As promised ...

Here are some recent pics of Kid A, including the adorable bath photos ...

I'm pretty new at posting photos, so I'm going to play with the layouts a bit.

She's not quite 10 weeks old in this photo, but as you can see, she loves to look into the mirror at the beginning of the bath. The grins are incredible. Tonight's smiles were even better than these, but, alas, no camera. Just as well.

Here she is, reppin' the town where she spent most of her gestation. Oaktown in the hizzouse!
Eleven weeks old. And, you can't see it, but she's sporting a fauxhawk. It's true. But with all that hair, you'd do it occasionally, too!

Total knockout. She's getting so strong. She rolled over once this weekend, from her tummy to her back, but hasn't been able to replicate the feat yet. This is from today, her 12-week birthday.

... and this is three minutes later. Oh, it's hard to be a baby.

12 weeks and 10 years

Today is our 10-year wedding anniversary. TM and I married in our twenties (he was 23, I was 25, so you know how old we are now). Tomorrow, my mom is coming to babysit Kid A for a few hours in the afternoon, so that we can go to lunch and a matinee. It's our first outing for pleasure without Kid A since she was born. As much as I'm looking forward to it, it also seems a bit strange that I am voluntarily leaving her to go enjoy myself for a few hours. I know that balance and self-care are important, and it has been something of a rough week, and, as I say, I'm looking forward to our celebratory afternoon (tame as it is), but still. It feels a little weird.

On Sunday, Kid A will be 12 weeks old. This week, she has been fussier than normal. It started last Sunday, when we went to a baby shower for our friends; Kid A cried a lot, most of the afternoon. TM was feeling sort of under the weather all weekend, and Kid A looked a bit snotty on Sunday, so I was worried that she was coming down with her first cold. And pretty much all week, she's been a little off. Her runny nose never got too bad, though -- I only noticed it a few times over the course of the week -- but she's definitely been fussier than she had been for the last 2-3 weeks, and her sleeping rhythm was quite a bit different. But this evening, when I got home from work, she spent a good amount of time enjoying her hands (she studies them pretty intently, and they seem to be one of her favorite diversions these days), and she even gave me quite a few smiles, which hadn't been the norm for our evenings this week. It was great to see her smiling again, and I suspect she really wasn't feeling all that well for most of the week, so it's so nice to have her back to her calmer, more grown-up self.

Last night was pretty rough, though. She'd been going to sleep for the night between 7:30 and 8:30 pretty consistently, and last evening I put her to bed around 7:30. I was quite pleased, for two reasons: I was exhausted, and I was really looking forward to watching Survivor and maybe even the first hour of Grey's Anatomy. Ten minutes into Survivor, Kid A woke up and started to cry. I went upstairs and fed her, hoping that a few minutes of nursing would put her back to sleep (not unreasonable, since that's often the pattern), but "a few minutes of nursing" turned into 40 minutes of nursing, and rocking, and putting her down, and her beginning to fuss immediately and so starting the cycle all over again. I was completely wiped out (I had to do a lot of driving this week, and I desperately need a pair of sunglasses; I think my eyes got a little burned), and hungry, and the cumulative effect of adjusting to a life where every minute of my day is done for or given to someone else was really starting to get to me. TM was great, and helped out a lot, but Kid A did not successfully go down until around 10:30, when I finally got her to nurse lying down with me. We fell asleep together, and she slept great until 3:30 this morning, when I fed her again and swaddled her and finally put her in her own little bed between us.

I think a lot about whether Kid A's fussiness is created by the way we parent her, or is just the result of her own, innate temperament. I am about 75% convinced it's her temperament, because who wants to think that as a parent, they're creating the "problem", but there is that 25% that wonders whether she'd be easier if I was more laid-back about parenting her. But the answer to that question, for me, is "cry it out," and I just don't believe in that, at least, not yet. For one thing, even medical professionals say that you can't spoil a baby in the first three months, and so I do believe I'm parenting in a highly responsive way. I believe that I am following her cues and her lead about what she wants and needs, and not imposing my own will on her. And for Kid A, "cry it out" just doesn't work -- she doesn't yet self-soothe, she just gets more and more worked up and upset. She's unhappy and can't calm herself down, and I hate it, so I try to help her. We'll see if, in 3 or 6 months, whether she still needs the same level of intervention to soothe and to sleep. If so, maybe I'll have to revisit my working philosophy of parenting. But for now, even though it's demanding and intensive, I think it's working.

We discovered Mylicon this week. Our day care providers had suggested it in the first or second week, but I didn't think we really needed it. But Tuesday they reported that she'd had two bottles of formula* -- twice as much as she'd ever gotten before -- and she just seemed really uncomfortable. She was screaming her fool head off, and arching her back, and acting like she wanted to nurse but wouldn't, so I sent TM off to Long's for the Mylicon (it's an anti-gas over-the-counter medicine), and it's been quite the discovery. I think she's been gassy for quite some time, because that stuff really seems to work for her. Thankfully, we don't need to use it at every feeding, but the handful of times that she gets it in a day really seems to help.

* Since I've been working, despite pumping 2-3 times during my work day, plus pumping at night and in the mornings, I am not producing enough to feed her during her hours in day care. I am glad that she will be starting on rice cereal in a month or so, because she's been getting at least 1 bottle of formula every day for the past 2-3 weeks. I also think we're going to have to start feeding her a bottle of formula each day on the weekends, too -- I think part of her fussiness last weekend might have been because she was hungry. I'm still surprised that I really cannot produce enough to meet all of her nutritional needs myself -- I could grow this big baby but I can't feed her sufficiently? It's just crazy to me. At this point, I'm just hoping that I can keep producing long enough to supply her with at least some breast milk until she's 6 months old. I gave up, a week or two ago, on the idea that I was going to be able to produce enough that she wouldn't need supplemental formula, and it's been really nice to let go of that pressure. I've even, in the last couple of days, stopped pumping before and after work (unless she's fed lightly and I need to). We'll see.

I do plan to post those bath pictures soon, but I haven't uploaded them to my computer yet. I'm hoping to get to it this weekend, so look for a short post of primarily (exclusively?) photos in the next couple of days. And maybe someday I'll get a chance to post about work! That, too, has been pretty intense, which is perhaps another reason I was so fried this week. And with that, I'm off to bed!

Settling in

Kid A is turning 11 weeks old tomorrow. It's hard to believe how quickly it's going. I realized today that she's going to grow up so quickly. Everyone who's ever had kids says how fast it goes, and I felt the first twinges of that a few hours ago. Nothing specific, no major milestones reached today, just the sense that she won't need us anymore, all too soon. I suppose that realization might come in handy when I feel frustrated about not having "me" time.

She's getting a lot easier to please these days. I'm not sure whether that's due to her getting older, or spending time in day care, or a little of both. She's also going down for the night much MUCH more easily, which is a big relief. We've developed a little routine: sometime between 6 and 7 pm, I give her a bath, which she LOVES. TM took some pictures of her in the bath last night; I'll try to post them here soon. Her biggest smiles of the day are when she's in the tub. I used to bathe her in the kitchen -- her little plastic bathtub fits into our kitchen sink -- but for the past couple of weeks, I've taken the tub upstairs and bathed her on the bathroom counter. Even though having to haul it from the tub to the counter and back again to fill and drain it is a little less convenient, this was a tremendously great idea, because she loves watching the bath proceedings in the mirror. In fact, every time I put her in the tub, she looks into the mirror, at me, and gives the biggest, happiest smiles I've ever seen. Tonight, she gave me at least half a dozen of these huge, heart-melting grins. It was awesome. The photos don't do it justice, but as I say, I'll try to get some up soon.

Oh yeah, the routine. So after the bath, I get her dressed, and I've even started brushing her hair (she has so much of it!). If she's upset from getting dressed, I'll nurse her, and then we play on her blanket on the floor of her room until she's fussy. Then I nurse her (again), and rock her until she goes to sleep. She often wakes up for another quick feeding in an hour, and then she's down until her first middle-of-the-night feeding. I'm really pleased that the routine is being established so quickly.

I'm also more and more pleased with our day care providers. (No harm in referring to them by [real] name, so that's what I will do.) On Wednesday evening, Carmen sent home a couple of small containers of Peruvian food for TM and me -- so sweet! There was a chicken and rice dish, and a very interesting potato dish that had a custard-y, egg-y sauce that had a slight kick to it. And when I dropped Kid A off on Friday morning, Eugene commented that she had had a wonderful morning on Thursday, and had napped for a good long stretch. He also said, "She doesn't like noise," as in when she's napping. I know it's a super small thing, but it felt great, actually, knowing that they are learning her specific likes and dislikes, and working with them.

I'm becoming more suburban by the week: I took Kid A shopping again today. I wanted to get a bag for work, one that I can fit a full-sized notepad into, along with the various forms and such that I will need to carry with me when I'm actually doing the work. I typed "TJ Maxx" into my Garmin (a.k.a Rhonda, as in "Help Me, Rhonda"), and several locations popped up. I selected one that seemed like it would be sort of on the way to my next stops, and off we went. I'm not saying where it was, because it was AMAZING. It was the nicest, cleanest, best-stocked, most organized discount store I've ever been to. Let me know if you want to go, and I'll take you. But otherwise, I'm keeping it my little secret. Man, did they have some good stuff. But Kid A was fussy by the time I'd picked out my bag. I wanted to look at some winter clothes for her, but she pretty well lost it. I did find a cute little cool-weather hooded jacket, though. Sadly, it's pink, but it'll be warm, and it will fit her ... at least for another month or two!

This week, I have to make a 126-mile round trip, two days in a row, for training. That made me tired, just typing it. I'll have to make sure I load up the car with some good CDs (thank goodness TM bought a bunch of new albums the last couple of months). And I'll probably be making some phone calls ... look out, you just might get one!

Cliffs notes

Ok, a whirlwind post, because I am tired and want to go to bed, and because Kid A could wake up any minute, and I'm gone again. This is about as bullet-point-y as one of my posts is going to get.

Dad update. Let's see, he went home on Wednesday (the day his 100% Medicare coverage ran out), and is still battling an infection in his foot (feet? and legs?), and is still in a lot of pain. He came up with his own, very comprehensive, plan for help and support (the very nice man and his daughter -- complicated, and unnecessary for me to go into details), which is a good reminder for me in my work that folks can almost always come up with better plans for themselves than I could. I just have to get out of the way! Apparently, though, one of the pins in his ankle is wiggling around a fair bit, which is contributing to at least the pain and possibly the infection, so the surgeon may have to remove the pin(s) and put the foot in a cast. The other worrisome issue is the mountain of debt hanging over his head, and whether he's in good enough shape mentally to deal with it. LB reports that 1) the realtor is supposed to come to the house soon to measure and appraise, so it looks like Dad really is moving forward on that, and 2) the very nice man's daughter is going to help Dad prioritize the big ol' spreadsheet of debt that I worked up for him, so hopefully Dad's going to have some debt-wrangling help. He's not very good with money. Oh, and his dog came home today! I'm sure the two of them are super happy to be reunited.

Kid A and I had a lovely day together yesterday. I needed some new shoes, and I had to return a defective baby monitor, so we went shopping in Walnut Creek. Kid A did great. She only lost it once in Target -- the electronics section was way too much for her, so loud and busy and overstimulating -- and she held it together really well while I browsed the outdoor mall for clothes for her and tried on shoes. She became inconsolable just as I was paying for my shoes, so I headed out of there as fast as the salesman would let me, and whisked her up to Nordstrom to feed her in the 3rd floor bathroom. It was a lovely outing, and I realized that shopping is actually a great place to take a 10-week-old baby, because there's just so much for her to look at and be distracted by. Or maybe she just really likes shopping, in which case I'm really in trouble.

Work. It seems as though I have been assigned to my permanent position, and the fact that I know about it is highly unorthodox. Typically, new workers are not notified of their positions until the very end of the 8 weeks of training; tomorrow is the beginning of week 3. So although I am not counting on anything, I have been told that I will be in the Emergency Response unit in the district office in which I interned last year. While ER was not my first choice of unit, the district office was much more important to me, and I am thrilled to be there. In addition, I am simply thrilled to know where I'll be working, and in what capacity. It makes the training much more relevant, because I am looking at everything through the lens of an ER worker. I know that's partly why they don't tell new workers until the end, because they don't want them to tune out the other parts of training that they think won't be relevant. Oh well. Too bad, if they decide to move me to a different assignment! But I'm hopeful that things are settled.

Ok, last story and then I'm off to feed the cats and go to bed. I mentioned in an earlier post that I had a funny story about pumping while out in the field. So this other breastfeeding mother and I are out investigating a referral at a hospital. Because it involves a newborn, we are in the labor and delivery wing of a small regional hospital. It's approaching 4 hours since I last pumped, and I need to do so again, so we ask the staff if there's someplace for me to pump. They're nice enough to let me use an empty labor and delivery room, so off I go. I have this hands-free contraption that I can hook up to my bra, so I'm sitting there, getting milked, and I drop something. I lean over to get it, and I spill milk on my skirt! Ack! So I get up, still pumping, and go over to the sink, and start trying to clean up my skirt, so I don't walk around all day with a big old milk spot on myself (and mostly so I don't smell like milk all day). Ok, I'm pretty well cleaned up, and I head back over and I notice that something else is on the floor. I've learned my lesson, right? Don't lean over. So I decide that it's perfectly okay to squat down to get it, but unfortunately I have to lean over just enough to spill milk on myself AGAIN. Genius.

By the way, thanks for all the sweet offers for weekend babysitting. We will definitely be hitting you all up in a few months. Right now, my time with Kid A on the weekends is just too precious to pass up, and it's working for now to try to "do it all" in 48 hours. Eventually, though, I will be just too tired to do it all myself, and I really appreciate knowing that I can rely on you for help! I feel so lucky that Kid A has such an awesome village, with all manner of cool and interesting and wonderful aunties and uncles (and Nanas!).

TGI (almost) F

I have survived my first four days of full-time work. My first week is almost over. It has been both good and very very hard. Surprisingly, dropping Kid A off with the sitters has not been the hardest part. I certainly don't like it very much, but it's been easier than I expected. The tough stuff has been pumping (brutal) and managing the evenings.

Pumping sucks for two reasons. One, it's time-consuming and uncomfortable. Pumping for 15 minutes ends up taking half an hour: getting set up, doing the deed, and then cleaning the equipment and storing the milk ... bleh. No fun at all. And because it's a new job, even though everyone's been super supportive, I still feel self-conscious and awkward about how much time it takes. The other reason pumping sucks is because I'm not producing very much milk. The sitters have just barely been getting through each day with what I'm giving them, and I'm having to pump in the mornings before Kid A wakes up just to get enough to leave with her each day, but today they had to give her formula at the end of the day. I finally had to readjust my philosophy on pumping, and I feel somewhat better about it. Rather than carry the expectation (and the pressure) that I am pumping in order to feed her while I am away, I have decided that
I am really pumping in order to protect my milk supply so that I can continue to nurse her whenever I am with her. The fact that I am able to leave some of my milk with her while I am gone is just a bonus. Mind you, I am taking fenugreek supplements and drinking mother's milk tea, so I haven't completely given up on the hope that I will begin to produce more and be able to provide all she needs ... But as one of my colleagues pointed out, she'll be on rice cereal soon, and then additional solids after that, so it's just a few more months of pressure. Which, of course, I am no longer feeling. Of course.

Ok, the evenings. The evenings have been hard because I've been trying to care for Kid A, who has been consistently fussy at night, as well as trying to get myself ready for work the next day. And pump. And I'm now way more sleep-deprived than I had been up to now, because I used to be able to make up for interrupted night sleep by sleeping in until 8 or 9 every morning. Now I'm up between 4:30 and 5:30, depending on where I need to be that day. Tonight, though, I came home with very low expectations of what I would "accomplish." Bathe, feed, and otherwise care for the baby, and feed myself dinner ... and a much-longed-for bowl of ice cream, which I had gotten into the habit of having every night while pregnant, but had not been able to eat for the past four nights. And in fact, it was a much better evening. I bathed, and played with, and nursed Kid A, and then took her for a long walk in the Moby, and she finally fell asleep. I came home and ate dinner, and started typing this post, and dished out my ice cream, and she woke up. Now TM is holding and rocking her, while I finish dessert, and I would say mission accomplished. :)

I have a very funny story about pumping in the field on my very first day, but that will have to wait. I think I'll probably only be able to post on the weekends for a while, at least until she's predictably and consistently going to bed at a certain time each night. So, more later. Stay tuned!

Kid A's Terrible, Horrible, No Good, Very Bad Day

Ok, maybe it wasn't as bad as all that. But still, a very rough day for the poor little kiddo.

I dropped her off at the sitters' yesterday morning, so I could go in for a couple of hours so as not to miss turning in all my paperwork to payroll (important in a new job). It was actually kind of fun -- the payroll ladies were quite a hoot. I was able to pick her up a little before 1 pm, and it turns out she had a great morning: spent some time in the swing, wasn't fussy except when she was hungry, all in all a good morning. Except she didn't really sleep; she only napped for 30 minutes or so. And of course, this was the afternoon of her 2-month pediatrician appointment, complete with her first round of vaccinations.

Ok, no problem, we can deal. Except we waited, and waited, and waited. And then we got into the exam room and waited some more. Finally, after 50 minutes, with Kid A throwing a complete fit for at least half of that time, I went out to the nurse who'd weighed and measured her and complained. The pediatrician came in shortly after that, very apologetic (there had been some gnarly complication with a spinal tumor [!!!]), and we ended up liking this one (the first ped we saw at Kaiser we didn't like at all). And then we had to wait some more for her shots. By then, no amount of nursing was going to distract her from her exhaustion, and she was alert, unhappy and overtired when she got stuck with three different needles. She screamed and screamed and screamed, and this was my first moment, as a parent, of unbearable helplessness. I was so proud of myself for not breaking down when I dropped her off at the sitters' in the morning, and although I did not cry while she screamed from pain, exhaustion and confusion, my heart broke completely. The worst was the first one, as I was trying to nurse her, and she was as comforted as she could be in her agitated state, and then the needle, and her eyes got huge, and then the scream. I felt horrible. I couldn't help but think of Laura, Jaime and Simon, and thinking, "What if this were something real?" No one should have to go through what they are going through. (Please read their blog and send them love, good thoughts and prayers.)

I love my little pumpkin so much. She slept in the car on the short ride home and, sure enough, woke up as soon as we got home ... and was in fine spirits for an hour or so. TM said, "Good thing babies have short memories." Agreed. I think that's partly why we survive as a species: pain fades, and with it, so does the memory of it.

Last thought: I realized, driving home from my brief appearance at work, that I like working. I don't think I would have been very good at, or very happy, being a SAHM for very long. I think it's wonderful, and in many ways, I wish I could do it. Ultimately, I like what I do, despite all the bad that goes along with it.

Briefly

So the first day of work was fine, nothing interesting to report, except that we got to go home a bit early, because we had to drive to a different town to do our LiveScans, scheduled for 3 pm. Thanks, trainer!

Kid A's first day of child care must have been fine (I did check in by phone at lunch, and TM got a full report when he picked her up, but beyond "She was fussy in the morning, and she really liked the swing," nothing was unusual or substantive), because she did not fuss -- AT ALL -- from the time we picked her up until the time she went to sleep for the night. And she went down for sleep so easily, we couldn't believe it. We thought either they had swapped her out for a different baby, or that they had worked some crazy Catholic voodoo on her. She really was like a different child. It was ... I don't even know what word to use to describe it. Crazy. Amazing. Unsettling. Unbelievable. Awesome. Maybe she would have been that way regardless -- maybe she's "growing up" and deciding that the world isn't so bad after all, or something -- but it was both cool and sad to see that she was okay. My ego is the teensiest bit bruised, knowing that she was okay without me. But I'm also pleased and relieved to know that she will be fine.

Not much to report on Dad. Spoke with the surgeon today; Dad's looking anemic, so they were going to check out a few things, maybe give him another transfusion. But the infection is improving, and they will probably send him to a (different) rehab in a few days. I am very slowly working on the business end of things, but progress is quite slow.

When I'm less tired and have a little more time, I'll write a bit about today's outing with Krista Is A Mom. Two urban mamas with their babes, hangin' in the beautiful 'burbs. We were lunching ladies. Shopping, too! So fun. Thanks, Krista!

Taking care of business

Yesterday's trip to visit Dad was both good and hard. Our first long trip with Kid A (two hours in the car), and I wish it could have been under more pleasant circumstances. Little Brother (hereafter "LB") and I had been communicating in the days leading up to the visit about strategies for dealing with the mountain of issues, and were on the same page about our "message": sell the house ASAP, find a foster home for the dog, figure out the financial situation, make sure he goes to the better rehab after the hospital stay.

We arrived in town around noon, a bit later than we'd hoped, and had some lunch with LB, then went to the hospital. We dispensed quickly with the small talk and got down to business, talking about realtors (Dad has been trying to sell the house himself, to save money), and selling his extra car, and selling his big, gas-guzzling diesel truck and getting him something smaller and more affordable. He actually did okay until we started talking about the neighbors' offer to have their sister foster the dog, and he panicked. It quickly became clear that he had no idea he'd been out of home for over three weeks -- he must have thought it had been just a few days, a week at most. He said, "It's sad, but that dog's all I've got left." After much discussion, and a real shutting-down on Dad's part, he relented, and agreed that the dog would be better off staying with people and other dogs until Dad was ready to take her back.

That was the hard part: forcing Dad to deal with the urgent, pressing business of the possibility of foreclosure, and the reality that he must sell his home immediately. I hope as few people as possible have to go through that, because even though LB and I have parented our Dad for a long time, this was some of the hardest stuff we've ever had to do. From there, though, the visit definitely improved. Dad needed his beard trimmed in the worst way, so LB had brought his trimmers, and I brushed off my hairdressing skills and whacked away. I think that helped his outlook a bit, and then TM brought Kid A back from their long walk and, after I fed her, Dad got a chance to hold his first grandchild, for the first time in a month. She was on her best behavior, too: no fussing, and even some big old smiles and grins at her grandpa. He seemed to be a lot happier after that, and I really hope that the visit from Kid A is the shot in the arm he needed.

Medically, he's doing okay: he's lucid and coherent, and was shocked to hear about his last three weeks, since most of what we told him he didn't remember happening. It's still rather unclear how the pin in his ankle "came out." He may have fallen again, and that may have jarred it and the IV loose. He claims he did not pull out the pin or the IV. He's got big bandages on both ankles; apparently, at some point in the last 3-5 days, one of the pins punctured his other ankle, and who knows how that happened. And both legs are infected, from the surgical and puncture wounds. But he is in the hospital and being well cared for. All reports are that the rehab he was in was a bad place. They've lost their license at least a couple of times. Probably a good thing that he needed immediate medical attention, because it got him out of there, but it's probably their fault that he got in that condition in the first place. Dad is talking lawsuit. We'll see.

So I've now got a plastic shopping bag full of bills to sift through, phone calls to make, etc. Fortunately, I have a bit of experience from last summer, dealing with similar matters for him. It's a bit more intense this time, though, and not just because of the baby and the new job. We've got to move fast if we want to save what little equity Dad's got left. The good news is that the housing market in his immediate area has recently improved dramatically, and the elementary school across the street from his house has reopened this year, after several years of disuse. So we're hopeful.

I know this has been a long post already, but I want to write a little bit about Kid A, too, before I head off to do other things. It's certainly happier than writing about Dad, and I want to write about her regularly, so that I don't forget stuff. I know that childhood goes fast, and there are all sorts of new things happening all the time, and I have a terrible memory, so I want to capture as much as I can. Just in the last 24 hours, I am amazed at how different her hands and arms feel to me. She has always been a solid, big girl, but there's a new density to her hands and arms that indicates to me a new level of muscle tone and dexterity. Her hands feel bigger, her arms more solid. And I'm noticing that her arm movements seem to have more purpose, are less incidental. It's really exciting. She plays a lot every day, and is really interested in the world around her ... so much so, that she needs a fair amount of help getting to sleep! She gives most of her best smiles to everyone else -- including her toy that she plays with every day -- but we get so much sweet quality time together every day that I really don't mind. I know the smiles that are just for me will come in time.

Tomorrow I go in for my first day of work, and Kid A will have her first full day of child care. Then we'll dive in next week for five days in a row. I know she'll be fine, and eventually, I will, too. Wish me sanity and perspective!