I think someone has replaced my baby with a Mr. Potato Head. Silas has very expressive eyebrows and I love watching them change throughout the day.
There are the relaxed eyebrows, which he wears for most of the day - because those are the ones he wears while he sleeps.
He also has a reserve of angry eyebrows, concerned eyebrows and suspicious eyebrows. The angry eyebrows come out when he sucks on a pacifier and realizes he is not being fed from it. They also occur while I am trying to burp him. If he's still hungry, he'll headbutt his hands and arms until he manages to latch on to them and then out come the angry eyebrows!
So when he is nursing and first latches on, it's usually with concerned or suspicious eyebrows. These quickly change to neutral or sleepy eyebrows once he is assured that he will get to eat.
I suspect that soon he will have his eyes open more and broaden his facial expressions as a whole, but for now, I'll enjoy watching his eyebrows.
Also, I've taken Silas into the bed with us, despite my talented sister-in-law doing a commercial explaining to not do that. It's not that I haven't weighed the risks; it's just that I don't go to bed drunk or on drugs and I'm not a heavy sleeper, so I'm not worried about smothering my baby. Plus, I don't have extra fluffy blankets or pillows.
And the most important part - he sleeps so much better. We got our first three and a half hour sleep stretch when he was lying in bed with us. I think that's worth it because he was happier during the day and so was I!
Sunday, October 14, 2012
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Feeling Sad
I was holding Silas today. It was almost time for him to eat and he had started fussing a little, rooting around and sticking out his tongue. He was making some sounds and I asked him jokingly if he was trying to talk already. I told him that I'd be around when he started to talk.
That was a bad thing to say, even to myself. I remembered (as I will myself to forget as often as possible) that I won't be able to stay home with him and that there was a perfectly good chance his first words would be spoken to someone without me or Smiley there. A sad thought, but I pushed it to the side because there's no point in crying over hypotheticals.
Still, it had set a mood for me, and unfortunately the next step was for Silas to hammer the sadness home. As his fussing increased, I got set up to nurse him in my favorite chair. He quieted down, perhaps anticipating what would happen next. As I held him up to my chest, however, he did not latch on as he normally would.
Instead, he paused, making no noise but his face turning bright red and then he started wailing - a desperate, loud cry that frankly shocked me with its intensity. I stared at him for a moment as he cried again, the pleading note in his cry horribly evident.
In that moment, tears gathered in my eyes and then started falling. I rocked him back and forth for a moment to calm him down before attempting to latch him on to nurse and his cry subsided fairly quickly as he reassessed the situation, headbutt me a few times trying to coordinate his head and then latched on to nurse. His eyebrows quickly turned from serious and concerned to happy and calm.
But for a few minutes while I fed him, I continued crying. It was one of those moments where it was obvious - even now, at just over a month old! - that sometimes, I'll be there for Silas with exactly what he needs and it still won't be enough.
Sometimes, I feel frustrated. I think as a new mom, and especially as someone who wants to have children, that I can only share the good parts - that sharing the bad parts of having a child only opens myself up to the attack that "you wanted to have kids so deal with it." Which is true, and I will deal with it, but life is full of choices and sometimes, occasionally, I want to talk about the bad parts of a decision.
That was a bad thing to say, even to myself. I remembered (as I will myself to forget as often as possible) that I won't be able to stay home with him and that there was a perfectly good chance his first words would be spoken to someone without me or Smiley there. A sad thought, but I pushed it to the side because there's no point in crying over hypotheticals.
Still, it had set a mood for me, and unfortunately the next step was for Silas to hammer the sadness home. As his fussing increased, I got set up to nurse him in my favorite chair. He quieted down, perhaps anticipating what would happen next. As I held him up to my chest, however, he did not latch on as he normally would.
Instead, he paused, making no noise but his face turning bright red and then he started wailing - a desperate, loud cry that frankly shocked me with its intensity. I stared at him for a moment as he cried again, the pleading note in his cry horribly evident.
In that moment, tears gathered in my eyes and then started falling. I rocked him back and forth for a moment to calm him down before attempting to latch him on to nurse and his cry subsided fairly quickly as he reassessed the situation, headbutt me a few times trying to coordinate his head and then latched on to nurse. His eyebrows quickly turned from serious and concerned to happy and calm.
But for a few minutes while I fed him, I continued crying. It was one of those moments where it was obvious - even now, at just over a month old! - that sometimes, I'll be there for Silas with exactly what he needs and it still won't be enough.
Sometimes, I feel frustrated. I think as a new mom, and especially as someone who wants to have children, that I can only share the good parts - that sharing the bad parts of having a child only opens myself up to the attack that "you wanted to have kids so deal with it." Which is true, and I will deal with it, but life is full of choices and sometimes, occasionally, I want to talk about the bad parts of a decision.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
Silas's Birth Story
Well, it's just over a month out now, and I still haven't posted anything here as a birth story. I think I'll do that now.
The last few weeks of my pregnancy were the worst part of being pregnant. Though I don't recall it quite as clearly as when I was there, I remember texting my mom almost daily to complain about pain. I had sciatic pain and my right leg would often be the recipient of the shooting pains while I was sitting down.
I was also uncomfortable in general. Sitting, standing and sleeping took a special effort and walking had dissolved into a light shamble. Ok, fine, it was a heavy shamble.
However, as September rounded the corner and me with a due date of 9/24/12, I knew I had to be patient in waiting for my little baby.
At Smiley's workplace, his coworkers were telling him to expect me to go late; as a general rule, first time moms tend to give birth at 41w1d or something along those lines. Don't quote me. But the important part is, they go late. I think we both started mentally psyching ourselves up for that.
At my workplace, my coworkers were convinced that I would go early. Coworkers I hadn't known well would stop and ask if I were alright as I tried gamely to shamble from desk to bathroom and back again several times a day. I assured everyone they would be seeing me until September 24th or longer, if needed. They laughed.
The last few weeks of my pregnancy were the worst part of being pregnant. Though I don't recall it quite as clearly as when I was there, I remember texting my mom almost daily to complain about pain. I had sciatic pain and my right leg would often be the recipient of the shooting pains while I was sitting down.
I was also uncomfortable in general. Sitting, standing and sleeping took a special effort and walking had dissolved into a light shamble. Ok, fine, it was a heavy shamble.
However, as September rounded the corner and me with a due date of 9/24/12, I knew I had to be patient in waiting for my little baby.
At Smiley's workplace, his coworkers were telling him to expect me to go late; as a general rule, first time moms tend to give birth at 41w1d or something along those lines. Don't quote me. But the important part is, they go late. I think we both started mentally psyching ourselves up for that.
At my workplace, my coworkers were convinced that I would go early. Coworkers I hadn't known well would stop and ask if I were alright as I tried gamely to shamble from desk to bathroom and back again several times a day. I assured everyone they would be seeing me until September 24th or longer, if needed. They laughed.
Tuesday, October 9, 2012
Furniture Rearrangement - Mini How-To
It's no secret that Smiley and I have roommates - his sister and her husband live with us. Having roommates not because you need them but because you want them there is a great experience. If we're lucky, one of my friends might be staying with us for a few months next year as well.
We have a 3bed, 2bath house, so I know some people might be starting to count rooms and wonder if we're crazy.
I mean, yeah, a little.
But we both grew up in large families and in houses where rooms were occasionally (or always) shared, so having people around is a normal state of life for us.
So in lieu of this arrangement, Smiley and I are trying to rearrange our bedroom in a way that what is currently the computer room can become the guest bedroom/eventual nursery. This involves having to put our computers in our room. This seems like an impossible task at the present, mostly because right now our room is bursting with Stuff.
Basically, the best way to figure this out is to build a scale model. Here are my steps:
How To Rearrange Your Furniture in the Best Possible Way - For Now
This method works great for anyone who has ever sat there and said "no, actually, I want to see how it works with the couch on the other wall."
This method is great to suggest to anyone who will have you moving furniture in the near future. Heck, you can do this for them - it'll still be less effort on your part.
This method is not needed for those who are excellent at rotating 3D objects in their heads. Go clearly picture your room's furniture all rearranged without my help. You disgust me.
Required items: tape measure, paper, pencil. Imagination.
1: Measure the room, the doors, the windows and any closets. Mark down all measurements on a piece of scrap paper.
2: Make a scale model of your room with those measurements. Depending on the items you have in your room, an inch = a foot scale can work fairly well (so, each foot of room space will be represented by an inch). You can use a large piece of cardboard or poster board to draw your room. Make sure to put in the windows and doors!
3. Measure all of the furniture. Err on the side of too large here; this method will not work if you guesstimate an inch or two short on everything and end up trying to smash a bedframe between two night stands. Personal experience.
4. Make scale models of your furniture out of a separate piece of cardboard or paper. You can be as detailed as you wish, but the only important parts to note are the front and back of an item when it makes a difference (for example, you most likely want the head of your bed against a wall instead of in the open space). (But I won't judge. Do you want you gotta do.)
5. Rearrange it! Now you can easily rearrange your paper model until you come to a design that works for everyone. Again, it might seem like a time consuming way to do things, but unless you REALLY like dragging furniture around, it is worth it.
We have a 3bed, 2bath house, so I know some people might be starting to count rooms and wonder if we're crazy.
I mean, yeah, a little.
But we both grew up in large families and in houses where rooms were occasionally (or always) shared, so having people around is a normal state of life for us.
So in lieu of this arrangement, Smiley and I are trying to rearrange our bedroom in a way that what is currently the computer room can become the guest bedroom/eventual nursery. This involves having to put our computers in our room. This seems like an impossible task at the present, mostly because right now our room is bursting with Stuff.
Basically, the best way to figure this out is to build a scale model. Here are my steps:
How To Rearrange Your Furniture in the Best Possible Way - For Now
This method works great for anyone who has ever sat there and said "no, actually, I want to see how it works with the couch on the other wall."
This method is great to suggest to anyone who will have you moving furniture in the near future. Heck, you can do this for them - it'll still be less effort on your part.
This method is not needed for those who are excellent at rotating 3D objects in their heads. Go clearly picture your room's furniture all rearranged without my help. You disgust me.
Required items: tape measure, paper, pencil. Imagination.
1: Measure the room, the doors, the windows and any closets. Mark down all measurements on a piece of scrap paper.
2: Make a scale model of your room with those measurements. Depending on the items you have in your room, an inch = a foot scale can work fairly well (so, each foot of room space will be represented by an inch). You can use a large piece of cardboard or poster board to draw your room. Make sure to put in the windows and doors!
3. Measure all of the furniture. Err on the side of too large here; this method will not work if you guesstimate an inch or two short on everything and end up trying to smash a bedframe between two night stands. Personal experience.
4. Make scale models of your furniture out of a separate piece of cardboard or paper. You can be as detailed as you wish, but the only important parts to note are the front and back of an item when it makes a difference (for example, you most likely want the head of your bed against a wall instead of in the open space). (But I won't judge. Do you want you gotta do.)
5. Rearrange it! Now you can easily rearrange your paper model until you come to a design that works for everyone. Again, it might seem like a time consuming way to do things, but unless you REALLY like dragging furniture around, it is worth it.
Sunday, October 7, 2012
Nesting Instinct
I'd be lying if I said that my nesting instinct only came out while I was pregnant. I've always enjoyed rearranging furniture and organizing items and decorating. I've always been hampered by a few things though.
The first thing is that I've never really owned furniture. Even right now, in our house, my husband and I own probably less than half of the furniture. To our names, we have an armchair (generously donated by his parents), a bed (generously donated by the trash), a mattress topper (generously donated by his old roommate) and a dining room table and chairs (generously donated by his sister). There a few other items, but the general gist is that there's not much to rearrange.
The second hampering is the items. The stuff. Though we don't have much furniture, my husband and I are both stuff-collectors. I'd like to say he's worse than I am, but the truth is we just have different niches. He has a lot of technology. I have clothes and costumes and books. Both of us have a hard time throwing out items that could be useful to someone, someday, somehow.
So there's a lot of Stuff that could be rearranged but due to the amount of stuff, there's not a lot of rearranging options.
Then there's decorating. Decorating is also hampered. First and foremost, I don't have the discretionary income needed to buy vases or pictures or anything that cannot be used in a, well, useful way. Second, we need all our space for The Stuff. There are no open surfaces that could use a decorate vase filled with decorative beads and maybe wrapped with a decorative ribbon, because it's covered in everything else.
But, oh. The nesting urges still hit, and hard. I'll spend a day rearranging the closet just to try to fit more stuff inside. I'll move our roommates couch at a 90 degree angle to try to open the living room. Once, I put decorative beads into a vase and wrapped it with ribbon. I put it on our dining room table. Later that evening, when our friends were over and we went to play a board game, someone took the decorative piece and kind of shoved it onto another surface.
They weren't being rude. There was just no point to having it there.
Yet, somehow, there's a point to having a pair of nail clippers on my desk, and a vial of perfume that I received as a gift, even though I only use it to anesthetize wounds because it is alcohol based. And a basket of papers that might be important, but aren't important enough to go into my "important stuff" drawer.
If you can make sense of my mind, I'd love to hear about it.
The first thing is that I've never really owned furniture. Even right now, in our house, my husband and I own probably less than half of the furniture. To our names, we have an armchair (generously donated by his parents), a bed (generously donated by the trash), a mattress topper (generously donated by his old roommate) and a dining room table and chairs (generously donated by his sister). There a few other items, but the general gist is that there's not much to rearrange.
The second hampering is the items. The stuff. Though we don't have much furniture, my husband and I are both stuff-collectors. I'd like to say he's worse than I am, but the truth is we just have different niches. He has a lot of technology. I have clothes and costumes and books. Both of us have a hard time throwing out items that could be useful to someone, someday, somehow.
So there's a lot of Stuff that could be rearranged but due to the amount of stuff, there's not a lot of rearranging options.
Then there's decorating. Decorating is also hampered. First and foremost, I don't have the discretionary income needed to buy vases or pictures or anything that cannot be used in a, well, useful way. Second, we need all our space for The Stuff. There are no open surfaces that could use a decorate vase filled with decorative beads and maybe wrapped with a decorative ribbon, because it's covered in everything else.
But, oh. The nesting urges still hit, and hard. I'll spend a day rearranging the closet just to try to fit more stuff inside. I'll move our roommates couch at a 90 degree angle to try to open the living room. Once, I put decorative beads into a vase and wrapped it with ribbon. I put it on our dining room table. Later that evening, when our friends were over and we went to play a board game, someone took the decorative piece and kind of shoved it onto another surface.
They weren't being rude. There was just no point to having it there.
Yet, somehow, there's a point to having a pair of nail clippers on my desk, and a vial of perfume that I received as a gift, even though I only use it to anesthetize wounds because it is alcohol based. And a basket of papers that might be important, but aren't important enough to go into my "important stuff" drawer.
If you can make sense of my mind, I'd love to hear about it.
Friday, October 5, 2012
Every dang time!
Every time I sit down at my computer to type, I bring the dogs with me in the room so that Silas can sleep somewhat undisturbed. Sophie immediately starts sniffing around as though there will be some sort of food somewhere on the ground. In particular, she starts sniffing around Smiley's computer chair and desk with a ferocity that suggests my dear husband must have buried a body under the floorboards.
I mean, normally, I can just be all like "Sophie!" in a stern voice and tell her "no scrounging" and she complies. But when it comes to the area around his desk, she doesn't even give me her "I'm sorry" eyes for a half second before she's back to sniffing around. Some day, when we find a body or something under there, I'll apologize to her.
I think night time with Silas has gotten better. Mostly, I think I might have learned to just go to sleep while I'm sitting up and feeding him. Usually I'll stay awake until he's done eating and then put him on my chest to burp him and that's usually how I'll wake up. The alternative is putting him back in his bassinet.
Putting him back in his bassinet is like throwing a china plate against the wall and hoping it doesn't break - what I'm saying is, it's impossible to do. No matter how fast asleep he seems, no matter how boneless his arms are, the moment he touches the bassinet, he starts making little noises. These little noises become bigger noises and often are accompanied by an episode or ten of spitting up, despite my best efforts to burp him several times during feedings.
And then, before long, the noises become protests which become half cries and at that point I know I need to pick him up or the full cry will start.
Every. Single. Time.
(I feel compelled to note, if you haven't already, that this is through the eyes of my sleep deprived brain. I think that I actually fall asleep at some point and wake up to the fussing.)
Anyhow, today marks his 4-week "being alive" anniversary. Smiley and I have taken care of a baby for nearly a month and he hasn't broken yet. I think, just maybe, we might be able to pull this off.
I mean, normally, I can just be all like "Sophie!" in a stern voice and tell her "no scrounging" and she complies. But when it comes to the area around his desk, she doesn't even give me her "I'm sorry" eyes for a half second before she's back to sniffing around. Some day, when we find a body or something under there, I'll apologize to her.
I think night time with Silas has gotten better. Mostly, I think I might have learned to just go to sleep while I'm sitting up and feeding him. Usually I'll stay awake until he's done eating and then put him on my chest to burp him and that's usually how I'll wake up. The alternative is putting him back in his bassinet.
Putting him back in his bassinet is like throwing a china plate against the wall and hoping it doesn't break - what I'm saying is, it's impossible to do. No matter how fast asleep he seems, no matter how boneless his arms are, the moment he touches the bassinet, he starts making little noises. These little noises become bigger noises and often are accompanied by an episode or ten of spitting up, despite my best efforts to burp him several times during feedings.
And then, before long, the noises become protests which become half cries and at that point I know I need to pick him up or the full cry will start.
Every. Single. Time.
(I feel compelled to note, if you haven't already, that this is through the eyes of my sleep deprived brain. I think that I actually fall asleep at some point and wake up to the fussing.)
Anyhow, today marks his 4-week "being alive" anniversary. Smiley and I have taken care of a baby for nearly a month and he hasn't broken yet. I think, just maybe, we might be able to pull this off.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Brought Silas to work today
I brought Silas to meet my coworkers today - he was wide eyed, awake
and alert throughout the whole visit, and behaved like he was the best
baby ever.
I told my manager that if I got permission to plunk him in a bassinet next to my desk, I'd be there tomorrow to work. I'd even put the bassinet under my desk, to hide him from distracting my coworkers with his massive cuteness.
My manager didn't seem thrilled at the proposition.
But if I understand the laws correctly, they have to give me time to use my pump at work and theoretically, I could just feed my baby directly instead instead of going through a middleman/machine. I mean, he totally only fusses when he's hungry. There's no way this plan could go wrong.
I told my manager that if I got permission to plunk him in a bassinet next to my desk, I'd be there tomorrow to work. I'd even put the bassinet under my desk, to hide him from distracting my coworkers with his massive cuteness.
My manager didn't seem thrilled at the proposition.
But if I understand the laws correctly, they have to give me time to use my pump at work and theoretically, I could just feed my baby directly instead instead of going through a middleman/machine. I mean, he totally only fusses when he's hungry. There's no way this plan could go wrong.
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