Back to the doctor...

We headed back to the doctor for his 9 month check-up. He had only been to the doctor for sickness once and I was grateful for that. This time he had gained 2 more pounds and 2 inches in length. He was still only in the 5th-10th percentile but he was growing. His doctor also said that because he was so active, he was burning a lot of calories.

I had been really nervous for this appointment because last time she had detected a heart murmur. After she had gone over his chart and started to examine him, I asked about the heart murmur. I was terrified of her response. I just imagined that she would send me to specialists and to have all sorts of tests. But she didn't hear it at all. She listened several times and there was no trace of a murmur. Relief!

Then the discussion turned to his eating. He had been eating a lot more in his bottles and had been eating solids three times a day. She told me that when he turned a year I should start on whole milk. I can't wait for that day to come. In the meantime she told me to start on dairy products - yogurts, cheeses, pudding. She told me to give him the full fat stuff, nothing low fat or low calories. I should start feeding him more table foods too. I was excited.

I told her that he was getting up at night all the time now. And I absolutely started a bad habit. Now that he was standing up in his crib, I would go in there every time and take him out. I would rock him back to sleep and then put him back. He would seem like he was completely out but as soon as I laid him down, he popped right back up. It was frustrating and I would give up and take him to sleep with me on the couch. The problem was that he was expecting this and would give me problems on purpose, knowing that I would scoop him up and take him with me. But I enjoyed it too, the cuddling. And he always slept no problem when I was right next to him. I knew this couldn't go on forever and I would have a fight on my hands to break the habit. But it had to be done. I wasn't getting any sleep.

She told me to let him cry for a while and see if he would sit himself back down in the crib and go to sleep. I don't believe in the cry-it-out method but I had to give it a shot. We would see that night if I had the strength to go through with it.

I've been waiting for these teeth forever...

From the time my son was 3 months old, I swore he was teething. He wasn't much of a drooler but he was always gnawing on his hands. And I thought I saw some bulges on his lower gums. Everyday I got out of the shower and my sweetie would be in his bouncer. I would stick my finger in his mouth and feel around. Nothing. I did this for a good 3-1/2 months. And always nothing.

I was about to give up. In fact, I stopped checking his gums for a few days. I noticed that he had a little cough so I didn't want to bother him by shoving my hands into his mouth. He was a little cranky but I assumed it was from the cough. He turned his head away from solids. He still took a bottle but wanted nothing to do with his baby food. Again, attributed to the cough.

Soon I decided to start checking his gums again and lo and behold, I felt a sharp little corner of something. Do you think he would let me get a good look? It was a fun game. Mommy trying to pull baby's lip down to look at his gums and he would pull it back up and clamp shut. Eventually I was able to see it. It was like a very thin line of white and it had a little texture. He was getting his first tooth! My friend's son was 3 months older and he had teeth since he was four months old. Now we were finally going to be keeping up with the Joneses.

He had the makings of his first tooth and I realized that the little cough, the crankiness, the loss of appetite was probably because he was teething. Then I felt bad because I hadn't done anything to ease the pain. But he got through it. And without a ton of drool. I was expecting buckets but only got a couple dribbles.

I was truly expecting to wake the next morning and find a full grown tooth. But the next morning it was still the thin white line. So maybe it would be the next morning. The next morning showed no growth. Two weeks of next mornings later, it was just a tiny little stub. How long does it really take to grow some teeth. It can't be that hard, right? Little did I know that he would grow a second tooth stub right next to his first one a few weeks later. Then two more stubs on top. Those came in together. He never had any major reaction to any of them and had the same behaviors each time. No drool, little cough, little crab cake, and no solids. To this day (3 months later) they are all still so teeny tiny. I wonder when they will be full grown.

The best part is looking at his silly little grin. His top teeth seem so big compared to the bottom and he looks so goofy. I didn't think I could love making him laugh any more than I already did but it is possible and I do love it more.

I know he wants to...

My son always hated tummy time. I didn't force it on him but I would try to get some in every day. I was worried that he wouldn't learn to crawl because he didn't spend a lot of time on his belly, developing his back muscles, etc.

Then one day, he got up on all fours. I thought for sure that was it. He did this for a couple of days and then he started to rock. He didn't crawl but I know he wanted to.

These days were a little depressing. I knew he would be doing more things, more physical things and I hated the fact that I was at work most of the day. I wanted to be home, encouraging him. I just had to hope that he did everything in the evening or on weekends.

He must have understood because he took his first big leap when I was home. He did it. He put his hands forward. Then instead of falling on his face, which he had done plenty, he moved his legs. He actually moved a couple of inches before he decided that he had enough excitement for one day.

The next day he did it again. Just about the same distance but he did it. The day after that he was more bold and went a couple of feet. After that there was no stopping him. He would get going a little too fast sometimes. It was the cutest thing. His legs would go before his arms and he would get all tangled up and fall on his face. But he always got back up and kept going.

Within three or four days, he couldn't be stopped. He was a crawling machine. By the end of the first week of crawling, he pulled himself up on the couch into a standing position. He was only seven months old so I was sure that it was way too soon to start walking. He seemed perfectly content to stand there. I figured he was just getting his muscles ready for walking.

Within a week he was cruising along furniture. He would walk around the couch and the ottoman. He refused to let me hold his hands to walk though. He wasn't quite ready for that.

One thing that I noticed now though was that he was waking in the middle of the night again. He had been sleeping perfectly since I changed how he was eating. And if he did wake, I would hear him and then he would just go back to sleep right away. There was no need to even get up. But now he was waking and practicing his new skill. I would go in and find him standing up in his crib. The problem was that he had not perfected the sitting down part. So he would just be stuck there in a standing position. One time I went in and he fell forward and hit his face on the bars. Now I felt obligated to go to him in the middle of the night so he didn't hurt himself. I tried working with him to get him to sit down but he didn't get it. I felt like he had regressed to a two-month old, as far as night waking was concerned. Here we go again!

Six month check up...

I couldn't believe it when it was already time for his six month check-up. Other than those 2 weeks of him being sick, my son was very healthy. We had only been to the doctor for his well checks.

I LOVE his pediatrician. She is young but she is a mom and she is great with him. He loves her too. He was weighed and was only 14lbs 4oz and 25 inches long. He fell on his curve. He was now in the 5th percentile. I was concerned. But the pediatrician said that since he was gaining weight that he was probably fine. She asked what I was feeding him. To this point he was getting lots of fruits and veggies. But he was only taking 22-24oz of formula per day. I would feed him a bottle with his solids and a couple other times throughout the day. He wouldn't take any more than 4oz at a time and most times it was way less than that. It was a struggle to get him to take his bottle. By now I had gotten his bedtime to about 8 or 8:30 which was a real improvement over the 11pm bedtime he had since he was a newborn. I had been giving him a bottle at around 11:30 before I went to bed because he would take a full 4oz and sometimes even 6oz when he was half asleep. I thought that getting him the formula was more important than letting him sleep. He was still getting up about 3am for another bottle. My friends' babies were sleeping through the night and I was so jealous. But those babies were also much bigger so I figured my little guy still needed the nutrients.

The pediatrician said to stop waking him to feed. She said it was interrupting his sleep. If I let him go through the night, then he would probably take a bigger bottel in the morning. She also said to stop giving him a bottle and solids in the same feeding. She said that was great practice for meals when he is off the bottle but more important now to get him to take more formula. She said a bottle in the morning, solids a couple hours later, bottle a couple of hours after that, solids, then bottle, solids, then bedtime bottle. The solids in between bottles could stretch the amount of time before he was hungry again so he might take more ounces at the next feeding.

I tried it that night. I put him to bed and at 11:30 I went to bed without waking him. I woke at about 5:30am and realized I had not heard him get up at all. I was sick with fear. Was something wrong? I jumped out of bed and creeped into his room. There he was, sleeping soundly, like an angel. I snuck back to bed and fell asleep for another hour before my alarm went off. He still hadn't woken up. I took the monitor into the bathroom with me and as I was getting out of the shower, I heard him stirring. I ran upstairs and scooped him up. He was bright and happy. I decided to try a 6oz bottle. He sucked the whole thing down. So I added 2 more ounces and he finished it. I added another 2 but he was finally done. I couldn't believe. The first night of following the doctor's advice and he had slept through the night and taken a full 8oz in one sitting. There was no looking back after that. He started to take four 8oz bottles a day. Sure there were times when he only took 6oz or less but on average he was up to 28oz per day, sometimes the whole 32oz. It was a miracle.

Back to the doctor appointment. So I was a little embarrassed that I had been feeding him incorrectly but was anxious to try it. After talking about his progress and milestones, the doctor did the examination. She listened to his heart. Then she listened again. I could tell by the furrow in her brow that something wasn't right. She said she heard a heart murmur. There was some irregularity in his heartbeat. My heart stopped. I told her that both my parents had heart murmurs and asked if it was genetic. She said it could be but it could also indicate a structural problem with the heart that could correct itself or could require surgery. The thought of my son having to have heart surgery was crushing. At this point she wasn't concerned but would like to keep an eye on it.

He had his vaccinations as well. He screamed and cried. The past two times he was fine afterwards, no fever, no irritability. I expected the same this time.

I got home and felt like all of the air had been let out of me. I was scared and worried about his heart murmur. My husband hadn't been at the appointment so when I told him about it, I broke down. I hate when doctors tell you something so frightening and then tell you not to worry. Now I had to wait until his 9-month checkup to see if it had worsened. And this time he did get a fever. I had such good luck with his health and now I felt like everything was crashing down around me. But at this point, there was nothing I could do. I just had to wait and hope for the best. I hate waiting!

He is growing up too fast...

My son was still a little peanut. Very small. But he was gaining weight which was good. Even though he was still tiny, he was growing up so fast. Everyone told me to cherich these moments because they go by so quickly. I just didn't know I would be so sad about it.

One day I realized that I had to get a new supply of clothes the next size up stocked in his dresser. I went through all of his things that were too small and washed them and stored them in bins. I was beside myself. Each little outfit made me remember something about him. This was his going home outfit when I brought him home from the hospital. This was his first Thanksgiving Day outfit. This is what he wore on his first Christmas. And with each little outfit packed away, a little piece of his childhood was packed away. And some of the things were just so darn cute that I hated the fact that he would never be able to wear them again. I hoped that the next switch of clothing wouldn't be this hard.

His bouncer had been a godsend. He loved being in it and it allowed me to take him with me everywhere in the house. I would put him in his bouncer on the bathroom floor while I showered and got ready in the mornings. He sat in his bouncer on the kitchen floor while I did dishes or got dinner ready. One day I had him in his bouncer in the living room floor while I was doing something in the other room. I checked on him frequently and he was fine. The next time I checked on him, the chair had tipped forward and he was face down on the floor, still strapped in his bouncer. I freaked out. I ran to him and was flooded with guilt. What a bad mother I was. How could I leave him alone in a room, even for five minutes? He was fine. No injuries and he didn't even seem to be phased. After I calmed down, I tried to figure out what happened. Later that day, I put him back in the chair and watched him. Nothing happened. Ok, so it was a fluke. I continued to use the chair under supervision and one day I saw it. He had started to sit up on his own and roll over. It looked like he was trying to do it while sitting in the chair. The momentum from his gymnastics was so great that it tipped the chair. I couldn't believe it. He was barely five months old and he had already outgrown his favorite bouncy chair. I couldn't use it anymore. He was no longer safe in it. I took off the cover and washed it. When I put the bouncer away, never to be used again, I cried. It was silly but I felt like he would be leaving for college tomorrow.

Don't get me wrong, growing up is good and I was happy. But it was bittersweet all the same.

Meeting milestones...

Smiling and Babbling: My son was a smiling, babbling fool. He would smile a lot but I still hadn't been able to recreate the belly laugh that made me laugh so hard. He was saying dada a lot, though he didn't associate my husband with dada. Everything was dada. He would sit for a long time just repeating the same sounds over and over and over and over again. Baba entered his vocabulary as well as mama. But again, he wasn't using these "words" for anything specific. He loved to smile at the dogs. I would bring him into the kitchen with me in his bouncer and put it on the floor. While I was doing dishes or making dinner, he would watch me. He would also watch the dogs and would smile every time they came near him. Everything they did amused him. When they ate, when they played, when they barked. I have had the opportunity to bring him around other people's dogs and he is never scared. He always smiles and sometimes shrieks with happiness.

Rolling Over: Just a couple of days before his four month check-up, he rolled over on his own. He had been trying for weeks. He would lay on his back and swing his legs to the side. He would push and try but could never quite get his body all the way over. Eventually he got his legs but then his arm would be caught underneath him and he couldn't make it all the way. Then one day my husband and I were watching this massive struggle. I wanted to help him but my husband held me back. Let him do it on his own. And then it happened. He just did it. I was so excited, clapping and cheering. Once on his belly, he didn't know what to do. I put him back on his back to see if he would do it again. He tried a couple of times but he was done for the day. A couple of days later he was a rolling expert. Whenever he was on his back, he flipped over. He tried to go back the other way and succeeded sometimes but usually by accident. From that time on, he never slept on his back again. I put him to bed on his back and he always ended up on his belly. The risk of SIDS goes way down once they can roll over on their own so I let him be.

Crawling: He hated tummy time. When he first learned to roll over he would get so mad that he was on his tummy. But I made him do it for a couple minutes per day. He wasn't ready for crawling yet but he was still too young. I would give him time on this one.

Sitting Up: He was able to sit pretty well with support. One day just after turning 5 months old, I propped him up with some pillows on the floor. He sat there playing for a while. Then I moved the pillows very carefully and he stayed where he was. He didn't fall backwards, though I was close by in case he did. Slowly he leaned forward until he folded up like a book. I guess falling forward was better than falling backwards. Soon he was sitting on his own and I was no longer worried about him falling backwards. I couldn't wait for this moment to get here and now here he was. A big boy.

I couldn't wait for him to crawl, walk, hold his own bottle, talk. There were so many milestones that I was anxious to happen but I was happy to bask in the glow of being a proud mama.

My little sidekick...

Since I was working and away from home for the better part of the day, I hated to be away from my son any other time. My husband started to get frustrated because he would be home all day with the baby, I would come home and he would want to drop him off at my mother's so we could go eat or go to the movies. Meanwhile my heart would break because I knew I had to give in sometimes and I hated not being able to spend time with him. But I had to realize that he had been cooped up in the house all day and I had to pay attention to our relationship.

I still wasn't able to let him stay overnight at my mother's house though. For one thing he wasn't sleeping through the night and I didn't want to subject my parents to the night waking. For another thing I wasn't ready. My husband wanted time alone but I told him that when the baby went to bed, that was our time alone. It was very hard to balance.

We do take our little one with us pretty much everywhere we go. That is fine with me. My husband is a coach for a local school team. I took the baby with me to their games. He was always so good. Never cried. Seemed to pay attention to what was going on. And he was even able to fall asleep amidst all of the noise. I took him to the first game and was very concerned about the noise. There were loud whistles and buzzers, not to mention the crowd cheering. I asked his pediatrician about it because I was worried that I damaged his little ear drums. She told me that a baby's ears are no more suseptible to damage than an adult's ear. So treat them the same way I would treat my own ears. If I would wear ear plugs, the baby should wear ear plugs. She didn't think a basketball game was going to do any harm but she wouldn't recommend taking him to a concert. We became regulars at his games and my son was always a hit.

We took him to restaurants, the grocery store, on picnics in the park, to friends and relatives houses. He was an expert at getting into and out of the car seat. He was still very small but he was getting heavier. I figured it was good exercise for me to lug him around all the time. And I figured it wasn't a bad thing to get him used to being in public. Never too young to teach good behavior when out and about. I always dread the day when he has a meltdown in public but it hasn't happened yet, knock on wood!

Please do it again...

Life with a 4 month old is fun. They change so quickly and even the littlest things are momentous occassions. This was how I felt the first time my son laughed. He had been smiling and cooing for a couple of months. And let me tell you how good it feels when your child smiles (intentionally, not gas-induced) for the first time. That in itself is reward for labor and delivery.

One day I was at my computer. I don't typically hold my son while I am working but on this day I had to get something done and he was being especially cuddly. So there were were in front of the monitor. He seemed to follow what was on the screen but eventually became bored. I could tell by his body language that he was done being patient. My dogs had been in and out of the room. He was very familiar with the dogs by now and they were familiar with him. They are huge lickers though so I had my hands full keeping them from licking him like a human ice cream cone. But on this occassion I wasn't really paying attention to them. I knew they couldn't get to his face or his hands so I just ignored them.

All of a sudden I heard this noise coming from my son. At first I thought he was crying and I panicked. Within a couple of seconds I realized that he wasn't crying. He was laughing. And this was an intense belly laugh that shook his whole body. I don't think I have ever laughed so hard. It was the best sound I had ever heard. And it wouldn't stop. He just kept laughing and laughing and laughing. One of the dogs had been licking at his little toes and either it tickled or felt funny or was just amusing. When the dog became distracted and left the room, he stopped laughing.

Do you think I could get him to do it again? I tried getting the dog to lick his toes again. That wasn't a problem. But now it wasn't so ticklish and wasn't so funny so I couldn't get the same reaction out of him. I must have tried everything. I think I hurt myself in the process, just trying to make silly movements and motions. Nothing.

I tried everyday but I never got that same laugh out of him. Not again for a couple of months. He continued to smile and coo but he made me work for that laugh. Maybe he was just messing with my head - let's see what mommy will do and how far she will go. But I don't think so. He was just waiting for the perfect reason to laugh again.

Homemade baby food...

So now that I had the ok to start on solids, I tried rice cereal. My son HATED it. He cried and screamed and shook his head. I had been giving him a little formula on a spoon prior to this so he would be used to the spoon in his mouth so I didn't think the spoon was the problem. Maybe he just wasnt' ready. How disappointing.

So I waited a week and tried again. Same reaction. I thought I would try the baby oatmeal cereal. Maybe he just didn't like the rice cereal. Same reaction. I tried everything. I made it really thin and also tried different levels of consistency. He just didn't want it at all. I was going to wait another week but the I decided to try applesauce. I had some natural, no sugar added applesauce at home so I spooned some into a little dish and crossed my fingers. I gave him a little taste and he made the most awful face. But he didn't cry. And he opened his mouth for more when I offered it. It must have been a little tart for someone who has only ever tasted formula but he was eating it. I was also concerned about his tongue reflex which would make him push food out and not swallow it. But he didn't seem to have a problem. Yeah!

I went to the grocery store the next day. I was going to try the applesauce for a few days to make sure he didn't have an allergic reaction but I anxious to see what else I could get for him. I stared at all of the little jars and a thought struck me. Why couldn't I just make my own baby food? I didn't buy any jars and got on the computer as soon as I got home. I researched how to make your own baby food and it seemed simple enough.

Now, I am no cook. I would gladly eat cereal for dinner every night or just throw some spaghetti into a pot. So I was a little nervous about the idea of cooking baby food. All I had to do was cook fresh or frozen fruits and veggies and blend them up into a puree. Then I would pour the puree into ice cube trays and freeze it. Easy, right?

I went back to the store and bought some squash. It was in the produce section, already cut up into chunks. I cooked it, threw it into the blender and it came out as a smooth puree. It was bright and had nice color. If I compared it to the little jars, I wouldn't even have to hesitate about which one I would feed him. It froze well too. I was so proud of myself. So proud.

When it was time to feed him the squash after a few days of apples, I pulled a cube out of the freezer, heated it up and fed it to him. He absolutely loved it. He didn't make a face. He just opened his mouth for more. He finished the whole cube.

After that I made green beans, peas, pears, peaches, zuchhini, sweet potato, bananas, blueberries, mixed fruits, mixed veggies. I was a baby food making machine. And it really only took about a 1/2 hour a week to make many servings. At first I didn't think it was saving me much money but a bag of frozen vegetables costs $0.89 and made between 6 and 12 servings, depending on what it was. To buy 6-12 servings in jars would have cost between $2.70 and $5.40 at least. So it really was a savings.

And that was it. I vowed that I wouldn't buy the little jars unless absoutely necessary. However, I would have to rethink that when he started meats. I didn't like the idea of having to blend up boiled chicken or beef. Ewww.

Solids already...

At my son's four month check up, he had fallen on his weight and height curves. He had been in the 25th percentile for both at his two month check up. I had a hard time feeding him and he was not taking any more than 4oz per bottle. Sometimes less. He was only eating about 20-22oz per day. He had also lost a bit of weight when he was sick and couldn't really eat.

He was also not sleeping through the night. All of my friends' babies slept through the night by now. My friend had a baby 3 months before I did and her son had been sleeping through the night, as in 12 hours a night, since he was 2 months old. I was extremely jealous of that. But the night feedings were fairly simple. He would wake up and eat and immediately go back to sleep. So I my sleep was interrupted but it wasn't like I was up forever with him. The doctor said this was normal and that because he was sleeping 5 hours straight, it was considered sleeping through the night.

He got his 4 month shots. With all of the information about autism and the links to vaccinations, I was very nervous about the shots. But he had to have them. So they were done. It went pretty much how it did at his 2 month appointment. He took the liquid vaccination well. He took a while to acknowledge the first shot. When he realized that it hurt, he let out a blood curdling scream. While he was crying, the nurse did the other shot. He cried for just a few minutes and then he was done.

The exciting part of this visit was that the doctor told me to start solids. I couldn't wait. She said he had good head control. They look for this before recommending solids because the baby has to be able to turn his head away when he didn't want anymore food. He could also sit well with support. He was ready. She told me the standard advice. Start with cereal. Use that for several days until I was sure there was no reaction. Then start on fruits and veggies, always waiting a few days in between a new food to check for allergies.

On our way home I stopped at the store and bought a box of baby cereal. I was going to try it in the morning. I could barely sleep. It was almost like Christmas Eve and I couldn't wait to wake up to open presents. Babies are fun.

Is he sick...

So life with baby for the first couple of months was great. It was a huge adjustment but we were getting along just fine. I was now back to work and I have to admit that I kind of liked it. Don't get me wrong, I wish I could stay home with my son or even just work part time so I could spend more time with him but there is something good about getting out of the house everyday to be in the company of other adults. It is hard to be home alone with a baby all day. I feel for my husband. It has been difficult though because by the time I get home from work, I am tired and just want to relax and play with him. But my husband has been in the house all day and wants to go out and do something. It is hard to balance both of our needs as parents.

Anyway, the baby had been healthy and happy, reaching his 2 month milestones. Then one day he was at my parents house and I heard what I thought was a scratchy throat when he was babbling. My parents thought he sounded fine but I was his mother and I could tell there was something not right with his voice. I let it go and he seemed fine.

The next morning, he was sniffling, sneezing and coughing. He sounded horrible. I knew he was sick but I didn't want to raise the alarm just yet. It was a Friday. I sucked his little boogies out of his nose. He let me me use the booger puller at first without a fuss. But then he was on to me and everytime I came near him with it, he struggled and screamed. I was persistant though because he couldn't breathe. I also started using saline drops/spray. It loosened everything up and I was able to get more when I went in for the suction. It never lasted long though and I felt like I was constantly digging in his poor little nose.

And his chest was rattling with the mucus. I felt so bad for him. I gave him his bottles very cold to soothe his throat and I bought some baby VICKS and rubbed that on his chest and feet. I put a cool mist humidifier in his room at night. And that was really all I could do.

On Saturday morning, I was started to become alarmed. He was so young and his chest and breathing sounded so bad. I had read somewhere that if they take more than a certain number of breaths in a minute that means they are struggling to breathe. I called the doctor and they were having Saturday hours. I had to wait a few hours and I was almost to the point of panic. I wanted to bring him to the emergency room. But I also didn't want to overreact.

When I finally got in to see the doctor, they checked him over. His ears were fine. And she said he didn't have anything in his lungs. I was so relieved. She said it just sounded bad but there was nothing to worry about. The only thing I could do was to wait it out and keep doing what I was doing.

He wasn't eating very much so I was concerned about dehydration. He never did get much of a fever and he always had wet diapers so he was ok. But he was just so pitiful. I could tell he was very uncomfortable and there was nothing I could do for him.

Two long weeks later, he got better. He made it and we made it through his first illness. Now I would be better prepared for the next one. Hopefully it won't be for a long time.

Back to work...

The decision had been made. My husband would stay home with the baby. The final night of my maternity leave had arrived. That night I set the alarm and tried to fall asleep. I was so depressed. I could not imagine returning to the land of cubicles. Eventually I must have fallen asleep but then baby needed to be fed. My husband and I switched roles. He would be getting up with the baby and I would be sleeping so I could get up for work in the morning. I had wanted him to take care of the baby all day one day, pretending I wasn't there. Just so he could see how it would be when I was gone. But he didn't do it. He said he would be fine. That night, I could see that I was going to be nervous for them alone. He got up with the baby but he turned on every light on in the house. When I get up with the baby, I do everything very quietly and in the dark so he never fully wakes up. He usually goes right back to sleep. So my husband had a different way of doing it. Ok. But then I realized that I was just laying awake, listening. I couldn't sleep until he got back to bed and then I couldn't sleep until I checked on the baby. I decided that even though I had to get up for work, I would still get up with the baby. It didn't make sense for us both to be up and I couldn't sleep when he got up with him. So there you have it. I am not usually the controlling type but I just couldn't make my mind shut down when he was taking care of him at night.

As the alarm went off in the morning, I woke with a lump in my throat. I didn't know if I could do it. I had sick days available. Couldn't I just call in sick and have one more day? But now that I was a new mom and the breadwinner, I had a responsibility to my family. So I reluctantly got ready for work, kissed my husband and son goodbye and drove off in a blur of tears. What if my son forgot about me while I was away at work? What if he resented me because I was leaving him? What if he loved my husband more than me because he was home with him? I attributed all of these complex feelings to a two month old. Irrational, I know but I still felt them with every mile I put between us.
As I pulled into my parking lot, I pulled myself together. I walked through the door and turned on my computer. As I settled in as my professional self, I couldn't shake the thought that they were home and I was not. I checked the clock every other minute and was dismayed to find that an hour away from him seemed like ten. That meant that I would be away from him for eighty hours in one day. I didn't call to check on them because I wanted my husband to know that I had confidence in his ability to take care of our son. As lunchtime rolled around, I didn't know how I was going to make it through the rest of the day, let alone a lifetime as a working mother. But then I got an e-mail letting me know that I had a new picture message. I opened it and there was my son in his little baby bathtub. I realized then that they would get along fine without me but that didn't mean that they didn't need me.

After that first hard day, I established a routine. I knew that as working mother, my time with my son each day would be limited so I made the most of it. I cherished the night feedings. I got him up in the morning, fed him and changed him. Then I would get ready quickly and was able to spend more time with him before I had to leave. As soon as I got home from work, I took over baby duty. I was tired from being at work all day but let's face it, I wasn't digging ditches or working in a mine. I was sitting behind a desk. So I wasn't too tired to spend time with my son. I got time to unwind when he went to bed before it started all over again. This got me through those first couple of months back at work.
Now we are like a well-oiled machine. Everyone gets quality time and we are able to have a happy, healthy home life. In my dreams, I win the lottery and neither of us would have to work. But then I wake up and get back to my real life as a working mom.

To work or not to work...

Throughout my entire pregnancy, I had known that I would have to go back to work. We had researched daycares. After the devestation I felt after looking at the first one, we finally found one that would be very nice. I had liked the facility, the people, the program. They were a big proponent of infant education such as sign language. They had excellent security and safety measures. It was close to home so I would be able to drop him off in the morning and then pick him at night.

Then as my maternity leave was coming to an end, I looked at my 4 week old baby and thought there was no way I would be able to take him to a daycare in 2 weeks. He was just so tiny. I know that people have to do daycare and there are a lot of benefits to daycare that he could not get by staying home. I had been in daycare from the time I was an infant and I feel that it prepared me for school. I had a wonderful experience with daycare. But I just had to look at him to be reduced to tears. How could I leave him with strangers? I even knew one of the infant teachers who would be caring for him but it didn't help.

I started to look for alternatives. I had to work, there was no question about it. My mother and father had to work. My mother had always said that she was not going to raise her grandchildren. Not in a nasty way, but she wasn't going to give up her life to become a permanent babysitter. And I didn't blame her. There was no way I would ask her to give up her job so she could watch him. My in-laws are much older and they live far away. I am sure they would have come to the house as much as we needed them to but again, it wasn't their problem. I called my boss and asked if I could work from home a couple days a week so I would only have to put him in daycare for a little while each week. But they understandably told me that it wouldn't work. I couldn't be on conference calls with an unpredictable newborn at home.

Then it hit me. My husband had been hired for a coaching job which was just seasonal and didn't pay much but he was working essentially 2 jobs. I made more than he did at his permanent job so we couldn't rely on his income without mine. But the coaching job was more flexible with practices and games in the evening. So I worked the numbers over and over again. It would be tight and we wouldn't be able to save much if anything but I thought we could get by with only my income and his coaching income.

I was returning to work on January 2nd and we literally made the decision for him to quit his job and stay home with the baby 2 weeks before my return. The decision was met with apprehension. How will he do with the baby alone? Can we really afford it? But also with relief. He would be home with his daddy and I wouldn't have to leave him in a strange place every morning.

I can't wait...

The first couple months of a baby's life are pretty uneventful. They can't really do anything exciting or fun. On the other hand, everything they do is exciting and fun. He ate, slept and pooped. But he also started cooing. The little noises he made were unbelieveably cute. He started to show non-gas related smiles which melted my heart. He seemed to move his arms and legs purposely, rather than just as a reflex.

He was on track developmentally but I just couldn't wait for other big milestones. I wanted to feed him solids. I wanted him to laugh. I wanted him to crawl. I wanted him to give me kisses back. I wanted him to say mama, dada, and I love you. But the time flies when they are so little. And I didn't want him to get any bigger. He fit perfectly in my arms and on my chest. I didn't want him to get too big where I couldn't cuddle with him anymore. I didn't want him to grow up and gain independence and not want to be with me all the time. But that is inevitable. I couldn't have it both ways. I couldn't want him to grow up and do all of these things and keep him my little tiny baby forever.

He also had his follow-up weight check when he was 2 weeks old and his first shots when he turned 2 months. The 2 week visit was good. He had gained weight so he was just a little more than he had weighed when he was born. It was a good thing because he had lost so much in the beginning. His circumcision had healed and I was able to give him big boy baths in his baby tub. His 2 month visit was good too. He was in the 25th percentile for height, weight and head circumference. He was small but he was still on a nice curve.

He didn't cry much and I thought I had the best behaved, well mannered baby in the world. Then came time for his shots. The first vaccination was oral. He had to drink a liquid. He took it right down like a champ. The nurse said that most babies cry and spit it out. Just reinforced the fact that I had the best baby. Then he had his first shot which had a few vaccines. For the first couple of seconds he didn't cry at all, just looked a little confused. Then it hit him and he screamed so loud. It was the loudest, most piercing scream I had ever heard. I wanted to scoop him off of that table and run. I wanted to cry. I had to squeeze back the tears. I felt so guilty that I was making him go through this pain. But it wasn't over. He had to get his second shot. The reaction to the second shot was exactly the same. The nurse left the room and I was left to comfort my son who had just been stabbed with a needle. He was fine within a minute. He stopped crying and I was right back to normal. He handled this first set of vaccinations very well.

But now that his 2 months birthday had passed, I had to start thinking about returning to work. Well, I would think about it another time. For now, I happy to be in denial.

I can

It's too soon for a baby tour...

Now that baby had seen the doctor and was doing well, other than the weight gain, we decided to take him on a tour. He was only 7 days old. I thought it was way too soon. But the pediatrician at the hospital said that there was no reason to keep a baby inside. She said to avoid crowded places like a mall where a lot of people may be in contact with the baby but there was no reason to isolate him.

I wanted to get out of the house too. I felt so blah because of the lack of sleep. I wasn't eating well and it was hard for me to find time to shower. So I thought that getting out of the house would be good for me.

We bundled him up and hopped in the car. The first stop on the tour was my in-laws house. They hadn't really been by to visit because they live about 45 minutes away. They weren't expecting us so we when we got there, we put the baby in his carseat on the doorstep, rang the bell and hid off to the side. The baby was sleeping so he had no idea that he was helping us with a practical joke. My in-laws opened the door to see a baby on their doorstep. The look on their faces was priceless.

We piled into the house and visited for a while. They took turns holding him while he slept. He slept the entire time. I don't think they had ever seen him with his eyes open because he slept all the time at the hospital when they were visiting there. It was nice to be there with them. They had 4 other grandchildren so they were used to babies. They offered to watch him while my husband and I napped but I was ready to move on to our next stop.

We got back in the car and ended up at my mother's work. She didn't know we were coming either. If she knew were even thinking about taking the baby out, she would have freaked out. So we surprised her. She was able to show off her new grandbaby to all of her co-workers. He is her first grandchild. We fed the baby and he slept some more. Then we said our good-byes and headed home.

We had been gone for about 3 hours but it felt like an all day road trip. I was exhausted. I was still recovering and found that the getting ready, the driving, the visiting were a little much. But it was good to be part of the real world and not be isolated to my living room. The baby slept. He had no idea that he had just been on a tour.

First day out with baby...

I took my son for his 1 week checkup at his pediatrician. There is a hospital very close to my house, not the one I delivered at but one where I had all of my sonograms and non-stress tests. I thought it would be very convenient. I could walk there if I wanted.

So my husband and I set out for the appointment. It was freezing. It was rain/snowing and very windy. We bundled up the baby and covered his car seat with a blanket. We walked into the building, up the elevator and into the waiting room. I was horrified. It was the most dirty doctor's office I had ever seen. I would have expected to see toys and coloring books everywhere because this is where kids are waiting. But I wasn't expecting to see the dirt and grime. I checked in and filled out some paperwork. After a long wait we were called back.

First they weighed him and he had lost more weight. He was now only 6lbs, 2oz. The weighing station was a little table/scale covered in paper. I had to completely undress the baby, diaper and all. Of course he peed everywhere. But this was all right in full view of the waiting room. Maybe that was normal, I don't know.

After he was weighed, we had to wait in the patient's room forever. I was getting really anxious because I wanted to feed him. He was supposed to have eaten already. He wasn't crying so I knew he was probably fine but I felt like something bad would happen if I didn't feed him. Eventually the doctor came in. Well she wasn't the pediatrician, she was a resident or intern or something like that. She examined the baby and told us that he had an umbilical hernia. She said that it would eventually go away as the muscles of his stomach wall strengthened. But if they didn't, he would need surgery. My heart stopped at that point. She told me not to worry. How is a brand new mother not supposed to worry when they hear something like that? But then the doctor started to look in his ears with a scope. There were scope covers right next to it but she just stuck the scope in his ear and didn't use a cover. I was a little freaked out by that. Then she kept looking in his ears for a long time. I thought something was wrong. Turns out there was something wrong. She couldn't see anything. The scope wasn't plugged in so she didn't have any light. She moved the entire examining table with the baby on it so she could reach down and plug it in. I wanted to grab him off the table and run out of there.

Then the pediatrician came in and examined him again. His little wee wee looked good and she reiterated the hernia diagnosis. She also said that I needed to continue feeding him every 2-3 hours and try to increase his serving size. He needed to gain weight back. She wanted to see him in another week for a weight check. Then she said goodbye and left the room. We could hear a child screaming in another room and an adult yelling at her at the top of her lungs. I felt like I was in twighlight zone.

We bundled the baby up for our trek back out into the nasty weather. When I got home I immediately started looking up other pediatricians. I found one that sounded good and was part of the group that my mother's doctors belonged to. My mother liked the offices so I decided to call and see if they were accepting new patients. They were and I was relieved. I also felt guilty that I was going behind my pediatrician's back. But I had to be comfortable with my son's doctor. I just had to be. There was no compromising on this one.

So with a new doctor lined up for the following week, I fed my baby and he was content.

One week down, 18 years to go...

I settled into my first week as a mommy. The baby slept a lot. But it was only in 2-3 hour intervals. I tried to sleep when he slept but it was very difficult. Nighttime was a challenge. I slept in our spare room and had his pack-n-play set up. He slept all bundled and swaddled in the bassinet section of the pack-n-play. We had a real bassinet that had been in the family for 40 years. It was a wooden cradle. It had been passed around and every time a baby used it, their name was written on the bottom. Our son was the 35th name. Unfortunately he hated the thing. We tried it a couple of times but he cried and cried. He seemed to prefer the pack-n-play. I would get him to sleep then lay in bed watching TV. I would eventually fall asleep and whem my little food timer went off, I would sleepily drag myself into the kitchen and make a bottle. The baby would eat and then go back to sleep. But by then, I was wide awake. So I would watch TV again and wait for the next ding of the timer. It is amazing how your body adjusts to sleep irregularity. I was exhausted most of the time but I was able to function. Other the exhaustion, it was difficult because my husband and my dogs were cuddling in our upstairs bedroom and I kind of felt left out. Like I was living a separate life than the three of them.

He ate a lot. Feeding every 2 hours seems crazy. I felt like I was always feeding him. He would be done with a bottle and I would start my countdown. Two hours really isn't a lot of time to get things done or to nap before the next bottle. And the cleaning and boiling of the bottles was a such a pain. I had a dishwasher but I didn't trust it. I felt like everytime something came out of it, I had to clean it again anyway. So I was boiling them and washing them with hot, soapy water. Making the bottles wasn't fun either. I boiled a big pot of water and let it cool in a glass pitcher. I kept it covered on the counter. Then I would add the water to the bottle, add the formula and mix. Seems easy. But at 3 in the morning, it is rather challenging. I should have made a big batch of formula and kept it in the fridge but then I would have had to warm the bottles. I usually just fed him with room temperature bottles so my system worked for us.

He pooped a lot. Well he did a lot of #1 and #2. I was peed on a few times before we figured out how to keep the old diaper on while sliding the new diaper under the baby's bottom. Then like pulling a tablecloth off of a table full of dishes, I would slide the old diaper off and put the new one in place. Like magic. But we still had to clean his little wound. It was healing and it didn't seem to bother him. But my god, he screamed whenever he was getting changed or dressed. And it was such a cute little scream. I laughed every time. We also discovered that his poop had a mind of its own. I could tell when he was going because his little nostrils would flare and he would turn bright red. And it sounded like I was squeezing frosting out of a bakery bag. Anyway, we discovered on more than one occasion that when it seemed like he was done, he probably wasn't. We would start to change the diaper when more would come shooting out. And when I say shooting out, that is exactly what it did. It was funny every time. I also noticed that the texture was strange. The first time I changed a poopy diaper, I said "Who fed him sesame seeds?" That's what it looked like. I was scared at first but I was told that it was normal. I was never overly grossed out by potty humor but I never knew I would talking about and laughing about poop so much.

So the first week gave me a glimpse of how the next few months would be. At this point, he really didn't do anything fun, well other than the aforementioned diaper antics. I just couldn't wait until he was able to smile and laugh and eat food, etc, etc, etc. But then I looked at him, so tiny, and wondered how I would ever be ok with him getting bigger and older.

How am I ever going to keep track...

By the second day, I was a little overwhelmed. I was in more pain than ever. I guess once the energy of the whole situation dies down, your body is free to feel the bruises and tears that result from childbirth. My husband was there to help me but it is hard because he had no concept of what I was going through. And I am so fiercely independent that I wanted to do everything on my own. If I needed something washed, I trekked to the basement and did laundry. Even with the baby, I wanted to do everything.

That is when I started to feel the pressure of the timing of everything. How was I ever going to keep track of his feedings? I was supposed to feed him every 2 hours or so. He had lost a bit of weight when we left the hospital. That is normal but they wanted me to keep him on a feeding schedule so he didn't lose any more weight. I was trying to keep track by just watching the clock but during that first night of exhaustion, I realized that I wasn't going to be able to calculate anything in my head. And I was afraid to rely on the baby to tell me when he needed to eat. I felt that if I didn't wake him, he would sleep through the feeding and it would be hard to make it up during the day.

Then on the morning of the second day, I had a brilliant idea. I have a food timer magnet on my fridge. You set the time and a little alarm goes off when the time is up. It was perfect. So I started setting my little timer every 2 hours. Then I would feed my little munchkin. I soon found out that he was not a very good eater. But I wanted to get as much food as possible into his little belly so he would gain some weight back.

We had visitors that day. My mother came by for a while. And of course everyone offered to watch the baby if I needed a nap but I refused. I wasn't going to let anyone help me. I think back now and I was absolutely crazy. But I feel like I wouldn't change the way I handled things if I had to do it all over again. I wanted to do things on my own. My husband only had a couple days off from work and I would be on my own after that. I would be the one getting up with the baby because he had to get up early in the morning. My mother couldn't take much time off from work either. So I just wanted to jump right in and start from day one.

I also realized that interrupted sleep is worse than no sleep. There is something about the REM stage of sleep that makes you feel like doo doo if you don't get enough. So waking every 2 hours really takes a toll on you. And this was just the second day home. How were we, how was I, going to get through this?