Julian - 15 weeks 5 days

Milestones

Julian's tummy time - 15 weeks 4 days

Yesterday's milestones:
- Julian rolled onto his side by himself for the first time
- Julian lifted up his head well during tummy time (even though the book What To Expect The First Year would claim that most babies are already lifting themselves onto their arms)
- Mummy actually felt refreshed after three hours sleep

Hooray!

Scary stuff

Something has made me second-guess everything I do. Okay, it's this: since Julian has gone from being a great, sleeping-well baby to one that wakes every hour throughout the night, I feel like it must be something I do/ don't do. Actually, I'm thinking it might be silent reflux, because he does often break away from feeding in pain, arching his back. But that's a whole other post.

What has been freaking me out now is whether I'm doing things right. In The Contented Little Baby Book, which I've been reading today, I learned that I'm supposed to only boil the water used for formula once. (In fact, until now, I've been using water from the kettle, regardless of how many times it's been boiled.) That made me wonder how many other things I do wrong.

Two nights ago, I started sleeping Julian in a sleeping bag. This was because blankets started to seem unsafe to me, as he could slip under them. But right now, I've read this very disconcerting guide from someone who claims that you should never use a sleeping bag. Something about mould and toxic gases. Yet other SIDS organisations expressly say to use a sleeping bag as an option for safe bedding. *

I've also started looking into the claim that SIDS is caused by toxic gases that are emitted from the mattress, or something. The solution is to use a polythylene mattress cover. So now I want to buy one immediately, this second. The previously mentioned site that pointed me in this direction went on to mention that fabric softeners can open up children's skin to toxicity as well. And I use fabric softeners all the time. Gulp.

Is it any wonder that, during my hours of broken sleep, I am having horrific nightmares about my child? It's worse when you have intermittent sleep, because this means I am having about half a dozen bad dreams per night. A new one every time I lay my head down.

*Someone later pointed out to me that the literature against sleeping bags probably refers to actual sleeping bags, not the sleeveless sleepers that are also called sleeping bags in Australia.

The Singing Mother

My friend Nicki came over the other day, as I was changing Julian's nappy. As I was doing so, I was singing - to no particular tune - "Change your nappy, change your nappy! Change your nappy, make it snappy!"

"Uh-oh," Nicki groaned. "You're a singing mother.

And yes, I guess I am. Like a bad scene from The Phantom of the Opera, I can turn the day's most mundane tasks into a song. And I do. From getting his bottle ready ("Let's get you something to eat! It's better than smelly feet!") to going for a walk ("Let's quickly cross the road/ Let's hope we don't run over a toad"), I can make up a song about it. And I'm probably not giving you a true representation of my song-writing skills because a) my songs usually don't rhyme and b) They're not as funny as some of the examples here. (I'm more likely to sing something like "Let's sit on the couch and push Ali the dog off...")

Someone once told me they can always tell first-time mothers because they're the ones walking down the street singing to their baby, "Look over there - it's the supermarket!" in annoying tuneless fashion. Hey, that's me. Will I do it with kid #2? Who knows?

I'm not sure why I do it, except maybe it's a secret fantasy to be Julie Andrews, who decorated my childhood dreams with her songs from Mary Poppins and The Sound of Music. Either that, or this is the first time I've got an appreciative audience who doesn't care that I'm tone deaf. Yeah, that'll do it.

Help!

I know this is boring stuff and threatening to turn off the three people who regularly check in here, but Julian woke last night at midnight, 1:30am, 2:30am and 4:00 am. I finally took him to my bed where neither of us slept particularly well until 8:45 am. Help!

Sleep, Spiders and Sticking It Out

Julian's bath2 - 14 weeks 5 days

Okay, I hate to go on about the sleep thing, but it's not getting any better, so I have made some enquiries about getting into sleep school, a five-day program which helps you teach your baby how to sleep. (Best part about the program: for the first two nights they give you sleeping tablets and look after your baby!)

Tomorrow we're getting the house treated for spiders. I'm a bit paranoid about the whole thing - they use toxic chemicals, after all. But, since I've seen some horrible white tail spiders about lately - once in Julian's bedroom, once in the bathroom when we took a bath this week - I figure it's better to be exposed mildly to some chemicals than being bitten by a fairly dangerous spider. I've opted only to get the house treated externally, because the poisons control people scared me by telling me if I did it internally, I'd have to cover up every surface and utensil and make sure nothing like toys or dishes or clothes were out. That's just too scary. So, tomorrow we head to my mother's for about eight hours. In the morning, I'm going to the dentist, so it's just an action-packed day all round.

On a gratifying note, I met a new mother yesterday who had twins 12 weeks ago. She sounds exactly like I sounded 6 weeks ago: she's not really breastfeeding because she doesn't think she has enough milk, never has "let-downs", never feels her milk leaking, etc. As a result, she's lost confidence in breastfeeding and pretty much has her twins on the bottle. I urged her to see my lactation consultant if she actually does want to breastfeed. I'm so glad I persisted, because now Julian is almost 100% breastfed. He still gets one bottle of formula a night, but doesn't always drink it, so will have anything from 0 - 220 ml per day. Not bad for a mother who was going to give it all up.


Julian's bath - 14 weeks 5 days

Julian - 14 weeks 3 days

The Qualities I'd Like Him To Have

Here's the silly thing: Julian used to be the kind of miraculous baby that you could put down in his cot awake, and after a few minutes, he'd doze off, no complaining necessary. Then I somehow broke him out of this wonderful habit when I started breastfeeding him. Last night, he woke up four times between the hours of 10pm and 8am, although we managed to resettle him twice. So, it seems like progress, I think.

I've been thinking long and hard about what qualities I'd like to pass on to Julian, so he can fare well in life and be happy. When I was young, my mother stressed the importance of being financially self-sufficient and independent. I had my first paying job (aside from babysitting) as a shop assistant when I was 15, and was already writing for newspapers (while I was at university) when I was 18. By the time I entered the workforce, at 23, I never had to actively seek a job - since then, I've always had offers made to me. I think this has been a gift that's responsible for so much that's positive in my life - my work has been a source of my self-esteem, has given me an identity and has taught me discipline and follow-through.

Confidence? That's a big one. If you don't believe in yourself, you'll be hard-pressed to find others that do. Empathy? Very important. I hope he has the ability to reach out to people, and not put walls up when they needn't exist. I think I learned this lesson best after my car accident in Thailand, when I was airlifted onto a plane. In my stretcher - despite the fact that I was sporting a tan and fetching pyjamas - people studiously avoided looking at me, holding their heads down, embarrassed. Only one guy was game enough to approach me, asking matter-of-factly, "What happened to you?" It was then that I learned that sickness or a handicap aren't things to shy away from. Someone in a wheelchair, for instance, knows you know they're in it, and if you have a long conversation with them without mentioning it once, it becomes awkward for both of you.

I remember meeting a guy who was the recipient of an unusual gift: when his grandmother died, she left him a huge amount of money per year - it was at least $50,000, from memory - with an odd proviso: he had to travel overseas annually, heading somewhere that he'd never been before. I like to think she was trying to broaden his horizons. To stretch not just his geographic boundaries, but his emotional ones, too.

Mostly, though, I'd like my son to be kind and gentle. To bring a spot of happiness into any room that he enters. To know how to make himself happy, but not forget how to make others happy, too.

Finally, Julian is 100 days old today! That's a real milestone!

Update: That "slight" book on sleeping that I turned my nose up at yesterday? Turns out it's been my saviour. Julian slept four times today, and fell asleep tonight by 8pm. Each time it's been easier to settle him. Let's see what the night holds...

A Very Expensive Way To Make Sure A Baby Doesn't Sleep

The cot was not a success. When Julian finally fell asleep last night at 11pm - oh, only four to five hours after his usual bedtime - it was on the double bed with me, where we both tossed and turned, with one interruption for a proper feed, until morning. Don't know what I'm going to do about the cot today...

In other related news, Ali the pug is getting more and more out of whack. Yesterday she pooed on the guest room rug (sorry future guests - you'll never know!) for about the third time this week. And it's not like she doesn't get enough attention. She gets a walk every day, two playdates per week with friends, an occasional trip to the park and a weekly visit her weekly pug playgroup. Sigh. It feels like one of those days, and it's only 10am.

UPDATE: Julian slept for two hours in the day, but again became unsettled at night. We tried everything. Does that tapping/ patting thing you're supposed to do really work? If I was a baby, it would annoy the shit out of me. Anyway, no amount of feeding/ tapping/ rocking/ singing would put Julian to sleep tonight, until David had the bright idea to turn off the stoopid Fisher-Price Ocean Wonders Aquarium. Guess what? That strategy instantly worked.

In the meantime, I've bought a book called Sleep Right, Sleep Tight which promised to be packed full of good information, but is in fact a very slight book which states the obvious: give a baby a bed-time routine, don't overstimulate them before bed, try to calm them and then let them put themselves to sleep. Gosh, parents are a captive market for this stuff.

New World

Julian's big cot - 14 weeks

Entering motherhood is like venturing to a parallel universe. You have to learn a knew language (that of baby signs, instead of words), you have a different role (parent) and your days and nights all blend into one. There's different equipment (Gyminis, change tables), new food (in my case, breastmilk) and, most of all, there's a new community of people. I now make weekly trips to the health care centre for my mother's group, and I've bonded with a new group of women, all of us new, first-time mums.

One nice offshoot of this baby thing is the online community that exists. Through the IVF online bulletin boards I'm on, I've befriended Twizzle, and we talk about taking our kids to Disneyland together one day, even though we're both across the world from each other. Tertia, who's in South Africa, has just arranged an online baby shower for new mum Julie, who is in the US, and when I couldn't sleep last night at 3 am, I decided to buy her something online, even though I've never met - or even directly communicated - with either of them.

In news closer to home, Julian moved to his big cot today. It almost brings a tear to my eye - my little man is growing up!

Bottom of the Class

Julian's new toy - 13 weeks 5 days

Today I went to the council mother's group, and while Julian is the oldest baby in the group - by at least 5 weeks - he also has the poorest sleeping patterns at night. There was almost something gratifying about having the worst sleeper, as if the more hardship I endure in motherhood, the more I'm proving myself as a parent. Crazy, really. Or, maybe it's just my way of seeing the bright side of a bad-sleeping baby, when what I really want is a bub who sleeps through the night.

Also, all these mothers were so glamorous. Same deal when I met with a different group yesterday - these were mums talking about which exercise centres had the best creches, classes and results. These were mothers desperate to fit into their pre-pregnancy jeans, who already find time in their mornings to blowdry their hair straight. I'd love to look that way, but I don't really relate. The main person I'm spending my days with is only 13 weeks old, and I look pretty much the same to him whether I'm wearing ratty pyjamas or an evening frock.

Julian got his first Christmas present today - from my good friend Kirsty - who was pretty disgusted to hear that we'd opened it up immediately. But hey, I'm Jewish. It didn't even occur to me to wait until Christmas Day to open it up. Where am I going to put it in the meantime? Under the TV?

Napping

Julian - 13 weeks 4 days

A part of me (a big part) thought that people didn't really know what they were talking about when they said that all babies had to sleep for x amount of hours per day. My baby's just not a good sleeper, I thought. Everyone's different.

But last night, when he was up at 12:40 am, 3:00 am, 5:00 am and again at 8:30 am, I thought perhaps I should revise my way of thinking. So today I decided to listen to the health care centre nurse, who said I should put him down 90 minutes after he awakens, regardless of whether he's sleepy or not. Then I should leave him for a minute, regardless of whether he's screaming or not. Then I should try and settle him, regardless of how long it takes. Well, so far this morning he's had a 75 minute sleep - a record for him. I then again put him down at lunchtime, and despite screaming for about 5 minutes while I settled him, he is now content. Not asleep, but content.

Imagine if I could have a baby who naps during the day! For four hours or so! Life would truly be different...

Edited to add: It's 5:30 pm, and he's down for his third sleep of the day. Miracle.

Percentile, Shmercentile

Julian - 13 weeks 3 days

I was so excited about getting Julian weighed today at the Maternal and Child Health Care Centre, because Julian has been busting out of his outfits, and I was just sure I had a basketball player on my hands. Well, I was half right. On the weight scale - here's me thinking he's lost weight following a recent bout of the runs - he's 97th percentile. On the head circumference scale - he's 80th percentile. And on the height scale - he's 60th percentile.

Egads. My son is going to be a big-headed, short, fat man.

I know I shouldn't get caught up in these percentile figures, but all I could think of was that he was born at 97th percentile, height wise. Dropped down to 90th percentile at the last visit. And now, three weeks later, he's in the 60th? Sixty is a D grade in some places. Plus, if he keeps dropping 30%, what will be be next visit? Thirtieth? And after that? Zero. It has me worried.

I also held a mother's group at my place today (one of the three that I attend - fickle, aren't I?) and got rid of the dog for the afternoon. Today, the dog (who I will not refer to by name this post, that's how pissed off I am) woke Julian up when he had just managed to fall asleep 30 minutes earlier. This might not be a big deal if Julian slept for more than two hours total the entire day. He's a terrible sleeper during the day. The Health Care Centre said I have to help him sleep more, but there's so much conflicting evidence about soothing. At the moment, he has nothing on his crib, because you're supposed to make sleep a quiet time and he shouldn't have any distractions. But recently, all these mothers have written these reviews on Amazon about how this fershtinkene Fisher-Price Aquarium has saved their lives, so I'm thinking about buying one.

Oh, back to the mother's group. I bought a lot of cake for everyone but ended up eating most of it. I don't know these mothers; I met the husband of one of them at a CPR course, and asked him if his wife was doing a group. Someone had the suggestion of giving structure to the group by doing the following: everyone had to go around and say one good baby thing that had happened to them that week, one bad thing, and one unrelated baby thing. Everyone was so pleased that their babies had started smiling that week. Of course, this was almost my cue to jump in and talk about how advanced Julian is, how he's been smiling for months, until I remembered that he's actually twice as old as all these babies. And probably shorter, percentile speaking.

Stupid Parents

You'd think that babies only have teeny weeny brains, but sometimes it's the parents who are cerebrally-challenged. For instance, I am concerned about child-proofing, to the point where I've found out about such obscure items as VCR locks and cushions to put over your bath spout so that it's not hard. And still, when David brought home Thai takeaway last night, I attempted to eat it while breastfeeding Julian (and watching Survivor, so perhaps my concentration levels weren't at their best) and I promptly tipped the plate and dropped the knife (complete with fried rice) on Julian's foot. (He was fine.)

This morning, I awoke at 7:30 am and realised something was wrong. Julian usually wakes at 6 am. So I asked David to check on the baby. What I thought he would do is quietly creep into Julian's room, peer at him, see him breathing, and quickly exit. What he instead did was go into Julian's room, notice that he was lying down in a weird diagonal angle, and move him. So Julian woke, and it was all over for the morning. And yet still, I ask myself over and over again: How long would he have slept for otherwise? I might still be snoozing now.

Stupid parents.

It's not easy being a baby

Julian - 13 weeks 1 day

Today wasn't a great day. Julian was crying a lot, and in retrospect I think it was because he had a tummy ache, but at the time I wanted to say, "Hey, kid, lighten up. You've got no idea how good you've got it. Why are you screaming your head off when I put you down for a nap? Come thirty years on, you'll be begging to find some time for an afternoon snooze."

Today, David and I went to the Christmas party for the weekly pug playgroup we attend. There were in excess of 150 pugs there, all racing around being crazy. (And in fact, I was the *celebrity* judge, judging Fashions on the Field for the day.) I spoke to one girl who, in the course of the conversation, said, "I don't want babies - just pugs." For a long time, I thought that having a dog was as close as I'd get to having a baby, and since everyone told me that dog ownership was good preparation for motherhood, presumed the two were quite similar, too. How wrong I was. Having a dog is a big commitment, to be sure, but you can leave a dog at home while you head out for a few hours. Dogs sleep through the night. (Okay, ours doesn't, but I don't have to get up and rock/ feed her when she barks at night-time noises.) Dogs eat pet food, and it's easy to operate. Dogs only need a bath once a month. The list goes on.

I have to add a postscript: there is one good thing about a crying baby. It's being the person able to comfort them. There is nothing quite so humbling as holding a tearful baby as you pace the corridor, crooning a sweet lullaby. It's the only time in his life that your child will rely on you so thoroughly as the only source of comfort. Being able to offer that is just the most amazing thing, and when they stop crying...well, all that emotion makes you believe in a Higher Power, that's for sure.

To Work or Not to Work?

Three months old today!

So, when I was pregnant, I figured it would be an easy enough thing to go back to work in January. In my head, I calculated: He'll be four months old, I'll be dying to work again, my husband can pick up the slack (since my work is very part-time, and from home).

Who was I kidding? Even with work that I can do at home, and even with a husband on hand, there's no motivation there. I used to be a pretty ambitious career person, and now it's like I'm in that Diane Keaton movie, Baby Boom. I'm ready to give it all up.

It's a hard job, working without baby. My friends Josh and Christine will soon both be working, but they're worried about whether the nanny they've hired is part of a secret kidnapping ring. Away from home, you worry about a bazillion things, and you hate the thought of someone else doing all the things you want to be at home doing.

But, being a SAHM (Stay At Home Mum) is no picnic, either. You're around an infant all day long. (Or, in my case, with my husband at home, two infants.) What you do is so valuable and productive and incredibly challenging, but there are still a lot of people in society who sneer at your choice. You only have one income. And then your baby goes off to school, and you discover you've been out of the workforce for five years and it's killed your CV.

I've decided I'll go back to work a little at the end of January (writing a weekly fashion column) and then more fully in April (writing the fashion column and one half of the social column I used to write). I should be grateful - my job is willing to cater to my whims, and I will be working from home, but it's still a hard decision.

PS One thing I've discovered about babies: they're even cute when they cry!

What 12 Week turning point?

Julian - 12 weeks 5 days

Biggest challenge when you're nearly 3 months old: trying to get the dog outta my face!

For some reason, Julian woke up all night last night, every two hours. At first, I thought it was because I'd put him in a sleeping bag, but changing him into blankets made not a bit of difference.

So, now that Julian is well into his 12th week, I'm still waiting to see what changes have occurred. All the books tell you that babies can be difficult until 12 weeks, and then settle down miraculously after then. Well, I'm still waiting. Julian's not particularly difficult, but I did hold onto this 12 week marker as if something dramatic would happen. Perhaps he'd sleep more. Cry less. Start spitting out simple sentences. Who knows?

Speaking of which, I am currently investigating the trend of teaching your baby sign language. Apparently babies from 6 months onwards can be taught how to sign, thus enabling them to communicate with their parents long before they can talk. If anyone's used this method with success, I'd be interested in hearing from them!

Anyway, despite the fact that there's been no sudden change in Babyland of late, I am still really enjoying this time. This is a really nice age for Julian to be at - I can take him places, he enjoys himself, and still doesn't get into any trouble. Yesterday we had a quick lesson in child-proofing when my friend Roslyn came over with her son, Leo, 19 months. In a few minutes, he managed to switch on the oven several times, almost break the dog's food bowl, pick up a knife from the kitchen bench (who knew he could reach that far?) and nearly slam his wee fingers in several drawers.

A visit to the dentist

Julian - 12 weeks 4 days

Yesterday, I went to the dentist, for a crown prep. Now, there are better things to be doing with the first two and a half hours off you've had since having a baby, especially when your husband has meekly agreed to care and love said baby, but there I was, enduring the kind of painful drilling that took two injections of anaesthetic.

What was really painful, however, was a conversation that struck up between my dentist and his nurse, who somehow got onto the topic of c-sections. The dentist apparently knew a woman who was going to have an elective c-section because she claimed it was a more medically sound option for her baby, and would have less risk to her baby. Since I have a doctor who's very anti elective c-sections, I piped up to say that this notion was crap. Problem: I didn't know why it was crap. I did point out that a c-section is a big operation that is filled with potential complications, and knew that there's an increased risk of infection, but I wasn't sure what else to say. The nurse decided to back me up, but for all the wrong reasons, bringing religion into it. "If God had wanted us to have c-sections, He would have created us with a scalpel," she said, and that was her big argument. She kept talking about God as if she knew Him personally, and that just didn't help my case at all.

Next time, I think I'll go shopping.

The Dummy

There's no real reason why I've been against the dummy/ pacifier/ soother all along, even though I am. I'm not even sure why. Someone told me it was evil, long ago, and I believed them. Even though I've seen plenty of children grow up with dummies, with no ill-effect. And still, I waver.

I think part of it is that I want to believe that I don't need a dummy. That I can handle a bit of crying, that I'd rather soothe my child myself, that I don't want to create a good baby artificially. That having a dummy-less baby somehow proves I'm a better mother. (Untrue, I know.)

And yet, this week, I've had a crying baby. And had many friends who told me they solved the same problem by giving their child a dummy. With positive results. I am on the verge, but can't quite take the plunge. I have several dummies sitting in my pantry, still sealed and unsterilised, just in case I change my mind. But since Julian is already 12.5 weeks old, it seems like a shame to start now...

Why do I think it's a shame? Why have I been prepared to discard so many other views of people when it comes to babies, but can't quite shed this one?

Back to the drawing board...

Julian - 12 weeks 1 day

Well, the sleeping-through-the-night thing didn't last. Last night, we went to a neighbour's house for a barbeque. In my head, this was the closest way to replicate the overstimulation of Friday night, and guarantee another restful night. Not so. It was overstimulating all right - so much so that Julian spent the entire evening awake, right up until we arrived home at 11pm. And then awoke once during the night as well, before getting up at 6am.

Dinner, however - even with a small babe in tow - was excellent. I almost felt human. It would have been better if I had actually worn makeup/ clothes that looked nice/ high heels, but all those ornamental nicknacks seem like they're a thing of the childless past. We'll see.

Hooray!

We interrupt this broadcast to say...

HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT. HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT.

Yep. He went down at 9:15 pm. I went down at 11pm. AND WE BOTH WOKE UP AT 6:15 am!!!
I even managed to sleep for an hour when he went back down at 8am. And it's now lunchtime, and he's been asleep for two hours!

Of course, this could indicate some horrible sleeping disease like narcolepsy. But I doubt it.

HE SLEPT THROUGH THE NIGHT!

PS Special thanks go to my niece Rebecca and nephew Jake, who last night kept singing songs to Julian and making funny faces at him and generally overstimulating him way past his bedtime. I may have to bring them to my house to do this every night.

Julian's Voice

Julian - 12 weeks tomorrow!

Julian has found his voice, and it's amazing how an arbitrary selection of vowels strung together can be invested with so much meaning. I'm sure he's telling me things like, "Please stop making my nappy so tight" and "I really wish you wouldn't eat spicy thai food before I breastfeed."

Of course, he's a genius.

Got Milk?

Julian - 11 weeks 4 days

I've heard of penis envy, but I've got boob envy. It's not that I just hate the way mine look - that's a long story going way back - but now, it turns out, they're not as productive as I'd like, either. I've seen two friends in the past two days who both complain about having too much milk - the kind of milk that gushes out of their nipples at all hours of the day. One of them has to put a washcloth on the breast that she's not breastfeeding from during feeds, and soaks the entire thing. Occassionally, she'll put a bottle under that nipple and has collected 12 bottles that way in a matter of weeks. Errrghhh. Here I am, with the son who loves to eat - think Orson Welles going from one tapas bar to another in San Sebastian, which is where he apparently gained all his weight - and I don't have the kind of meal that really satisfies him.

Last night I got 6 and a half hours sleep. Every time I go to sleep, I check the clock, and every time I wake up, I count how many hours have passed. I don't know why it makes a difference, but I obsessively add up these hours together as the night progresses. It's a psychological thing, I think: once I've broken the 6 hour barrier, I feel okay. It's amazing how little sleep one can function on. The other night, I went to bed at 7pm, and woke up at 1am with 6 hours sleep under my belt. I felt so terrific, as if I was ready to start the day.