I joked about that in the morning -- "Watch Mr. Meh go to take a nap exactly at one when the party is supposed to start." How prescient of us. So, the guest of honor when to take a nap when his party was about to start. He slept for some 45 minutes, his usual amount.
When he came back down, he was confused and still sleepy. The house was swarming with people, none of whom he knew. He was starting to get cranky, so my mom took him to the porch, where he was playing with baloons. Apparently it was loads of fun.
So between everyone holding him, him being crancky and cheerfull the party progressed, until cake time. We lit a candle that he and I blew out together (I forgot to make a wish, but since I wish good things for him all the time, I'm sure some of those wishes are bound to stick). Then we sat him in his high chair and gave him the cake. First I fed him some and then I let him play with the cake. Soon he was all covered in blue frosting -- forehead to waist. THe amount of cake messiness was way beyond my level of comfort but I let him get all sticky. It's was supposed to happen at such events. Eventually I took the cake away, wished him upstair to clean his hands and change his clothing.
Late in the party, Ivan, my mom, Christine, Sam, LJ, Lorenzo, Dora and various other people who kept coming and going when to Ivan's room to play. I wasn't there most of the time so I'm not sure what transpired, but it seemed as if everyone had a good time.
Eventually people left. Dora stayed late, so did Lucy and Kris, whom I had asked to stay behind so we can catch up.
And then it was all over.
It was lots of fun (I think). I think the party went well, that everyone had fun and that we managed to host 49 people and babies in our house.
Friday, February 8, 2008
Childcare
As everyone has indoctrinated me by now, there is a shortage of childcare in the greater DC area. To get a daycare slot, I should've put the baby on the waiting list(s) the moment I considered getting pregnant.
As if one knew back then anything about daycare. As if there wasn't a whole slew of sooner priorities that the-soon-to-be parents had to familiarize themselves with in order to acquire the best, adequate and suitable baby gear. And the amount of baby gear there is. In another words, become an expert on all things laid out in Baby Bargains. But this is a topic for another time.
Also personally, I felt odd to put the still-not-born-baby on some waiting list. The baby didn't even have a name at that point. (It was finally settled that Ivan woudl be Ivan when he had sign the paperwork and checkout of the hospital, two days after birth. The first baby photos Andy emailed to people had the subject line of "Baby Born. Working name Sebastian Baker." Sebastian became his middle name. There are reasons behind this.)
I did, however, attend Finding the Best Daycare lecture at the Bank last year when I was nearing the end of pregnancy. While it was interesting to hear about the different options and pros and cons (ie nanny, nanny share, au pair, daycare centers, private in house daycare). But basically all the options were not feasible financially nor do they continue to be.
A few months ago I also attended a lecture on finding the best preschool for your child -- the lecturer was basically adamantly against Montessori schools. She had her reasons. They sounded tenable. But who knew. Montessori programs seem to have reached mythic proportions among parents (similar to MacClaren strollers that everyone swears by)
I also knew that in the beginning, my family, aka my dad, would take care of Ivan. My parents, my dad, actually insisted on doing so.
So now, as Ivan's about to turn one, I'm finally making some daycare progress. I filled out the application to put him on the waiting list for UMCP's preschool which he can start when he's 3 and a half. As the good lady replied to me on the phone, "No, it's definitely not too early to put him on the list. I just signed up my 6 month-old grandson."
But in the meantime, I would like Ivan to start some sort of daycare, let's say this summer. Not full time, but part time. Maybe 2,3 days a week. I think the change of pace would be good for my dad and for Ivan, who now seems to show interest in kids.
Again, when I poll and asked friends what they thought of this idea, they all chimed in that there is not part time daycare like that. That there is part time preschool for toddlers (Silver Spring's coop preschool is like that -- toddlers meet for a few hours on Thursday and Friday). That I can pay full time at a daycare place and just have him go part time. I guess I'll see.
A few months ago, I did a printout of daycare places in Montgomery county off the county's website. Finally, this evening, I mapquested all the addresses to figure out where these places are. Now next step will be to call and visit. I'm debating: to first call and see what vibe I get over the phone and then check out the places I like; or drive around to see the actual locations and weed them out that way?
In any case that one of this month's projects.
Ideally, Ivan will go to daycare 2, 3 days a week starting this summer, or maybe next fall. And then once the second baby is born (which yet has to be conceived. that's a project starting up in May), have Ivan go to daycare full time until he can enter that UMCP preschool.
As if one knew back then anything about daycare. As if there wasn't a whole slew of sooner priorities that the-soon-to-be parents had to familiarize themselves with in order to acquire the best, adequate and suitable baby gear. And the amount of baby gear there is. In another words, become an expert on all things laid out in Baby Bargains. But this is a topic for another time.
Also personally, I felt odd to put the still-not-born-baby on some waiting list. The baby didn't even have a name at that point. (It was finally settled that Ivan woudl be Ivan when he had sign the paperwork and checkout of the hospital, two days after birth. The first baby photos Andy emailed to people had the subject line of "Baby Born. Working name Sebastian Baker." Sebastian became his middle name. There are reasons behind this.)
I did, however, attend Finding the Best Daycare lecture at the Bank last year when I was nearing the end of pregnancy. While it was interesting to hear about the different options and pros and cons (ie nanny, nanny share, au pair, daycare centers, private in house daycare). But basically all the options were not feasible financially nor do they continue to be.
A few months ago I also attended a lecture on finding the best preschool for your child -- the lecturer was basically adamantly against Montessori schools. She had her reasons. They sounded tenable. But who knew. Montessori programs seem to have reached mythic proportions among parents (similar to MacClaren strollers that everyone swears by)
I also knew that in the beginning, my family, aka my dad, would take care of Ivan. My parents, my dad, actually insisted on doing so.
So now, as Ivan's about to turn one, I'm finally making some daycare progress. I filled out the application to put him on the waiting list for UMCP's preschool which he can start when he's 3 and a half. As the good lady replied to me on the phone, "No, it's definitely not too early to put him on the list. I just signed up my 6 month-old grandson."
But in the meantime, I would like Ivan to start some sort of daycare, let's say this summer. Not full time, but part time. Maybe 2,3 days a week. I think the change of pace would be good for my dad and for Ivan, who now seems to show interest in kids.
Again, when I poll and asked friends what they thought of this idea, they all chimed in that there is not part time daycare like that. That there is part time preschool for toddlers (Silver Spring's coop preschool is like that -- toddlers meet for a few hours on Thursday and Friday). That I can pay full time at a daycare place and just have him go part time. I guess I'll see.
A few months ago, I did a printout of daycare places in Montgomery county off the county's website. Finally, this evening, I mapquested all the addresses to figure out where these places are. Now next step will be to call and visit. I'm debating: to first call and see what vibe I get over the phone and then check out the places I like; or drive around to see the actual locations and weed them out that way?
In any case that one of this month's projects.
Ideally, Ivan will go to daycare 2, 3 days a week starting this summer, or maybe next fall. And then once the second baby is born (which yet has to be conceived. that's a project starting up in May), have Ivan go to daycare full time until he can enter that UMCP preschool.
Thursday, February 7, 2008
Milk and Boobs
Milk:
This morning Ivan woke up at 5 a.m. for some reason and gurgled and talked and banged on stuff in his bed for about half an hour, when he started wailing....so I went over picked him up and nursed him. And lo and behold, he did. Not as much as yesterday morning, but he nursed. (Since I felt that he didn't nurse as much as the previous time, I was concerned all day that my left boob is still more deflated and lighter than the right one). The I procured the milk and plopped him back to bed. He slept until 7:15 or so. There was a 6 a.m. incident with Mariposa just deciding to pee on the bedroom floor without really asking to go out. I don't know what happened there because she's usually good at demanding to be let out at night. So after that ruckus abated (during which Mr. Meh was up in his crib trying to get as good of a view as possible and demanding to be part of the action -- we ignored him), he calmed down and fell back asleep.
Apparently he slept well during the day as well. Textbook day, it was today. In the evening, after I bathed him, he became his cranky, wrapped-in-a-towel self and demanded to nurse, which he did. But since I alternate boobs he again nursed on the left boob (the ligther one). Of course, he nursed a lot just on that one boob.....which I'm convinced screwed up the boob size and balance some more.
Boobs:
I have nightmares about this boob business because a few weeks before I gave birth, I went to a breastfeeding class at the DC Breastfeeding Center. One of the suggestions to keep the milk flowing was to always alternate the boob from which the baby nurses first. I've been following that. And to help me remember which boob comes next, (after a while it becomes impossible to remember something as simple as that) I keep switching my wedding ring from left to right finger.
However, some babies prefer to nurse on one side, or sometimes one boob produces more milk than the other (I guess hence the baby's preference). After time, this constant one-sided nursing can apparently cause one boob to remain small and the other one to grow bigger and bigger and sag more and more.
"You've never seen those tribal women in National Georgraphic with one breast hanging down much further than the other," Pat, the breastfeeding instructor, asked when we were discussing this subject, as she demonstrated, cupping her one hand and lowering it down to her hip, while keeping the other cupped hand over her other breast.
The horror. Although I don't recall ever noticing a National Geographic tribal woman with her exposed breasts grossly out of proportion, it didn't take much to form such an image in my mind. A fully body shot of a naked tribal woman with a spear or a poll in her hand, beads around her neck, some sort of cotton-straw garment tied around her hips, looking the camera straight on. With scenery and all.
Although this class happened over a year ago, that image I photoshopped in my head haunts me to this day. So does the fear that not only my boobs will be deflated and hanging more than they were before but that one will hang all the way down to my hip.
I must admit, however, that the fear of the sagging boob is as old as my boobs. As soon as my prepubescent fat turned into breast tissue way back at the age of 12 or so, I had these nigthmares that unless I wear a bra all the time (well not during the night) that my breasts will eventually sag to my hips.
Luckily this hasn't happened yet.
This morning Ivan woke up at 5 a.m. for some reason and gurgled and talked and banged on stuff in his bed for about half an hour, when he started wailing....so I went over picked him up and nursed him. And lo and behold, he did. Not as much as yesterday morning, but he nursed. (Since I felt that he didn't nurse as much as the previous time, I was concerned all day that my left boob is still more deflated and lighter than the right one). The I procured the milk and plopped him back to bed. He slept until 7:15 or so. There was a 6 a.m. incident with Mariposa just deciding to pee on the bedroom floor without really asking to go out. I don't know what happened there because she's usually good at demanding to be let out at night. So after that ruckus abated (during which Mr. Meh was up in his crib trying to get as good of a view as possible and demanding to be part of the action -- we ignored him), he calmed down and fell back asleep.
Apparently he slept well during the day as well. Textbook day, it was today. In the evening, after I bathed him, he became his cranky, wrapped-in-a-towel self and demanded to nurse, which he did. But since I alternate boobs he again nursed on the left boob (the ligther one). Of course, he nursed a lot just on that one boob.....which I'm convinced screwed up the boob size and balance some more.
Boobs:
I have nightmares about this boob business because a few weeks before I gave birth, I went to a breastfeeding class at the DC Breastfeeding Center. One of the suggestions to keep the milk flowing was to always alternate the boob from which the baby nurses first. I've been following that. And to help me remember which boob comes next, (after a while it becomes impossible to remember something as simple as that) I keep switching my wedding ring from left to right finger.
However, some babies prefer to nurse on one side, or sometimes one boob produces more milk than the other (I guess hence the baby's preference). After time, this constant one-sided nursing can apparently cause one boob to remain small and the other one to grow bigger and bigger and sag more and more.
"You've never seen those tribal women in National Georgraphic with one breast hanging down much further than the other," Pat, the breastfeeding instructor, asked when we were discussing this subject, as she demonstrated, cupping her one hand and lowering it down to her hip, while keeping the other cupped hand over her other breast.
The horror. Although I don't recall ever noticing a National Geographic tribal woman with her exposed breasts grossly out of proportion, it didn't take much to form such an image in my mind. A fully body shot of a naked tribal woman with a spear or a poll in her hand, beads around her neck, some sort of cotton-straw garment tied around her hips, looking the camera straight on. With scenery and all.
Although this class happened over a year ago, that image I photoshopped in my head haunts me to this day. So does the fear that not only my boobs will be deflated and hanging more than they were before but that one will hang all the way down to my hip.
I must admit, however, that the fear of the sagging boob is as old as my boobs. As soon as my prepubescent fat turned into breast tissue way back at the age of 12 or so, I had these nigthmares that unless I wear a bra all the time (well not during the night) that my breasts will eventually sag to my hips.
Luckily this hasn't happened yet.
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Milk: An Unexpected Turn of Events
One day, it seems, is all it took. Mr. Meh gladly nursed this morning at 5 am. He nursed a lot, I must say, and then drank some milk, real milk (in my attempt to put him back to bed to get him to sleep for another hour or so.) It didn't work. Something was bothering him so he was up since 5 am....
Apparently he drank more milk during the day. Some 15 ounces in total (including the 5 I gave him this morning.)
When I returned home this evening, I just caught him getting out of the bathtub. Wrapped in his ducky towel, he was all smiles when he saw me (no immediate wailing and rushing to nurse to calm down....probably because his hair was dry). We cuddled and played with my necklace.
Then we started getting a bit cranky....I tried to get him to nurse. He kept turning his head away. He didn't want any milk. By the time I dressed him in his jammies, it was an all out wailing. Again, I tried to pull him in to nurse. Nope. He didn't want anything to do with it. He kept turning away from me.
I was a bit shocked and slightly humored.
Then a bottle of (cows') milk was brought up and presented to him. He took it eagerly, gladly and I whisked him off to bed.
I knew my boobs would eventually be replaced with commercially prepared cows' milk. But one day? That's all it took? I didn't think I would be so replacable, so quickly, so easily.
On the positive side, if it will be this easy (there must be a catch somewhere), then all the fretting I've been feeling over the last few months will be in vain, which is good. Good for Ivan, but not good for me. I already know that I'll miss nursing him. (Who knew a year ago, 3 days to a year before he was born, that today I would feel this and be writing this, that my mommy gene would become so strong.)
But what will happen to my boobs now? Will they remain uneven? He nursed a lot this morning on one side, so that boob is a bit smaller and lighter than the other, which I expected he would empty this evening.
Am I doomed to a permanent boob uneveness with my left boob being smaller and more deflated than the right one?
Apparently he drank more milk during the day. Some 15 ounces in total (including the 5 I gave him this morning.)
When I returned home this evening, I just caught him getting out of the bathtub. Wrapped in his ducky towel, he was all smiles when he saw me (no immediate wailing and rushing to nurse to calm down....probably because his hair was dry). We cuddled and played with my necklace.
Then we started getting a bit cranky....I tried to get him to nurse. He kept turning his head away. He didn't want any milk. By the time I dressed him in his jammies, it was an all out wailing. Again, I tried to pull him in to nurse. Nope. He didn't want anything to do with it. He kept turning away from me.
I was a bit shocked and slightly humored.
Then a bottle of (cows') milk was brought up and presented to him. He took it eagerly, gladly and I whisked him off to bed.
I knew my boobs would eventually be replaced with commercially prepared cows' milk. But one day? That's all it took? I didn't think I would be so replacable, so quickly, so easily.
On the positive side, if it will be this easy (there must be a catch somewhere), then all the fretting I've been feeling over the last few months will be in vain, which is good. Good for Ivan, but not good for me. I already know that I'll miss nursing him. (Who knew a year ago, 3 days to a year before he was born, that today I would feel this and be writing this, that my mommy gene would become so strong.)
But what will happen to my boobs now? Will they remain uneven? He nursed a lot this morning on one side, so that boob is a bit smaller and lighter than the other, which I expected he would empty this evening.
Am I doomed to a permanent boob uneveness with my left boob being smaller and more deflated than the right one?
Battling Sunday night dread and blahs!
For years, I've suffered from a serious case of Sunday night dread. You know, what to do with that evening, with the feeling that another week has ended, that another week, another Monday are around the corner....It wasn't just the case of Monday blues and a job dissafisfaction (on the whole, I've like my jobs so far), but more of this deeper existentialist sense of another week is beginning, of where is my life going, ......
I've got to say, since I've gotten married three years ago (well, really a year and a half ago, but we moved into the house three years ago) and especially since Mr. Meh was born a year ago, this sense of Sunday night dread has abated a bit (although I'm as anxious as ever as to what am I doing professionally, where is my professional life going, whether I'm achieving my goals -- no --, what are my goals,.....). I guess Andy and I are feeling the sense of Sunday night dread together and the dread has been downgrated to blahs.
So tonight, I had a marvelous idea. We've both been sick for the last 5, 6 days and in the meantime, the house started to look really, well, untidy. So tonight, we got this post-sickness surge to clean the house, and not just to vaccuum and sweep the floors and rugs, but do projects that have been on the list of to do things, such as cleaning out the garage. And since we were doing it together, we got a lot of accomplished in unison and the whole chore aspect really didn't seem to matter.
This got me thinking. We have to be at home after 7 pm anyway, as Mr. Meh is in bed. So instead of watching TV on Sunday night (there is always another Buffy or Angel or Law and Order episode to watch), we can clean the house and cook a week's worth of healthy meals, while enjoying ourselves over wine.
Granted, it's usually Andy who does the cooking. (I'm the cleaner upper). But instead of doing it after work, after he walks Mariposa, why not do a big batch of food on Sunday night that we just have to heat up during the week.
Yes, I know this is quite a novel idea, one that has never been suggested by any of the housekeeping or women's magazines, but this time I've actually found a good personal reason why try to implement this. I end up cleaning the house at night anyway, because I hate to spend day time doing it (because they it really feels like a chore), so why not make a Sunday night out of it.
It would be much more productive and efficient, and it would definitely beat the Sunday night blahs.
I've got to say, since I've gotten married three years ago (well, really a year and a half ago, but we moved into the house three years ago) and especially since Mr. Meh was born a year ago, this sense of Sunday night dread has abated a bit (although I'm as anxious as ever as to what am I doing professionally, where is my professional life going, whether I'm achieving my goals -- no --, what are my goals,.....). I guess Andy and I are feeling the sense of Sunday night dread together and the dread has been downgrated to blahs.
So tonight, I had a marvelous idea. We've both been sick for the last 5, 6 days and in the meantime, the house started to look really, well, untidy. So tonight, we got this post-sickness surge to clean the house, and not just to vaccuum and sweep the floors and rugs, but do projects that have been on the list of to do things, such as cleaning out the garage. And since we were doing it together, we got a lot of accomplished in unison and the whole chore aspect really didn't seem to matter.
This got me thinking. We have to be at home after 7 pm anyway, as Mr. Meh is in bed. So instead of watching TV on Sunday night (there is always another Buffy or Angel or Law and Order episode to watch), we can clean the house and cook a week's worth of healthy meals, while enjoying ourselves over wine.
Granted, it's usually Andy who does the cooking. (I'm the cleaner upper). But instead of doing it after work, after he walks Mariposa, why not do a big batch of food on Sunday night that we just have to heat up during the week.
Yes, I know this is quite a novel idea, one that has never been suggested by any of the housekeeping or women's magazines, but this time I've actually found a good personal reason why try to implement this. I end up cleaning the house at night anyway, because I hate to spend day time doing it (because they it really feels like a chore), so why not make a Sunday night out of it.
It would be much more productive and efficient, and it would definitely beat the Sunday night blahs.
Tuesday, February 5, 2008
Milk
A few days ago, we bought real milk (organic, full fat, cow's milk) as we were really low on formula and we figured that he's almost one year old and that it's time to get him to drink milk.
Well, actually a stickler for rules and permissions, I was going to wait until we see the pediatrician for the one year visit on the 15th, but my dad insisted that Ivan should get milk now. So last week, he bought milk.
As if on que, Ivan, who's been very amenable to trying all sorts of new foods and eager to eat anything on his plate (well, less now, than when he was 9 months old. I guess, we have preferences now -- such as for avocado, cheerios and cheese -- and we're more likely to shun everything else) and who had absolutely no issues taking formula, in addition to breast milk, when he was 9 months old, refused.
Ivan adamantly refused to drink milk. We tried both the bottle and the sippy cup. (I don't recall if I've written about this one, but ever since Lisa M. suggested I get those disposable, clear, multicolored First Year sippy cups, he's taken an interest and a liking to them. He'll drink both water and juice, especially that juice Naked. Loves that juice. He also loves to fling the sippy cup around while sitting in the high chair so that the liquid gets squirted all over the floor and rug, but oh well.)
On the milk front, however, we ended up bying another jar of formula, much to my dad's dismay. However, good thing we did because....
No luck with the bottle, or the sippy cup. We tried several times. Actually I tried, like twice, my dad tried more often since it was his personal mission to get Ivan to drink milk. But to no avail.
Good thing we bought that other jar, big jar, of formula. As of today, we're half way through that jar.
But then today (I stayed home yesterday and today because I'm quite sick with a cold) we tried again. I tried giving him some milk in his bottle from which he drinks formula. Again adamantly refused. I tried several times during the day. Nothing. Absolute refusal.
His sleeping and feeding schedule has been off for the last few days. I don't know whether it's because he's probably a bit sick from Andy and myself, or whether he's teething (that seems to be the blanket answer for all possible baby related ills -- just like for women, it's always "it must be your period," or "it's just your hormones" if it's not that time of the month.)
But in any case, he was extra cranky today, that by the time I went to give him his bath at his usual time of 6 pm, he was too cranky to even be bathed. At least that's what I thought. He was screaming when I put him in the bathtub and was fine as soon as I took him out. So I tried putting him in again, just to see. As soon as his feet hit the water, he started screaming as if I were torturing him. At first I thought the water was too hot, but the water was fine. It just must have been the fact that he was super tired.
I try to stick to what the books and the pediatrician said: "he's got to be on a schedule. If he misses a nap, then keep him up until the next nap......" I try real hard to listen to their advice.
My father, on the other hand, thinks these books and the doctors are full of fads, which come and go, and he doesn't buy into them. After all, 'he knows best." He keeps saying he's done all this research, that he's reading more on the topic that I have (which is probably true, the man does know something about everything, which has always been the bane of my existence growing up).
If it were up to my dad, Ivan would be in bed at 5 pm every day for the night. The fact that he'd then get up at 4:30, 5, or 5:30 pm doesn't really concern my dad. After all it's my problem.....And the baby shouldn't suffer because I'm too lazy to get up in the morning, he tells me. I mean, what on earth am I going to do with the baby at 5 am.
So after the super quick bath today, I toweled him off and he nursed a bit to calm down. He usually must nurse as soon as he's out of the tub, mainly because he usually spends all of the bath tub standing up playing with the faucet so he's super cold when I actually take him out of the tub to dry him off. Then I dressed him in his jammies and put him to bed.
For the last few months, he's been going to bed with the bottle. (This habit was introduced a few months by my dad and Andy on those nights when I didn't make it home in time to bathe him. Now it's become a ritual. And I already dread the thought of how to wean him off this habit. Not to mention that it's apparently bad for his teeth. All four of those sharp teeth. But in any case, that a fight for further down the line.)
Tonight, instead of giving him the formula, we sneaked in the milk. And he took it. Started drinking it pronto.....I laid him to bed as I usually do and there was not a single peep out of him. A couple of hours later I went to check in on him. He drank all the 4, 5 ounces that were in the bottle.
Now, let's see what happens tomorrow!
Oh yes, apparently if we could get him to drink goat's milk ("hm, where do we buy that", he wondered..."whole foods," I knew) that would be even better because goat's milk is the best, as my dad informed Andy this evening.
Well, actually a stickler for rules and permissions, I was going to wait until we see the pediatrician for the one year visit on the 15th, but my dad insisted that Ivan should get milk now. So last week, he bought milk.
As if on que, Ivan, who's been very amenable to trying all sorts of new foods and eager to eat anything on his plate (well, less now, than when he was 9 months old. I guess, we have preferences now -- such as for avocado, cheerios and cheese -- and we're more likely to shun everything else) and who had absolutely no issues taking formula, in addition to breast milk, when he was 9 months old, refused.
Ivan adamantly refused to drink milk. We tried both the bottle and the sippy cup. (I don't recall if I've written about this one, but ever since Lisa M. suggested I get those disposable, clear, multicolored First Year sippy cups, he's taken an interest and a liking to them. He'll drink both water and juice, especially that juice Naked. Loves that juice. He also loves to fling the sippy cup around while sitting in the high chair so that the liquid gets squirted all over the floor and rug, but oh well.)
On the milk front, however, we ended up bying another jar of formula, much to my dad's dismay. However, good thing we did because....
No luck with the bottle, or the sippy cup. We tried several times. Actually I tried, like twice, my dad tried more often since it was his personal mission to get Ivan to drink milk. But to no avail.
Good thing we bought that other jar, big jar, of formula. As of today, we're half way through that jar.
But then today (I stayed home yesterday and today because I'm quite sick with a cold) we tried again. I tried giving him some milk in his bottle from which he drinks formula. Again adamantly refused. I tried several times during the day. Nothing. Absolute refusal.
His sleeping and feeding schedule has been off for the last few days. I don't know whether it's because he's probably a bit sick from Andy and myself, or whether he's teething (that seems to be the blanket answer for all possible baby related ills -- just like for women, it's always "it must be your period," or "it's just your hormones" if it's not that time of the month.)
But in any case, he was extra cranky today, that by the time I went to give him his bath at his usual time of 6 pm, he was too cranky to even be bathed. At least that's what I thought. He was screaming when I put him in the bathtub and was fine as soon as I took him out. So I tried putting him in again, just to see. As soon as his feet hit the water, he started screaming as if I were torturing him. At first I thought the water was too hot, but the water was fine. It just must have been the fact that he was super tired.
I try to stick to what the books and the pediatrician said: "he's got to be on a schedule. If he misses a nap, then keep him up until the next nap......" I try real hard to listen to their advice.
My father, on the other hand, thinks these books and the doctors are full of fads, which come and go, and he doesn't buy into them. After all, 'he knows best." He keeps saying he's done all this research, that he's reading more on the topic that I have (which is probably true, the man does know something about everything, which has always been the bane of my existence growing up).
If it were up to my dad, Ivan would be in bed at 5 pm every day for the night. The fact that he'd then get up at 4:30, 5, or 5:30 pm doesn't really concern my dad. After all it's my problem.....And the baby shouldn't suffer because I'm too lazy to get up in the morning, he tells me. I mean, what on earth am I going to do with the baby at 5 am.
So after the super quick bath today, I toweled him off and he nursed a bit to calm down. He usually must nurse as soon as he's out of the tub, mainly because he usually spends all of the bath tub standing up playing with the faucet so he's super cold when I actually take him out of the tub to dry him off. Then I dressed him in his jammies and put him to bed.
For the last few months, he's been going to bed with the bottle. (This habit was introduced a few months by my dad and Andy on those nights when I didn't make it home in time to bathe him. Now it's become a ritual. And I already dread the thought of how to wean him off this habit. Not to mention that it's apparently bad for his teeth. All four of those sharp teeth. But in any case, that a fight for further down the line.)
Tonight, instead of giving him the formula, we sneaked in the milk. And he took it. Started drinking it pronto.....I laid him to bed as I usually do and there was not a single peep out of him. A couple of hours later I went to check in on him. He drank all the 4, 5 ounces that were in the bottle.
Now, let's see what happens tomorrow!
Oh yes, apparently if we could get him to drink goat's milk ("hm, where do we buy that", he wondered..."whole foods," I knew) that would be even better because goat's milk is the best, as my dad informed Andy this evening.
Little Climber
Mr. Meh has become quite a little climber, all in order to reach things. Today he was standing up holding onto Mariposa's cage, like he usually does, trying to grab something he wasn't supposed to have and that I put out of his reach on the top of the cage. (I forget now what the forbidden item was).
I walked over to the kitchen to throw something in the trash can, and by the time I came back (literally two seconds), he had climbed on the cage -- on the third rung -- in order to reach the forbitten item.
I've seen him trying to climb other things, but I've got to say, I was quite surprised and taken back by his ability to do so.
Everyday, it's something else to look out for.
He's also trying quite hard to stand up on his toes to see better and reach things out of his reach. So cute.
I walked over to the kitchen to throw something in the trash can, and by the time I came back (literally two seconds), he had climbed on the cage -- on the third rung -- in order to reach the forbitten item.
I've seen him trying to climb other things, but I've got to say, I was quite surprised and taken back by his ability to do so.
Everyday, it's something else to look out for.
He's also trying quite hard to stand up on his toes to see better and reach things out of his reach. So cute.
First Fever
Over the weekend, Ivan got his first fever (at least the first we had actually measured). 100.1F. It was all thanks to daddy, who came home sick on Wednesday/Thursday and started blowing some serious snot out of his nose. Ivan got the fever on Friday or Saturday night -- my memory is a bit hazy. And I succumbed to it on Saturday day. Serious headache and a nose-load of snot. I didn't go to work today because I felt so bad and had a fever. Not a big one, 37.5C but still. I'm contemplating whether to go in tomorrow.
Knock on wood, Ivan just had the fever without the actual snotty nose part. I know it happens to babies all the time, but since he doesn't know how to blow the snot out, I dread to think what that must be like for a baby. Absolutely miserable. Especially since they can't understand what's wrong with them.
I have to admit that we've been very lucky so far that Ivan hasn't gotten sick yet. It's almost been a full year and no serious sickness yet. It has to be due to the fact that he's not in daycare and exposed to other baby germs. I know baby germs are in hovering in our future, but the longer we can stave them off the better.
Knock on wood, Ivan just had the fever without the actual snotty nose part. I know it happens to babies all the time, but since he doesn't know how to blow the snot out, I dread to think what that must be like for a baby. Absolutely miserable. Especially since they can't understand what's wrong with them.
I have to admit that we've been very lucky so far that Ivan hasn't gotten sick yet. It's almost been a full year and no serious sickness yet. It has to be due to the fact that he's not in daycare and exposed to other baby germs. I know baby germs are in hovering in our future, but the longer we can stave them off the better.
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