Every Day a New Discovery

This week you discovered your hands. You were sitting in your high chair, and I was feeding you dinner. You like feeding yourself finger foods, so we try to incorporate some waffles or pieces of bread, something you can grab in every meal. After you successfully maneuvered an item into your mouth, your moving fingers caught your attention. You chewed slowly, examining the hand that had caught your attention, the right one. You moved your fingers gently, and reached your left hand over to touch them. You turned your right hand backwards, and then frontwards again, checking it out thoroughly. You waved it a little bit and then examined your fingers again. I was in awe watching you, imagining the wheels turning inside that big head of yours, realizing for the first time that that hand is yours and you can use it as you wish.

You are scooting across the floor, using your hands to pull you forward while your big toe helps bring up the rear. You have made progress in this technique over the past 10 days or so, and you lift your butt up and position yourself on your knees, but you haven't graduated to full crawler status yet. We're in no hurry, as you are so adventurous and fearless, that once you figure out how to move quickly, you're gonna take off. You are also "cruising" furniture; holding on while standing up and working your way around each piece slowly. Your favorite place to do this is on the ottoman in your room, which I covered with a blanket that has a big fuzzy doggy head on it. You can't pull yourself up there yet, but once I position you in front of him, you do your little crackle laugh (almost sounds like a cough) and grab him by the ears and nuzzle him affectionately. Of course you also still have to taste everything, as part of your normal development. I don't think that fuzzy doggy tastes too spectacular, though.

Today I am taking you to your aunt Amy's for an overnight visit, while your Dad and I go out to dinner and to a Halloween Party. This is the same party we went to last year where I incorporated you into my Humpty Dumpty costume, which everyone loved. You were adorable even before you came out! You are going to be a monkey for Halloween, and I am going to bring your costume to Amy's so you can play dress-up with your cousins, who I am sure are anxious for the holiday to arrive. Tomorrow we are going to Alpine Village in Torrance for Oktoberfest, which I know you will love. Anytime we take you among crowds of people with music and great, happy energy, you light up like a Christmas Tree.

At nine months old, you are truly the most wonderous thing that has ever happened to me! I love you with all my heart!

Five Months

Dear Matthew,

Tomorrow you turn five months old, and this is my first entry in over two months. When people tell you that your child is going to grow up fast, they mean FAST. Compounded by my return to work and our limited time together, you are growing at a pace I can barely keep up with. Every day after I have fed you your breakfast - which you still take on the boob, thank you very much - I hold you up so you can stand on your own two feet and ask you, "How much did you grow last night?" You always respond with a smile and an outward look, as if you might have some idea of how many wonders in the world are waiting for you out there.

So much has happened since I last wrote about you, I regret that I haven't documented more of it. There was your baptism when you were just three months old, for which your Godmother Josie came down from Alaska, and a party that was attended by all of your family and just a few close friends. It was such a special day, and came on the heels of a wonderful evening I spent playing rock and roll with your Dad and Grandpa. I am so glad that your other Godmother, Aunt Amy, talked me into doing a real Catholic baptism for you, because the experience was such a special one and felt truly reverent and sacred. More than once I held back tears that day, and not just from sleep deprivation, but because you, my first born son and light of my life, were dedicated to God and Jesus in the most perfect way. Even in the photos it was said that God's light was shining upon you.








My return to work has got us in a new routine that involves two days at a great day care facility, book-ended by a day with Daddy and a day with your Grandpa. Every other Friday I am off work and I relish spending the whole day with you uninterrupted, as we go shopping together, take walks and sometimes jogs to the park, and play together all around the house. I always put you on your tummy and help you sit up, and recently started practicing spoon feeding you some peas, rice cereal, and sweet potatoes. So far it's the sweet potatoes you prefer, and you won't happily eat anything that hasn't been warmed to the perfect temperature. But even when you fuss, you really are such an agreeable baby, and your Grandpa had a great day with you today, saying you were very "readable." Not only that, but you actually enjoy when I read to you, as I have from your first Bible, which was a gift from Josie. I also read "Goodnight Moon" to you. Your Dad likes to turn on "Yo Yo Gabba" and "Sesame Street" for you while you stand in your exercise gym we just got for you at a garage sale last weekend. Mommy thought it was time to change things up for you and give you some new challenges to stimulate your mental and physical growth. When I dropped in on your pediatrician's office last week just out of curiosity for your current weight, you came in at 17 pounds, 12 ounces. Whoa baby!



You are such a joy to wake up with every day. Now that we have you in your crib, sleeping on your own almost 12 straight hours every night, I actually miss you while you are in dreamland. When I do finally hear your sweet voice talking to your mobile or maybe just to yourself somewhere around 6:30 a.m., I walk into your room, put on my biggest smile, and say, "Hiii!" Your response is absolutely irresistable. You hear me first, look and see me second, and your whole face lights up with an excited smile finally. Today I even saw your arms open up and ask me to pick you up. I usually spend a couple of moments just enjoying your reaction, though, and marveling at how you've woken up to the world and find it such a happy place to be, every single day. Hold on to that spirit, Matthew, as it will carry you very far in this life.

Your Dad and I spent our first whole night away from you two weeks ago, when we went to the Central Coast for my friend Rebecca's wedding. I was a little anxious to leave you - yes, just a little, even though many moms are much harder with this milestone - but I knew you would be in the best of hands with your Dad's niece Alisa. (We call her Auntie Alisa but she is actually your cousin.) We dropped you off early on a Saturday morning and embarked on an extremely romantic getaway to Paso Robles, where we spent the entire afternoon wine tasting, before going to Zenaida Cellars for the ceremony and reception. The wedding was beautiful and the reception was lovely, and we enjoyed glass upon glass of red wine while dancing and singing and simply enjoying an entire evening to ourselves for the first time, really, since you were born. I wish I could say I slept in at the hotel that evening, but I am so auto-programmed to your routine that I didn't get any more sleep than usual. No matter; for the most part you give me and yourself all the necessary sleep on a regular basis. You are SUCH a good baby.

I was thrilled to have you back in my arms when we came to pick you up on Sunday, and last weekend I was off on Friday and I spent the weekend playing with you and loving on you as much as possible. All day long I am kissing your cheek, squeezing your chubby legs and holding your little hands, pulling you up into a sitting position and helping you lay down again. I want to be there for every smile, every giggle, every tooth and every tear. I always tell you I've got you covered, and that you will have everything you need as long as I take care of you. And I will, baby, I promise.

Love,

Mama

Mother's Milk

I have posted before about how much I enjoy breastfeeding, but I need to post about it again, because this week brought about a classic case of not knowing what you have until it is taken away.

Due to one of the greatest modern inventions of the 20th century - the electric breast pump - going back to work full-time no longer necessitates the end of breastfeeding. I have spent this past week at work taking a break every two-and-a-half hours to pump milk, taking it home at the end of the day and bottling it for Matthew the next day.

That is, until Wednesday night, when something tragic put an end to my udder bliss. I won't go into detail, but suffice it to say I am now of the belief that latex and lube should always be sold in bundles.

Thursday morning I made an important stop at the pharmacy for the so-called "morning-after pill", to put an urgent stop to the immediate expansion of Matthew's family tree. I inquired with the pharmacist whether it was safe to take while breastfeeding. As the line of people behind me grew ever longer, he explained to me that even though the drug doesn't indicate a warning, it includes a strong dose of estrogen and I should probably consult my gynocologist on the matter. One hesitant phone call later and my doctor's nurse directed that I should probably "pump and toss" for the next couple of days. Stubbornly refusing to accept defeat, I put in a second call to Matthew's pediatrician, who indeed confirmed that the drug would not be safe for my baby boy.

I was heartbroken. As if it weren't enough that we were already in the midst of our first week apart from each other. The dreaded guilt of a working mom was immediately compounded. The morning and evening feedings had just become our own special time to literally reconnect! My first visit to his daycare center was during my lunch hour and specifically designed to include breastfeeding; to remind him that I was still close by and would never abandon him. Now, because of our birth control FAIL, my little handsome man would be getting nothing but a bottle until this forty-dollar drug could work its magic. And even THAT was only going to happen on a prayer.

I swallowed my pride and followed both doctors' orders, and Matthew has been happily accepting the bottle at every feeding, getting everything he needs. I try not to pout about that, and am happy that my baby is adjusting well to the new routine. Obviously the separation anxiety is mostly mine to bear, and I am doing fine in all honesty. Although I must admit, I would much rather be walking him to the park, doing tummy time on my bed, or putting him down for a nap at any given point during my work day. The closeness I experienced with him is now reduced to 10-minute pumping sessions in the breakroom, as I gaze at his newborn photo and massage out every last drop of elixer gold.

It's been nearly 48 hours since I took the second dose per the directions, and I am giddy with excitement to breastfeed him this evening. All of the pumping I've been doing this week (and especially the last couple days) has trained my breasts to fill more completely and frequently every few hours, and I am more confident than ever that he will be able to enjoy breastmilk only for the next many weeks, if not months. My goal is to continue breastfeeding until he is at least 6 months old, but now that I've experienced what it's like not to do it, I may end up going longer. Yes, it is a sacrifice, as I can't drink as often as others and there is some public awkwardness occasionally. But I don't know how so many mothers can voluntarily go without having this experience. For the closeness I experience with my baby, especially in this time of separation, right now I wouldn't give up breastfeeding for anything.

Two Months

Dear Matthew,

Tomorrow you turn two months old, and I have to say that the time since you were born has been the happiest of my life. Every day I take so much joy in feeding you at my breast, taking you on walks to the park, watching you sleep in the rear view mirror and sharing you with my closest friends and family. Right now you are changing by the day, having already grown to 24 inches and about 12 pounds, and your dad and I are so glad that you are healthy and on your way to becoming a very strong little boy.

I realized yesterday that I am the only one who could have brought you into this world, and that you are the only boy I was meant to have as my first son. That makes us very specially intended for each other, and I intend to raise you to be a wonderfully loved human being. I will always be here for you and always ensure you have what you need.

This week marks the last full week I will enjoy with you before I must return to work full time, and the reality of this started to really hit me a few days ago. I played a couple of shows with my old band over the weekend and I had no idea how hard it would be to leave you just for a few hours those evenings, even when you would be in the best of hands. An hour or so before I was ready to leave on Friday night I found myself in tears, and realized that it was more than just the evening that would see us apart - it was the months ahead of us. It didn't matter that you would be in an excellent day care two days per week and with your dad and grandpa the remainder; it only mattered that you would not be with me. After having you live inside my body for ten months and rely on it for food ever since, thinking about being apart from you for any length of time is like considering leaving the house without my legs.

This morning you were very fussy, having woken up earlier than usual and receiving a bottle instead of a breast as we prepare you for the increased bottle feedings ahead of you. We put you right back to bed after eating. As I made my own breakfast in the kitchen, you were unrelenting in your crib, and I tried to let you cry yourself to sleep but it wasn't working. I finally changed your diaper and let you sit with me a while in the kitchen, but you continued to show me how tired you were. I couldn't put you back to sleep, so as soon as I had milk to offer, we sat down in the nursery for some breastfeeding. But you didn't reach for the breast. You just laid in front of me and locked eyes with me. I looked back at you and asked if you had just wanted to be close to mommy. Then you smiled at me. Your smile has been showing up every day and it is every bit as wonderful as I had hoped.


Seeing you so content to simply sit with me and have it soothe you so completely caused the crying to stop for you but begin in me. My tears welled up and you watched them fill my eyes. You began to suckle but continued to stare at me, and I wondered what you were thinking as I cried. Did you know I was crying just as you had been, minutes before? Did you feel how much of my crying was happiness for the amount of love I feel for you? Or was I potentially making you upset all over again? I will never know what you were thinking as you watched me cry, but you seemed to be taking it in, and I think you get your keen perception from your father.

But then you amazed me even more. I stroked your head and held you close to me, trying to control my tears, and told you once more that I love you, as I tell you countless times every day. Without lifting your mouth from the boobie sandwich, you looked at me and told me you loved me too. Except it sounded more like "muoah-mlah-wha-muoah." My crying became laughter and the tears flowed even more. Your precious innocence makes me cry like nothing else. It was a moment I cannot adequately describe here, that you and I will share in my memory always.

We have so much to look forward to, Matthew. This is only the beginning.

Love,
Mom

Redefining Love

How can I put into words the things I love the most about my son? Does "everything" sum it up? Every day with him is a remarkable new discovery. Every time I breastfeed him I am overcome with love for that look in his eyes. Holding him as I walk from the car to the house, usually soothing him with words like, "I know" or "I'm gonna feed you right now," I hold his tiny head in my hands and can't stop kissing it. Walking into his room in the middle of the night and unwrapping his swaddled blanket so that I can pick up his tiny frame and kiss his cheek on the way to the changing table is one of my favorite rituals. Laughing at his burps, his farts, the way he grunts and twists as he pushes out his poop - these are things only a mother could love. And I do. I relish them all; every ounce of his 11.1 pounds.

His daddy is just as crazy about him. He comes home from work and after giving me a big kiss and hug, always asks, "Where's the little guy?" and wants to check on him if he is sleeping. When he leaves in the morning, he always tells Matthew: "Be good for your mommy!" (and he always is.) He looks forward to giving Matthew a bottle in the evening, which has included a formula supplement lately, and putting him down to bed. His dad has been happy to be in his life, and for that I am most grateful.

The bonus is that I am happy to have his daddy in MY life. Throughout my pregnancy I kept him at a distance and thought I could do this on my own if I needed to. But from the moment I got home from the hospital he has been my partner and supporter in every imaginable way - from feeding my cat and cleaning his litterbox to taking out my garbage and picking up groceries. The emotional support and his physical presence has been the most comforting aspect to me, even beyond the household help. The other day I was fighting the routine due to lack of sleep and I became overcome with emotions, and he rushed home from work to hold me and remind me that I am "doing an awesome job." He then ordered me to go to bed or go do something for myself for a few hours. I opted to spend time with him. He, in turn, said he was going to be in charge of the baby until midnight. Then he made me dinner and tucked me in at 8:30 PM. I slept so soundly until just after midnight, when Matthew awakened and I was more than happy to feed him myself. I felt so rested already - just those 3.5 hours of solid sleep truly did make all the difference, and the fact that he had ordered me to do it made me feel like someone was protecting and nurturing me just as I nurture our son every day. Could I do this all myself? I would guess, maybe. But I am thankful beyond all measure that I instead have him at my side, on this incredible journey with me.

We share love, emotional support, and a common interest in giving our son the best possible life. By that definition, we are family.

In the Glow of Love

Today I was changing Matthew after our morning walk and feeding, and he gave me a look. It was a look that was almost as if he had something to say. I stopped what I was doing, leaned forward, started talking to him and asking him for my smile. If I've asked him once I've asked him a dozen times a day, "Where's my smile?" His dad seems to be better at extracting it than I, so far. But today, I saw my opening. I asked for it, and suddenly, his whole face relaxed, his eyes brightened, and the corners of his mouth pulled back into a grin. A contented, immaculate grin. I went crazy and thanked him and realized I was crying before I could even think about it.

He has brought about such a foundational shift into my life; a giant pivot towards the sun. Whether he's fussy in the backseat and I have to tell him we're almost home, or he's nuzzled to my breast with his hand folded alongside his mouth, I still feel a mortal connection to him. All the cliches about motherhood have proven not only prophetic, but vastly understated.

I just love him so much, and love being his mother, and am so lucky to have him. I will keep telling him every day.

Bed Buddy

Since Matthew was born, he has slept every night in the crook of my arm. Sleeping this way began as a way of ensuring he could be comforted into a restful stretch of peace, and has continued as insurance that each stretch of sleep will last around 3 hours.

Even though I love the warmth of the body and the consistency that this has brought for both of us, the habit is risky and our sleep quality will suffer over tme. The need to wean him from this arrangement is inevitable. Thus, two nights ago I began to put an unfortunate end to this fine season of peace.

It shouldn't be too bad, really. We have a co-sleeper (like a basinette but with one side lowered to the level of my bed) in my room and he sleeps fairly well in it during naps. I nurse him in bed at night and when we are done, I burp him and usually slide down into the sheets and drift right back into sleep alongside him. Now, I just have to carefully place him in the co-sleeper next to me instead. The tricky part is, I have to be absolutely certain he is asleep before I place him down, otherwise he wakes and cries and the whole process begins again from scratch, with an infant who knows he is being conned.

The net effect of this is that for the past two nights, my trusty three-hour intervals of sleep have all but evaporated. Now we wake approximately every 90 minutes. You can imagine how I feel about this change. Unfortunately it takes a toll on Matthew, too, who needs longer stretches of sleep that can only begotten by draining each of my breasts every hour on the hour.

We don't have much choice except to keep working on it. During the day I've started putting him in his crib in his own room, and perhaps soon I will take him out of my room altogether. He would probably sleep better if he were in his own space all the time, as his daddy can be quite loud with his snoring, too.

Little by little, we will get there, but this week has been a tough one.