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So now that the Bean has been eating solid foods for a month or so, I've been on the lookout for some nice hard biscuits or cookies for her to chomp on while she's teething. All the usual suspects, upon close inspection, had some ingredients that I wasn't comfortable with. So, I set out in search of an organic teething biscuit that didn't contain a lot of added sugar, trans fat, or potential allergens. Even the health food section of my usual grocery store, where I've been able to locate lots of great organic babyfood, didn't have anything.
I did find a recipe for hard toast made from non-wheat bread dried in the oven, but that was rather boring for her and she lost interest quickly. I also tried frozen mini-bagels: no dice.
I finally came across Healthy Times Organic Teething Biscuits yesterday in the health food section of Hannaford. They're a hit with the Bean, and they contain:
Organic Wheat Flour, Organic Unsulphured Molasses, Organic Cold Pressed Sunflower and/or Safflower Oil, Calcium Carbonate, Natural Flavor, Vitamin E . (Dairy free, soy free.)
It's great that many mainstream grocery stores are now carrying this type of food. I try to feed the Bean organic food with no fillers, etc., whenever possible - I can only hope she'll continue to eat healthfully when the choice is hers to make.
I picked up some Cadbury Creme Eggs for myself on the way out too. Do as I say, not as I do, Baby.
I was shocked, horrified, and saddened when I read this post on the Lactivist Breastfeeding Blog: http://thelactivist.blogspot.com/2007/02/city-kids-daycare-chain-charges-mom.htmlThe City Kids Daycare chain in Ohio charges $50 extra per week for breastfed infants because, according to them, breast milk is a biohazard and requires extra preparation. They store expressed breast milk in a separate fridge with a BIOHAZARD sticker. The blog posting above covers how ludicrous both these claims are, and how they're completely opposite from actual reality, so I won't get into it here.I also won't get into a long-winded discussion about the innumerable benefits of breastfeeding for babies, mothers - and daycare centers(!) - because I think that's better addressed in a separate post. But I'd like to share this info with my readers. If you wish to take action, there are email addresses and phone numbers in the Lactivist's blog post listed above. I sent the owner of the center the following message (since I do not live in Ohio to attend any protests):Ms. Elam:
I was shocked and saddened to read about the policy of your daycare center to discriminate against breastfed infants. If, by your logic, breast milk is a biohazard, then what is a baby's spit up? Do you charge extra for babies who spit up? What about babies who urinate? Is urine not a bodily fluid, and therefore a biohazard, by your standards?
It's a sad, sorry state of affairs that people trusted to care for our children can be so ill-informed and ignorant. I hope that, now that this "policy" is gaining so much attention, you will educate yourself and your staff about the incredible benefits of breastfeeding.
Sincerely,. . .I didn't expect (and indeed have not received a response). I am truly grateful that my daughter's daycare center is happy to feed her the expressed breast milk I provide. They encourage breastfeeding and have several rocking chairs for moms who are able to drop in during the day to nurse. They also know that the breastfed babies get fewer colds and other illnesses on top of the other benefits of breastfeeding. In other words, they are not backwards and ignorant.
...date night!
Hubby and I have a date tonight! Sure, we've been out together without the Bean a few times, but these "dates" were before the blessed, glorious SLEEPING THROUGH THE NIGHT, and we were usually too tired for more than a quick dinner close to home.
Tonight we actually have plans out of town(!). It's no biggie, really - it's just like any other Saturday night we would have spent pre-pregnancy. But as I showered (and shaved, *winkwink*) this morning, I realized I was pretty excited!
It's amazing how having a baby changes your marriage. You expect it to bring you closer, and it does. You expect it to bring incredible joy and happiness, and it does. But I certainly didn't anticipate how the challenges of extreme sleep deprivation and being on-call 24-7 would test our bond. Even when we're together, working as a team, sometimes it feels like we're miles apart: focused on getting everything done and drained of energy and patience and affection when there finally is a break in the action.
For the first few months, I was really worried. I was constantly on edge with Hubby. He bore the brunt of my frustration, sometimes deservedly so but most of the time - not. I needed someone to snap at, and I couldn't snap at the helpless screaming baby, so Hubs was an easy target. And I was scared. Is our marriage going to survive this? I thought having a baby had a positive impact on your relationship! My mother and married-with-baby friends assured me that it was normal and would pass...I wasn't so sure. I love this guy! Why am I lashing out at him? He was (is) endlessly patient with me, god-love-'im.
~~~~~~~~~~
Luckily, around 5 months (OK, maybe 6), the fog lifts, and most of the stress of taking care of a fussy baby turns to fun as she laughs more, sleeps more, and cries less. Now there are those moments when the bustle of the day is behind us, when the three of us relax in the Bean's room with her nightlight and jammies on... And we lock eyes as she plays between us. And without a word, we know: we've never been closer or more in love.
A huge part of what I love about my husband today is what an incredible father he is to our Bean.
Of course it's not all chocolate covered strawberries - we still have our tense times. And he is still endlessly patient when I lash out. But I'm no longer worried that we're in trouble.
And as much as I love our three-of-us time, I know that Hubby and I need time alone too, to sustain our happiness as time passes. Now, when that Bean goes down for her glorious 12 hours of sleep, or, in this case, when Grandma is here to babysit, we've got to nurture that bond. So, date night it is.
Poor Bean! We've been waiting on the FIRST TOOTH to rear its razory edge, but, in true Bean style, she's skipping the middleman and cutting two at once. She was more than fussy today: all out crying. It breaks my heart to see her little face, chin trembling, arms flailing - and real tears. Thank goodness nursing seems to help - at least I feel like I'm doing something for her. Why does nature make teething so painful? Doesn't seem right.
So not only do I have my wonderful Valentine Bean this year, but yesterday while I was at work, hubby cleaned the house (including the tumbleweeds of dog hair that I've been swearing at for two weeks) AND presented me with a platter of chocolate covered strawberries when I walked in. He made them himself. Life is good.----------
P.S. Shortly after I originally posted this, the UPS man delivered a beautiful bouquet of flowers from my Valentine! He went all out this year... Hmmm... How can I reward him for these romantic gestures? ;-)
I overheard Hubby the other day, feeding the Bean applesauce:
"Oh, hello, mademoiselle! Are you ready for your first course? Today's special is apples! These are gourmet apples picked especially for you from only the finest orchards. These delicious apples are from...Hawaii! They're PINEapples."
Then last night when he was putting on her high chair tray (in baby-talk, mind you):
"OK, lift up your fingers! Lift 'em up or they'll get chopped off! And we'll have to bring them to the science fair...and then someone will find them in their Wendy's take-out."
Never a dull moment... LOL :-)
While we're on the subject of spit-up, my mother recently told me that my grandmother and her sisters (all of whom had a gaggle of kids) used to say, "When you turn your head and can't smell spit-up on your shoulder, it's time for another baby."
I thought of that and smiled as I wiped huge chucks of cottage cheese off my back seat after dropping the Bean at daycare this morning. (How DOES she manage to miss herself entirely and fire that stuff all over the seat, which is well beyond her feet?)
But back to my grandmother and her sisters. A few months back I was crying to Nana about how the Bean was not sleeping well at night. "She has her days and nights confused. You have to turn her upside down." Normally, this would seem totally irrational. But I was beyond sleep-deprived and way past desperate. Pen in hand, I said, "OK, Nana, this is very important. Tell me exactly what I have to do."
She chuckled. "Before you put her in for the night, just flip her over so she's upside down, then swing her around upright again, and put her in her crib. It always worked for me and my sisters."
No lie: that night she slept for 10 hours straight. She's been sleeping through ever since. It may have something to do with that fact that that night was also the Bean's third (and final) night of Ferber sleep training, but I'll still tell any desperate parent: turn that baby upside down!
So the Bean has been raspberrying for a couple months now. It's her favorite. She raspberrys when she's smiling, when she's laughing, and even when she's crying - I'm not sure which is cutest. She raspberrys oatmeal all over the kitchen, and she delights in the reciprocal raspberry. When she's feeling especially affectionate, she grabs the hair on either side of my head for leverage, then pulls herself in for a big wet raspberry on mommy's chin.
I'm sure this phase will fade when she cuts teeth, but for now, this mama's loving it.
At my two-week check up, my midwife (whom I love to pieces) said, in words more gentle than these, "You have four months to lose this weight and still call it baby weight. After that, it's just WEIGHT."
That really hit home with me, and I was determined to use the extra calories that breastfeeding burned to my advantage. I was eating well and walking with the Bean and her silly dog every day for an hour. The weather was beautiful, she loved the fresh air, and we all benefited. The weight was falling off.
Then my maternity leave ended. I went back to work just before a huge project deadline at work. 12-hour days nixed our daily walks, and stress drove me into Bean Mama stress eating mode (my eternal weakness). It didn't help that I work from home and my office is four feet from the kitchen. Winter descended, the days shortened, and my comfort eating increased.
Once I piled work on top of sleep deprivation, salads and broiled fish just did not appeal to me. I deserved pizza, damn it, and a key lime pie with a side of blueberry muffins to go with the Greek chicken wrap (oh, heavenly GCW).
(On a side note, I was able to get some plus-sized modeling work.)
The magic four-month mark came and went; weight was static. DAMN! I missed the window. I can't seem to get back into the zone. I ordered a couple "post partum" work out DVDs, which are currently collecting dust. Pre-pregnancy, I did hour-long kickboxing classes 4-5 days a week and ate well. Now I'm a huge, unmotivated blob. And I have to be in a wedding in T-minus 3 months. And summer is speeding toward me like a locomotive (can I still wear sweaters and my Lane Giant jeans when it's 80 degrees out?).
It's time to stop making excuses. The Bean is eating solid food now, and I want to instill healthy habits in her. I've got to get back on track.
I'm reading What's Going on in There? How the Brain and Mind Develop in the First Five Years of Life by Lise Eliot, Ph.D. (excerpt and more info on Amazon). I wish I had read it before the Bean was born - I wouldn't necessarily have done anything differently - it's just interesting to know how and why certain things happen. Ok - sorry - that's ridiculously vague. Here's one example.
Everyone knows that babies put EVERYTHING into their mouths - it's how they explore the world. But why? What I did not know was that the ability to perceive through touch develops from head to toe. A baby can perceive and learn more by touching something with his mouth than with his hands, and "even at five years of age, children's touch sensitivity remains greater in the face than in their hands" (page 132).
Eliot goes on to describe an experiment in which "one-month-olds were able to recognize an object visually that they had previously explored only with their mouths. In this study, babies were allowed to suck on (but not to see) one of two different pacifiers - either a smooth or nubby sphere. Then they were shown larger versions of both objects. The result was clear: they preferred to look at the type of pacifier they had just sucked on rather than the one they had never felt. So not only can young babies detect different shapes with their mouths, they actually form an abstract perception of an object - a mental image that makes the leap between their tactile and visual senses." They repeated the experiment letting the babies hold the pacifiers in their hands only - and they were not able to recognize them visually afterwards (page 132).
Fascinating! I can't put this book down. I highly recommend it for any parent, grandparent, or psycho read-everything-ever-published-on-pregnancy-and-child-development type like myself.
One thing I've learned as a new mom is that with motherhood comes a sick obsession with bodily functions. Did she pee? Was it DAMP or SOAKED? And more importantly - did she POOP? What color was it? Was it runny? They even want you to write it down.
There's another bodily function that you don't have to document so closely: spit up. Some babies just do it a little bit when they're newborns and quickly out grow it. Not my Bean. She is a steadfast SPITTER. Doc says she'll probably out grow it when she's one or so, but some spit until they're two. TWO? I have never done so much laundry nor been so stained....and fragrant. Inconvenient as it is, however, breast milk spit up is fairly innocuous. It comes out in the laundry and doesn't smell too bad if you clean it up quickly. But I wasn't prepared for the rainbows that would dribble down her chin and splash on the floor when she started solids (the dog likes them though. Gross!).
Anyhoo, I was thinking about all of this as I rinsed some crusty substance or other from my hair this morning, and I realized, just like diaper contents, spit up comes in many varieties.
1. The new friend spit up. "Oh she's precious! Can I hold her?" Sure, just be careful because - BLEP - oh, sorry about that. People usually say, "Oh, that's ok," but their horrified expression and frantic scrubbing betrays them.
2. The stealth bomber. How does she manage to project that stuff from her face and not get a drop on HERSELF? My fave was when she somehow managed to spit up DOWN my turtleneck sweater directly into my cleavage...yet there wasn't a trace on her or on the outside of my sweater. Good. At least I didn't have to change again.
3. The OMG this poison is burning my skin -up. This is my Hubby. I think he's finally given up, but for the first three months, as soon as she got him, he'd hand her to me so he could run and change his shirt. Again, and again, and again. Just rub it in, babe. It's hypoallergenic.
4. Prunes.
5. Carrots/sweet potatoes/squash.
6. The car seat spit up. Is it the angle of the seat? Do the straps press on her belly? I have never identified the cause, but the Bean spits up EVERY time I strap her in her car seat, soaking whatever cute little outfit or jacket I had carefully chosen and wrestled her in to. EVERY time.
7. The airplane. It's so fun, laying on your back, flying the baby around. She smiles, she giggles, she loves it ("You're playing with fire," a voice in your head says). Splat. In the face. (She smiles, she giggles, she loves it.)
8. The friend's story. I love this one too much to not share it. My friend, who, BTW, rarely curses, took her bean to the doctor. After a long day at work, followed by the baby peeing on the examining table, she had had enough. When the baby then spit up over her shoulder, down her shirt, and onto the floor, she exclaimed, "motherFUCKER!" then blushed when she saw the doc's horrified expression.
9. The bath. Never fails. If the spit up doesn't come at the beginning of the bath, filling the water with the cottage cheese you were in there trying to wash off in the first place, it comes at the end. "Nice and clean, Bean...." SPLAT.
10. The kiss. (You can see this one coming.) "Oh, mommy loves her Bean. Come here, give me a kiss..." Splat. Right in the kisser. GAG.
I've been meaning to get this down on "paper" for quite some time, so I figured it was a logical place to start.
Pregnancy: 10 long months to wonder, worry, ponder, and plan. I read everything I could get my hands on: books, magazines, Web sites, blogs, etc., etc. There is such a glut of "information" to sort through, to consider, and to assign weight. Every resource says something a little different. But, after all my reading about child birth options, two spoke to me: water birth and Hypnobirthing.
I was determined to have a natural birth, and that meant no unnecessary interventions, including induction. As my due date came and went, I became more and more anxious to, of course, meet that little girl who had been rolling and kicking inside of me, and to get the labor process started before I required any "help." I tried the usual: sex (was it good for you?), nipple stimulation (hope none of my dead relatives are watching!), spicy food (great for inducing heart burn but not much else), evening primrose oil inserted at bed time for two weeks (I think this one actually helped soften the cervix, but who really knows?) and so on. Finally, the day before I was supposed to go in for an initial "nudge" as my midwife described it, I told the Hubby, take me to the mall, and we're walking as long as I can stand (it was 95 degrees out and just as muggy, so a venue with AC was my only option). We walked and walked, spent money, walked some more.....nothing.
"Let's go get sushi he said, and I'll make you a wasabi cocktail."
At this point, what the hell.
I, of course, dutifully ordered only veggie and fully-cooked sushi rolls and dunked them in this paste he created of a whole lotta wasabi and a little soy sauce. Heartburn be damned, this baby is coming out tonight.
Went home. Nothing. Went to bed around 9:30. At 11:30 PM I woke up to pee (2 hours! That was a long stretch!) and realized I was a bit crampy. I sat down on the couch and told the Hubs, "Go back to bed - I'll wake you up if it's anything." He was already in the driveway, bag in hand, with the car running. I calmed him down and commenced my Hypnobirthing breathing techniques. As the cramps intensified (still no pain) I thought I'd sit in the hot tub for a while to relax. I sat in the tub and worked on breathing and visualization while he timed the cramps. I still was not convinced that these were contractions, because my belly did not feel "hard as a basketball" as I'd heard it described.
"Can we go to the hospital now?" he pleaded.
"Babe, relax, it's only been like 1/2 an hour."
"Actually, it's 2:30 AM [the time distortion techniques actually worked!], and these contractions are coming every 5 minutes. That's when we're supposed to go."
I called my midwife, and, listening to my description of the cramps, she seemed hesitant to have me come into be checked, but, given their frequency, said it was better to be safe. So we drove the 10 minutes to the hospital and the nurse came in to check me. "You seem pretty comfortable, so I suspect it's still pretty early...but let's take a peek.... Ok, you're at about 5 1/2 centimeters - let's get you into a room!"
I reminded her that I wanted a waterbirth, and she said she'd get the jacuzzi ready (early labor was in the jacuzzi, then I'd move to a tub in my room to give birth).
Turned out my labor progressed too quickly for the jacuzzi, but they started filling the tub in my room. So far I had been fairly comfortable - then they decided to strap on a monitor for a non-stress test (not sure if this is a mandatory test, but I didn't think to ask). Then my midwife was called away to another patient, and the nurse kept the NST going for the next hour. I couldn't roll on my side or move around to get comfortable, and that's when I got out of the Hypnobirthing "zone." I should have insisted that they remove the NST (which was not reporting any problems), but I was not thinking clearly. Hubby was great - rubbing my back, encouraging me to use the hypnobirthing techniques, etc. But I didn't fight hard enough to stay with my breathing....and that's when it started to HURT. "This isn't supposed to hurt," I remember thinking.
It was around this time that my mom arrived. I have never been so happy to see her! My younger sister came shortly afterward, and I remember not wanting her to come in - I was worried that seeing me like this would scare her from ever having kids! But everyone was saying, "You're doing great - you're not scary!" Looking back, I don't think I showed how much pain I was in... I remember Hubs telling everyone "Oh, yeah, she did wonderful - was calm and collected, relaxed the whole time, etc." WHAT? I was out of my mind!
Having my family there for support was wonderful. We had planned ahead of time that just my husband would be with me for the actual birth, so as it got closer mom and sis retired to the waiting room. But knowing that they were there and would come in as soon as the Bean arrived helped me more than I can describe.
The contractions continued to intensify. "I want to get in the tub." I stripped to a tank top and got into the warm, wonderful water. Relief! Then the midwife came back to check my dilation. I was fully dilated but my water hadn't broken yet. She explained that they needed to see my waters to make sure there was no meconium present - so - out of the tub. She offered to break my water but warned that the contractions would intensify. At this point, I just wanted it to be over, so I told her to go for it.
Big mistake. A.) There was meconium present, so waterbirth was out of the question and B.) "Intensify"? More like "breaking your water will cause each contraction to feel like your insides have been plopped into a food processor on PULSE." By now my inner dialog went something like this: Ask for some drugs. NO! You're almost there. It's too late anyway. I can't do this any more! Ask! Say it aloud! No! You have to do it. Breathe.
I never did ask for the meds... Just kept breathing and trying to relax, though I was in agony. I never screamed or swore (choking husband: YOU DID THIS TO ME!) like you see on the movies (has there EVER been a realistic portrayal of labor/birth?) - just kept praying for it to be over. Hubs rubbed and rubbed and rubbed my back and encouraged me the whole time. Definitely could not have done it without him.
The nurse suggested that I sit on the birthing ball... That glorious, bouncy, ridiculous-looking thing SAVED me. I rolled back and forth while Hubs rubbed my back and got some relief during the contractions. "Do you feel the urge to push?" the nurse asked." Not really. "Why don't you just try pushing anyway -- just see if it feels any different?" (She was fantastic - knew what I needed but knew how to suggest it without being intrusive.)
She was right. Now at least I felt I was doing SOMETHING. The pushing helped the pain a bit. After pushing on the ball for a while I moved up to the bed. (DAMN! I really wanted to be doing this in the water.) Pushing was exhausting. I think it lasted about an hour. I felt the nice warm olive oil my midwife poured on my bottom and she said "Reach down and feel your daughter's head." I know it's supposed to be this magical moment, where you cry and scream, "Oh my god, my baby!" but I reached down and thought, "Yeah, great, a head. Whatever. Let's get it O U T." A couple more pushes, and the midwife said to my Hubby, "Come down here and deliver your daughter!" And that he did!
He and the midwife brought her up to my chest - I'll always remember the feeling of the hot umbilical cord on my thighs - and there she was: the most perfect, beautiful, incredible thing I'd ever seen. My Bean.
No drugs so she was AWAKE, AWARE, and ready to nurse. She latched right on and hasn't stopped since.
*****************
Would I go the Hypnobirth route again? Absolutely. Only this time I'd insist that the NST time be limited unless there was a problem, and I'd bring my CDs, and I would STAY IN THE ZONE. Were it not for my slipping back into fear and stress, I would have had a relatively pain free delivery. Still, it was not bad: 9 hours, and only 5 were really gruelling. And the results? Worth a million, million labors.
