Sunday, November 29, 2015

Wondering Minstrel Magic Manic Panic Baby

While two months melted mommy's marginal brain, purple, mauve and chartreuse baby fuss fuss kept the midnight oils burning and churning. Grandmamas flocked from far and wide to pay homage to the awesome infant. Babies and puppies crossed drooly maws as teething tittered and tottered on the edge of infancy. And booby vocab was unlocked in acronymical audaciousness.

In the twelve week wonderland, Miss Chay-chay gets all new levels of sleepless awe and awesome anger. But in between, the cute overwhelms all but the biggest toothiest of smacking babies. No-go naps nullify the nuance of a burgeoning baby brain. And the grabs get good, as milestones are met!




Wonder Weirdo Weeks and the Frangible Frenum

I will always have an excuse for my baby's fussy spells. There's always something. It's not our lot for the long haul. It was purple crying. Intermittently, it is teething. Sometimes it's gas. I'm fairly certain that she is easily overstimulated given how her meltdowns frequently coincide with social events. And she is perpetually "off schedule" in some way or other that predicts a nice long stretched of "I missed my nap WAAAAAAAAAAH." 

But according to current baby trends, we should be entering a "stormy period." These coincide with major leaps in cognitive development. At 12 weeks, babies typically have a little leap during which their motions become less jerky, and babies become keenly more aware of contrasts and patterns in the world around them. This manifests in following movement more deliberately, being "active and "squirmy," blowing saliva bubbles, turning from stomach to back, clearly indicating her reaction to something she finds funny, and (this one is for sure) they start playing around with vocal modulations (practice happy and sad shrieking for their toddler tyrannies to come). The leaps come at "Wonder Weeks." As in "I wonder what the frick happened to my sweet adorable baby" weeks from the literature. I guess all that increased awareness can be overwhelming, so there are a list of stormy type behaviors to be anticipated. 

During these periods, baby is "fussier" and "clingier." She "sleeps less" and "cries more." They may need more holding. Or less. More food or less. And generally these weeks have been called regression weeks. Oh the Chay-chay cha-cha. Forward, back, cha-cha-cha. Back, forward, cha-cha-cha! This either happened last week, is happening this week, or likely will happen next week. It kind of all depends on the baby. 

Anyways, I'm not sure if this all coalesces since Chaya goes back and forth by the hour, but I guess I'll take the advice to be extra attentive this week. She has certainly had her moments this week. But lots and lots of distraction does seem to have helped get some sunny baby moments out as well. 

Then again, maybe "stormy" is apt, since she's a veritable typhoon these days. I don't know how much drool a baby can produce, but Chaya is close to a record holder I'm fairly certain. And her typical propensity for reflux has been boosted twenty-fold with the extra drool she gulps down while eating, playing, and gasping for air before ambiguous happy-sad shrieking. Whatever the source, you can guarantee that she'll gush at random a liquid of varying degrees of opacity. My poor treadmill. If I haven't managed to kill it with my own slow utilization, I'm sure Chaya will manage it in no time. 

As for actual teething, no signs of a prominent tooth yet. I'm told it could take months (hey an excuse for all those "sunny weeks" that aren't 100% sunny). Miles, the leviathan about to eat my baby's head in the picture above (really, his mother yelled from across the room "Don't let him chew on her head!!!") is teething aplenty. At six month, he has five and is working on his sixth. He's also roughly the size of your average one-year old. Having him next to Chaya is endlessly entertaining to me. They cannot possibly be the same species. 

Aside from a near-miss to Miss Chaya's cranium and roughly rivers of drool, things go well enough in babyland. Despite my desire to transition back to boob entirely, no such prognostication is in the sunny-stormy forecast just yet. I did try nursing constantly in the hopes that my clearly demonstrable oversupply (check out our freezer) would suffice if she were fed often enough. During one fussy day that I wasn't really trying, she actually did go all day without a bottle. The following day, as I actively attempted to cut out the bottle and pump routine, she just couldn't do it. Bottles were broken at the twilight hour and Andrew set upon several misguided Martian strategies for calming (and or working up) his disappointed Venutian. But, after feeling the only resource for "it's not so bad, this is fine this way" was to liken Chaya's inefficient nursing to Hiroshima and Hitler all in one, I have to agree that it is a burden I've been willing to take on for the duration of Chaya's pre-solids life. It is frustrating when the little Dickens fusses and thrashes as if nothing can be extracted from a bosom blossoming with baby juice. It's frustrating that after that rejection, I'll pump twice what she needs in a follow up bottle. But it's also really a miracle that we have preserved a healthy nursing relationship and that I'm able to provide so much milk by any means. Go strong family support and modern technology. And hey, if she EBF'd we'd miss watching her trick of holding her own bottle for a few minutes at a time. 

And on that note, baby is fully asleep in the boba and her neck is flopping back enough to require two hands to hold. 

So I bid you all a happy Day
! May it be full of wonder and short stormy periods. 




Ask Not For Whom the Babe Stirs She Naps for no wo/man...

Dear friendly people on the trails behind my house:

My baby doesn't sleep more than two hours a shot these days and has recently decided naps are lame. She only sleeps if I'm wearing her and walking and only after a lot of walking; and she will wake up if I stop and sometimes even if not. 

So I appreciate how adorable you (rightfully) think she is. I want to stop and let you fawn on my darling. Truly, I do. But my day depends on this nap sticking. I'm sorry for being a jerk. I hope you heard my whispered "thanks" before the "one step closer and I'll disembowel you" grin repelled you from further interaction.

But seriously, your life means nothing to me at this point. And your adorable children do trigger all those hormonal hot buttons, but only for so long. This is not a pleasant stroll I'm taking to celebrate the break in the weather. THIS IS SURVIVAL! You have been warned. So, so, so sorry to be an a*hole.

Love, 

Chaya's Mum

Yes we've reached that mental milestone in which baby is aware of the world at all times, but we have not reached any mental milestone in which she's capable of mentally regulating that awareness and, say, falling asleep despite that world (I hear that kicks in around age forty or so?). 

Existentially, she probably equates sleep with non-being. The horror. And she fights it like mad, with a one-two punch of shrieks (happy and mad) and giggles (also happy and mad, because trust me giggling can be furious).

Used to be she would nurse herself to sleep and stay that way until the next time she pooped or needed nursing. Now she will still get milk drunk on the boob, but pop her off and you have between two minutes and fifteen before she will begin to rage. Or giggle and coo. It's fifty-fifty depending on the time of day. 

By night, she's kind of a ravenous mess of a comfort nurser/feeder. Boy are we going to have eating disorders aplenty to stave off. Bulemia, based on all that spit up. Nighttime binging. Comfort eating aplenty. But I digress.

At night, she's constantly on the verge of meltdown due to the accumulated dearth of good sleeping and the piling on of stimuli through the day. This doesn't mean that she isn't also adorable and charming. Just that the charm factor stops and starts between scrunchy faces of doom. And often the big soother is falling just shy of asleep on a nipple. Bottle or boob will do. And she doesn't not like having said nip removed. It will cause voracious and vituperative protest. She's also fifty-fifty about whether the flow of milk from said nipple is desired or offensive. 

Andrew sees the first two protests as signs of hunger. Oddly enough, after she's consumed about four ounces or so and has the exact same reaction he then views it as her being nighttime fussy and decides it's best to avoid the giant baby belly explosion by following her cues for more. But that's an issue for another day. At least he does in fact stop taking her at her word eventually. In fairness, he's very respectful of my suggestions about feeding to avoid the deluge. He doesn't always agree with me, but he listens. Especially after the white ooze puddles on his night clothes. 

So that's evening. 

In the morning, she will become so thoroughly distracted with cooing and interacting with the world, that she may well forget that she even wanted to eat if she ever did. She may also take a power-nap on somebody's lap. Maybe. If she does, that probably counts as her "nap" for the day, so I prefer that she not. Except she's so darned cute when she does.

And in the middle of the night - or MOTN in online forumese speak - she actually goes about her business and mostly goes back to sleep. Just not for very long these days. 

Anyways, napping. Yes, that's not working as well as it used to. She doesn't nurse herself to sleep by a longshot. And she doesn't really anything herself to sleep at this point. 

Pacifiers can work if she's just in the right mood, but not usually enough for an actual nap. Maybe if I give her a pacifier in a low stimulation environment and hold her the entire time, she will give me a half hour. The carseat might squeeze out a half hour after a good half hour of pre-napping screaming. Laying down in her bassinet decidedly wakes her up. She'll play in there but gets more awake than less. And I'm just not ready for crying it out. I actually hate the idea, but especially before a baby can make mental connections that she can't... not doing it. 

And my go-to standard of "throwing her in the boba and taking a walk" works, but with some major caveats. She now takes fifteen minutes at least to fall asleep in there once she's calmed down enough to want to be in there. She must be walked while sleeping for at least 90 minutes before she will stay asleep if you stop. Once you pass ninety minutes, she may well be out for another hour (creating a whole new problem involved with wondering whether you dare wake a sleeping baby for fear of the hunger that will come raging around with it if she sleeps any longer). But you have to get that far first. 

I'm sure we'll find a solution out of desperation and necessity sooner than later. There's only five bajillion books and an infinite number of helpful opinions on the matter. We'll tailor suit one to our needs. Because the weather is getting bad and baby is getting heavy. Mommy's back is starting to tweak something fierce as it is. 

Until then, I don't think my baby sleeps. If you find a pink sock in a puddle on the trail, chances are I left it there because I just couldn't risk leaning over and waking the child. It's sweet of you to notice, but please understand if I glare at you and whisper only a mild thank you while snatching it from your helpful hand. I am really, truly grateful. But I miss sleep. 




Sleepless Out of Seattle Weird Week and the Wonder Baby.

So, I believe when we left off, baby had decided to stop sleeping. She's still kind of going with that vibe. I say this as she's snoozing in the boba (hence why I'm able to type anything), but it won't last. Sometimes sleep wins, but only briefly. She rallies like none other. Most of the time. 

As I think I mentioned, she's having major cognitive leaps right now. Which is awesome, but also awful depending on the hour. Er, second. Dude, she can hold a toy! I mean she can't just smoothly reach for it and take it from my hand with a gurgled "thankee missy", but should her hands happen to contact it when flailing at it, her grip gets on it and she can look at it with surprise and wonder and... put it in her mouth! Of course. This is a step up from "grabbing all fabric and dangly necklaces around and... putting them in her mouth." She shook that darned rattle!

But as before, this all comes at a cost. Like the last shred of my sanity and roughly three years of my life. 

No more long naps. 



Turns out, she's exhibiting all the indicia of what is commonly referred to as the four month sleep regression. Well, except she never slept through the night anyways, so some of it is irrelevant. I was so cocky, thinking that since she already didn't sleep well through the night that I was immune. I forgot about naps. Oh boy did I. Those things are important. 

So, between three and five months, babies start to develop genuine circadian rhythms. They have sleep patterns that involve waves of deeper and lighter sleep, just like grown ups. No more newborn zonk. No more "sleeping anywhere." Nope, she's too young to really sleep train, but she's too old to just konk. Whoopeedeedooda. If the situation changes between when she fell asleep and a lighter sleep in her sleep cycle, she'll wake up. If she's somewhere with stimuli, she'll never shut off. If she falls asleep in the carseat, you've probably blown a nap and she'll be crazy the rest of the day. The boba's days are numbered

There are a billion recommendations for approaching this, but common themes emerge: (1) everything we could possibly try will scar her somehow - either she'll be unable to ever self-sooth and be a needy wreck, or maybe she'll be damaged and unable to form adult attachments, but something; (2) she should probably be sleeping about ten hours at night and five hours during the day; (3) your baby/my baby is not the exception probably; (4) babies this age get overtired after being awake for two hours at a time; (5) overtired babies just continue getting more and more overtired and sleeping worse and worse - oh boy; (6) babies respond to ritual and consistency; (7) babies sleep better when they go to bed a little earlier - most are recommending like 6 or 7 bedtime, which is way later than we've been doing. 

After that, I can basically duct tape her to my body while writhing like a jelly fish in a dark room or abandon her in said dark room. Or do something in between. It all works miracles for a select few and totally doesn't work for several others. So my choice! No matter what, there's no such thing as "no-cry" with our little communicator. 

So, I'm a little screwed. Especially with a big trip coming up next week, which I'm promised will throw off even a very well scheduled baby. 

But we're going to work on it. I am hanging on to my boba sleep crutch for the rest of her third month. It doesn't work as well as it used to. But it actually gets her to sleep sometimes and is still the only way to squeeze more than thirty minutes out of her recently (sometimes). I'm practicing naptime rituals, even if they're fairly ineffective for getting her to sleep. I'm contemplating how much crying there will be in the four month future. 

Last night we tried the "earlier bedtime." It was not a fair run. The prior two nights, we'd gone up a bit earlier, with her upstairs by eight and me joining at 8:30 or 9:00, when she'd actually fall asleep. This was kind of great, because she slept - for real - more than four hours in one stretch both nights. So I was starting to preach the gospel of earlier bedtime. Makes sense, since she usually gets fussy around 7, which may well mean that it's past her bedtime window. As suggested. 

Last night, though was not a fair test. Basically, she tore through two naps in thirty minutes of non-napping and was a total wreck by six. She was alternating howling at daddy, cooing at daddy and mommy, clinging to mommy, making weird dinosaur unhappy noises at the poster, and nodding off while being held. So we put her to bed at 7:30. 

The positive being that this meant I was put to bed around 8:00, since I go up with her. That is the only ritual that works consistently, and I'm not changing it yet. And I darned well took advantage of the earlier bedtime to bed myself. 

The downside being that she decided actually she was going to wake up every two and a half hours. Ok she slept for three hours once. So we had a two and a half, a two and a half, a three, and an hour. I think she's also sick, because she's been breathing a little funny and making whimpering noises in her sleep sometimes. Lucky mommy and daddy. 

Anyways, I am still going to keep trying at least getting her into bed by eight. And, well, I think we're screwed on naps for the next two weeks, but I'll do my best to lay the groundwork for the future. 

In the meantime, my husband sees less and less of us awake, but yesterday we got a little bonus time due to a power outage at work. He may have to work this weekend unfortunately as a result. And I'm winging it at the office since Gramma Pam is ill. Nervous doesn't cover it but at least I made it in one piece and the doors are snugly secured. 






Sleep Psycho Cycles and the Grabby Gaga

We continue on our quest for world dominance and/or a few extra hours of Sleep in the Time of Cognitive Developments. 

Chaya improves her hand-to-mouth tour of the world around her. She is by no means particularly coordinated, but he intentions are clearer by the day, and her alacrity at grasping and gumming increases exponentially by the hour. Each session begins with a little amnesia, some struggle, and eventually delights and revelations. Things! More things! In my mouth! I can lick them! I can chomp on them! I can suck on them! And sometimes they get stuck on my hand when I'm flailing and they make noises until I'm no longer amused by thoroughly panicked but then ooooooh bright shiny thing! In addition to the toys (and sunglasses, because mommy is daft about her future woes) offered to Miss Chaya, she's started to grab my hair, the hose for my breast pump, my phone, the cord for my phone, drawstrings, necklaces, and - my favorite since she currently has talons instead of fingers - my armpit. Grabby grabby baby. 



Grabby baby who still loathes tummy time, but can endure it now for minutes at a time if mommy joins her and keeps her thoroughly entertained. I'm convinced that we need to have her on a mat with better traction. I think she's got the basic rolling and scooting motions, but she keeps slipping on her activity mat. Which I'd find frustrating for sure. She usually ends her tummy times with an unhappy howl and we resume the nursing that was previously truncated by "ooooh shiny thing" and/or some proclamation by mommy that no we do not tear mommy's nipples off and maybe it's time for a burping break so Chaya can spit up roughly 2/3 of what she's just eaten and have room for more!

And of course, as we hone her mind, mommy desperately tries to work out the sleep. 

Good news: Chaya was so totally tuckered that she took her morning nap yesterday without protest. Mommy fought hard and long and managed to squeeze out a second nap by running up and down the stairs several times while a half conscious baby protested upon a premature awakening. It was sweaty, mommy was massively in a calorie debt hole and her bladder was shy of bursting, but we got a full nap in gosh darnit. 

Did it help? I'm not sure. Chaya actually seemed totally beat by about 5:30 p.m. last night. Shoving things in your mouth is exhausting. She was nearly asleep in the boba, and cried with recrimination upon being removed. Very atypical behavior of our little oral adventurer. 

And how about the earlier bedtime? We got her ready for bed closer to 8 this time. I think she was asleep - after a long period of trying to flirt with mommy - at about 8:45 p.m. And... ok, tonight her tummy was bothering her I think. She is a sensitive baby and always has some gas, but with the gas and reflux I tried cutting out/down dairy for a few weeks. Yesterday, attempting to debouch from a major calorie hole, I had a quest bar. Which is primarily milk protein. I have no idea if the two are related, but it was a miserable stomach gurgling kind of evening and as a mother it is my job to find a way to blame myself for anything and everything that ever occurs. Still a gurgling evening which was shockingly book-ended by good sleeps. Three hours on the one side and four and a half on the other. With a middle ooey gooey center of waking up every hour and not getting back to sleep for at least a half hour

First, she woke up after her eleven o'clock feed, mewing with abandon. I decided that - despite my husband's sleeping corpse upstairs - it was most likely to work to get her back to sleep by repeating our bedtime ritual. So I got her in bed in my lap and sang oh so quietly to her for fear of stirring the Andrew beast. He was, naturally, stirred. And restless. Oh god, so restless. It was cold in the bedroom. He had somehow managed to shed the blanket at some point. He wanted it back even though it was underneath my semi-comatose (finally) baby. So tugging commenced, rocking baby in a less than soothing fashion until I hissed vituperations at the still somnolent blanket-thief. Confused, but assured that his course of action would be met with blows, he then commenced to shimmy down the bed so that he could envelop himself in the available bed cover. This caused further rocking of a totally different nature. 

Chaya fell heavy into my arms. The night was quiet. I slowly moved to lower myself down into my pillows when BAM a pillow plummeted over my face. Chaya was just nearly implicated, but remained - thank god almighty - asleep. I was thrilled, fishing myself out from under the pillow, glaring at my slightly snoring husband and heaving the pillow back at his head. It skipped off his head and onto the ground. I imagine to his confusion, as he woke shortly afterwards, looked at me, looked at the pillow and then got out of bed to retrieve it. Husband rolled and rocked a bit more and managed to use those adult skills of self-soothing, while I continued holding the baby. Realizing all the while that I would have to move her to sleep on my own. Gradually, gingerly, I propped the pacified against her lips and shimmied down into the bed. I pulled her across my chest. I propped my burdened arm with a pillow and I finally fell asleep...

For maybe fifteen minutes before Chaya began the cycle anew. This time, it wasn't even hunger. It was distress not otherwise specified. I left the bedroom wondering if she needed a change. I stood there in confusion uncertain what to do next. The husband came out as well. I thought perhaps he was there to make sure I wasn't going to throw the baby down the stairs in a moment of panic. He did actually go downstairs, so I thought maybe he intended to wait down there and attempt to catch her. But he came back up shortly afterwards, kissed us on the forehead and went into his bathroom. Not wanting to keep him up and continue the restless blankie battle cycle, I went downstairs. Chaya spat out one pacifier. I located another one. She spat that one out too. I changed her diaper, which was relatively clean although she reeked of baby methane. Finally, she started to drowse and I crept back upstairs with only a little extra shuffling... getting everything gingerly in position, I feel back asleep... 

For another hour. At this point, it genuinely had been a while since she'd eaten and she did turn out to be hungry. Normally, I pump in the middle of the night. Normally, she sucks one side for a bit, becomes tired, and then passes out in my lap, so an entire side requires a little bit of stimulation. 

Not so much this evening. At the other feed, she had taken both sides and suckled before sleep rousing yet again. There was about an ounce and a half left to pump, which is worth pumping, but not at the risk of having a wide eyed frenzied baby on my hands. So I went back upstairs and nursed there. No pumping. Just letting her suckle to her writhing baby butt's discontent and then easing her back to sleep with the THIRD pacifier of the evening. 

At this point, it was about three in the morning. Given how the night was going, I figured we were in for frequent feedings and no sleep, and I well resigned myself to the deal. 

So naturally, Chaya changed the rules and slept for four and a half hours. Four and a half! Not natural or easy sleep. It was as restless as her daddy's sleep. There were farts aplenty. At about six a.m. she obviously splurged into her diaper. There was rolling and discomfort and free arms waving from all directions. But she did sleep. I would see the clock at 4. Then 5. Then 6. and finally at 7:50, we agreed it was morning. 

My boobs certainly did. I didn't know they got that full. Usually, between pumping and Chaya clustering, they get pretty soft. These puppies were about to burst and baby's appetite was ready for them. I don't think she's ever nursed that efficiently in her life, but it was a physical relief. Even if now I worry that morning boob is yet another thing (in addition to bottles) spoiling her into lazy nursing. Though I'll grant that she's gotten a lot more efficient at sipping up these last drops. Sometimes I panic that I must be running out of milk, until I try pumping any time other than right after a feeding. And when I remember that when I was pumping a whole lot, she was bottle feeding a lot. She currently doesn't do much of that, and some of it is either just because she's in a particularly upset mood and can't handle the challenge of nursing, or because it's become part of the daddy daughter bedtime ritual. 

And Andrew didn't actually miss his carpool, though it was close. I woke at 5 and turned off the alarm clock, because like hell I was risking anything stirring the beast at that point. I poked my husband and he responded vaguely. Since he often take five to ten minutes to get out of bed after that, I thought little of it and drifted back off until about 5:40, when I noticed he was still in bed and I poked him more urgently. Another round of bedroom noises and tentative head-kisses as I prayed the baby would not wake and the husband would make it in time to not officially be late-late. 

And here we are again. At a new day. I'm not really sure where Chaya is ni the land of slumber. We are rounding the perilous forty minute mark in her morning nap. I have black out curtains and a white noise machine and all kinds of things to try in the office in December. But currently, I'm just trying to milk this boba crutch a little bit longer. And crossing my fingers as she writhes about as baby's wont to do. Wish me luck world!!

No comments: