Clueless

I have come to the conclusion I am clueless as a mother. Until now, until this point in my journey, there has always been an obvious next step. She's hungry - feed her. She's tired - put her to sleep. She's wet - change her. She's teething - soothe her. I have always felt a calling on my life to sustain human life and give the person/people in my charge the best quality life I have to offer them. You could say I'm in the business of keeping people alive until they reach their appointed time to die, then helping them make the crossing over as peacefully as is in my power to do so. I have never in my life encountered a situation where I have felt helpless or without direction in this area of my expertise until this week.

Lilah will be 24 weeks old on the 8th of September. She's nearly 6 months old now, has nearly doubled her birth weight, has a tooth, is crawling, and has met all her milestones. I realize now that's what I was concerned with - assisting her to meet her milestones. There's nothing wrong with that, since she is a somewhat advanced, if not right on schedule, baby. This week, however, I came to the startling realization that what was once a small bundle of raw emotion was now a cognitive person. Lilah's first developmental task according to Erikson (the psychologist I most closely adhere to) is Trust vs. Mistrust.

"first stage which corresponds to Freud's oral stage centers around the infant's basic needs being met by the parents. The infant depends on the parents, especially the mother, for food, sustenance, and comfort. The child's relative understanding of world and society come from the parents and their interaction with the child. If the parents expose the child to warmth, regularity, and dependable affection, the infant's view of the world will be one of trust. Should the parents fail to provide a secure environment and to meet the child's basic need a sense of mistrust will result."

That was hugely important to me. For at least the first 6 months of her life, if was my entire job as a mother in a nutshell to provide that safety and security that would not only shape my relationship with my daughter in the future, but also dictate how she would view the whole world her entire life! This week, I realized she had mastered that. She knew when her parents or grandparents had her, she was safe, and therefore happy and willing to explore the world around her. With that exploration has come a new challenge that I feel I am unprepared for as a mother - autonomy.

Lilah has a routine that we stick pretty closely to. She goes to bed, eats, naps, and plays at specific times of the day. This happened naturally, and she's thrived on routine and habit. Now, she's started exerting her will more and more each day. I put her in her swing to take her nap as usual, and she looks straight at me and whines (not cries, just whines) until she gets picked up. Sometimes she even manages a tear or two. It never occurred to me it was a behavior issue until I watched her smile even as I was reaching for her. Now, I know you can't spoil a baby with love, cuddles, or security. If she was in need of reassurance and needed a snuggle from Mama, that's perfectly all right and what I'm here for. But after cuddling her and putting her back in her swing, the whining picks up again. It only stopped when I A) Let her lie on the couch next to me and hold my leg for her nap or B) Put her upstairs in her crib. If I kept her on the couch, she slept poorly and mostly played. If I put her in her crib, she understood it was nap time and went down with barely another noise. It's easier for me to keep her on the couch so I can pay bills, fold laundry, or do whatever else needs to be done. It's better for her if I take the time to put her up in her crib and tuck her in.

Situations just like that have popped up more and more. She knows what she needs (sleep, playtime, food, etc.) and she knows how her routine dictates the need will be met (part of the trust she's mastered already). But she's pushing the limits. I can see it in her eyes, too. She'll look straight at me and whine for a variation, something - from her purely emotional point of view - more desirable. She doesn't do it when Dano is alone with her. He was home one morning and watched her do it and watched me give in to her. "Why do you give in? Why don't you put her in her crib?" "It's easier..." I was horrified to hear myself say. I have since stopped doing it and putting her in her crib to nap. She's too young to be "naughty", or to push limits to get on her parents' nerves. She's just learning cause and effect. "If I push the belly of my musical seahorse, he sings and lights up!" In the same way, she's learning, "If I make these awful noises at Mama, she picks me up and I don't have to put myself to sleep in my crib!" This is just the next stage in her ongoing exploration of the world around her. It's just a stage I'm not entirely ready for, and one in which I highly doubt my own abilities.

Slow down already!

Today I was looking over pictures of Lilah's first month of being alive and wondering, "Who was that alien little creature we brought home?" She was tiny and helpless, and never made a peep. Somehow, that baby went away, and was replaced by a big girl who sits up, crawls and rolls around, and talks to us every day. She attracts people to her like moths to a flame.
"How old is she?"
"Isn't she a doll!"
"Is she a good baby?"
"Does she sleep through the night?"
"What's her name?"
Those are the usual ones I get. She'll never remember how many times I answer them every time I take her out. All she knows now is that humanity, it would seem, was created to pay homage to this tiny being. It's absurd, the amount of fawning and adoration she's subjected to, and she just soaks it all up. If every person on earth were a separate planet, they've spent the past 5 months revolving around a tiny, baby-shaped Sun.

Where did the summer go?

I've been telling myself to blog for a week now, before I get so behind I forget something. Every time I sit down to do it, I think to myself, "I could spend time on the computer, or play with Lilah" and I always end up playing with Lilah. She's sleeping now, so it seems like the opportune time to do it.

She's eating cereal before bed nearly every night now, because she was waking up famished in the middle of the night. She sleeps in her crib every night, as well. Mostly it works out well. She always wakes up around 7 and realizes there are toys within reach, so one of us has to drag our lazy butts out of bed and retrieve her. Whenever it's my turn, I find a grinning baby with chubby arms wrapped around one of her favorite stuffed animals in place of the peaceful, sleeping baby I had left in the crib 8 hours earlier.

She loves to experiment with her voice. She always seems surprised at what weird and bizarre noises she can make come out of her own mouth. Her first sounds were just squawks, which evolved into "conversations" with us. Then she learned she could screech like a hawk, and liked to wake us up that way. Then she taught herself to whisper. She sounded possessed. She would roll over to me and nurse in the morning after we got her from her crib, then roll over to Dano and proceed to grab his beard, smack his cheeks, or just grab both sides of his head and whisper menacingly until he woke up. Now she's moved on to the deeper range of her vocal cords. She sounds exactly like a mourning dove when she makes those sounds. Larry swears she said "Mama" when she was upset the other day. I think 5 months is still a little young for that.

She's crawling! It blows my mind to think about. A week ago, we could put her down on the floor and she'd have so much fun rolling around and playing with her toys. She'd occasionally give a half-hearted effort to scoot a few inches, but didn't seem too interested. About 3 days ago, she discovered that if she got her knees under her and her butt in the air, she could go about a foot if she pulled herself along with her arms outstretched in front of her. It was cute to watch her try. I guess I didn't realize she was getting better and better at it until last night. We were at Ann's and Larry's house, and Lilah was on a sheet on the floor (she likes to put fistfuls of dog hair in her mouth) and every time I looked up, she was off the sheet and headed somewhere else. We laughed at her the first few times, but then it became very clear: Lilah Rose Marie Alexander could crawl, and was very good at it. God help us all.

Where did July go?

I felt like I barely sat down one time last month. One day, we're hanging out with Max on July 4th eating Veggie Burgers, and the next day, I'm doing documentation at work and saying aloud, "Is it really 8-1? Are we sure?"

So much happened last month. We were busy every single weekend and many times throughout the week. We celebrated Lilah's first Independence Day with brownies and strawberry daiquiris. Even Max got a virgin one. We went to Pioneer Day fireworks and had a great weekend hanging out with Dano's high school best bud Brent (whew! That's a lot of B's!). We went hiking and had a cookout with Dano's cousin Sam and her little girl, Ada. Lilah loved her second cousin and they giggled together all evening. We picked my friend Bronson up from the airport and went to L'attitude for martinis and snacks. He spent the night, then we drove to Gay, MI to spend a day with his family there. While in Gay, we explored the ruins of an old iron ore mill, watched his kids play Wii, and had an awesome campfire on the beach. That same weekend was Hiawatha weekend, a traditional music festival. We ran into Mike Waite on a bus, where he held Lilah and had a few minutes of folk-bonding. She camped for the first time and did wonderfully. The weather went from 40s at night to 75 during the day. Lilah got the full hippie experience complete with songs around a campfire and her very first tie-dye dress! Thanks Grandpaman! She loved it. She got to play with her good friend Talula Ravani, and they both wore their tie-dye and played in a hammock. She got to see her cousins, Zedd and Ephraim, and met her second cousin Kelsey and her Uncle Chris and Aunt Karen for the very first time! The last weekend in July, we stayed with Max for the weekend again so Ann and Larry could camp and bike. It was mostly rainy, but we all went shopping and had a laid-back, good time.

What's Lilah been doing during all of this? She's been growing, mostly. She started boycotting bottles when I went back to work, so now and again she gets rice cereal, which she loves and devours. She now weighs 14 pounds even, and she's 24 1/2 inches long. She's more than met her milestones. She has the cutest belly laugh at inappropriate moments (like when Mama is talking to Daddy about "old people sex" at work), a smile that darn-near takes up her whole face, she can sit up nearly unassisted, and she rolls like a boss. She never stays where you put her anymore. She always ends up 5 feet away. She's also attempting to scoot across the floor by pushing with her toes. I have a feeling she'll be a mover early, this one. The doctor definitely thinks it's possible she's got a tooth trying to pop through, since she's a drooly mess and eats everything. She sucks on her fists until she gags. We were outside playing today and exploring nature, and she ate a flower. One minute she was looking thoughtfully at it, and the next minute it was gone. I nearly dropped her and started to search for the number to Poison Control when she made a face and spit it out again. I told her not to do that again and she grinned. She's very vocal and has a lot to say about the world around her. She'll go to anyone who wants her, and she's an absolute darling 90% of the time. That other 10%, well, it makes you very thankful for the 90%.

Memories

For some reason, I've been having flashbacks from being pregnant lately. Maybe it's just talking a good friend through her first and second trimester that's doing it. I remember all too well being afraid that every sneeze, every indulgence in Chinese food, every day I went without the money for insurance would kill the little thing inside me. I don't miss being pregnant, per se. Every day is a new adventure. I just realize (especially in my line of work with Alzheimers) how unfaithful memories can be. They might not be as vivid later on as they are today. I decided to jot down a few of them now. Maybe I've been reading too much L'Engle lately, where every little memory might be important later on in saving the world. However, since this is for me, and perhaps someday for Lilah, the "why" doesn't really matter.

Memory #1
I was still in school, and we were doing our geriatrics rotation in clinicals. No one knew I was pregnant, and I was still very sick. I was in the room of an unresponsive, comatose patient, and Tabitha, Jill, and I were washing him up and changing his linens. Tabitha had told me a few days earlier she was pregnant. Jill had told me a few minutes earlier she was pregnant. I felt like it might be a good idea to let them know, since we could help each other out and cover for me, since the instructors didn't and couldn't know. Policy dictated that we present a physician's note clearing us for clinical work in order to graduate. That was problematic, since Jill and I couldn't afford insurance but made too much for state aid, and Tabitha was a high-risk pregnancy and no sane doctor would ever clear her. My hands were sweaty, which was inconvenient, since I was holding a naked man steady on his side so the other girls could wash his back. He nearly slipped out of my grasp. I was shaking when I told them I was the rumored "Fourth". Gossip in school had whispered there were 4 pregnant girls in a class of 16. The instructors were going student to student trying to get them to rat out the ones the instructors didn't know about. Nikki was the third, but there were no problems with her pregnancy and she had insurance, so hers wasn't a secret. Both of them were so excited and swore secrecy. The rest of the class knew before the week was out.

Memory #2
It was my first day of my mental health rotation at the state mental facility. I was throwing up constantly, and more than a little resentful of this tiny cluster of cells causing my constant discomfort. We were told to be careful, that the patients there weren't as innocent and harmless as they might seem at first. They were all there for a reason. My group was walking through the hallways, very bored. No one wanted to talk to us. The only thing they seemed interested in was whether or not we had cigarettes. Out of nowhere, my boredom ended as I felt a strong, wiry arm reach around my neck and tighten. I'd heard of fight or flight mode, even studied it, but never experienced it. I dug my fingers into the arm and twisted out of its grasp. I put plenty of distance between me and it before looking to see its owner. I identified him and told my instructor, who removed us from the area and alerted the staff. Later, when I could think again, I wondered at how my brain had immediately responded, and my only thoughts had been for the safety of my growing baby - the baby I hadn't planned, and didn't even want at first. I think that was the first time I really loved her. I didn't know who she was, or even if she was a boy or a girl baby at this point. All that mattered was that she was my baby, and it was my job as her mother to protect her from everything harmful. That included mental patients with half their brain removed trying to choke her mother.

I'll record more as they come to me.

Leaps and Bounds

Little Lilah isn't so little anymore. She weighs nearly 14 pounds now. She has two tiny little teeth that keep trying to break through the gums. They're hanging out just below the surface, making her miserable. I'm doing everything I can to keep her comfortable and happy. She's also started waking up in the middle of the night to eat, after sleeping straight through for a month. She's going through a growth spurt, and I think she's ready to try a little cereal soon.

I've been working my regular 2 days a week and working as a mother and wife 7. I've been doing my best to keep it all afloat, but some days are harder than others. Some days I feel like there isn't enough of me to go around, not by half. I can't imagine how full-time workers or single mothers do it.

I've been too busy to do anything but what is absolutely required. It took me a week to finish two new books. That's absurd for me. I want things to slow down a little. Being able take a breath without someone calling my name, crying, or needing something would be a refreshing change of pace. Hats off to all those who have survived more than one child.

A major accomplishment

As many of you know, I'm not a big fan of lacy white bassinets (or anything lacy, for that matter). A month or so before she was born, Kim had made Lilah a beautiful Moses basket to sleep in. It was lined with green fleece and a cute brown embroidered owl. It had a removable brown pad about an inch or so thick to sleep on. I was thrilled I could take it out and wash it if the situation arose (and no doubt, it would). To cover her up, it had a matching green fleece blanket with another charming little owl. I couldn't wait to bring my baby home, plop her in it, and go to bed for two hours before having to get up and feed her.

When we finally brought her home, we were a little unsure of what to do. The hospital had been straightforward enough. From birth, she had boycotted the strange plastic bin they toss the babies in. I could sympathize not wanting to feel like you're in an aquarium, so I had her in bed with me the whole time and she slept like a rock (a strange expression, since rocks are inanimate and don't sleep or do anything else, for that matter). I wasn't allowed to sleep with her in bed, in case I rolled over and squashed her. I thought that was ridiculous. I was acutely aware of every sigh, breath, and squeak that came from the foreign little bundle in my arms. Every nurse and aid that came in the room stressed the same points over and over - "Don't sleep with your baby. You'll kill it", "Put your baby in a basket or cradle or you'll kill it", "Put your baby to sleep on its back or you'll kill it". I was beginning to think babies were very susceptible to the elements and likely to drop dead at any point. So when we brought her home, I dutifully put her in her basket next to the bed and laid down to sleep. My head hadn't even hit the pillow when she started to cry. "No no, they sleep for two hours, *then* they wake up to cry, " I thought. "That's what new babies do. All the books say so." I picked her up to lull her back to sleep. This consisted of me rocking her and shushing her softly while she stared at me happily with very awake-looking eyes. I was beginning to get horrified. "What if I have one of those defective ones that confuse day with night, like all my Alzheimer's residents?" I recalled many a night at the nurse's station being asked by one angry man with a walker, "WHERE are my car keys!?" every 5 minutes for hours on end (this is how my brain was functioning after 40 hours of no sleep). I tucked her safely and securely in her basket again. I hadn't even turned around before she started wailing again. Dano and I looked at each other with dread. "What do we do?" he asked. "How the hell should I know? I've never done this before!" I thought. "I'm not sure," I told him. "She slept just fine in the hospital." Then it dawned on me. She slept with me in the hospital. I decided to just let her fall asleep in my arms, then transplant her into her basket. We all snuggled down into the bed, and Dano drifted swiftly off to sleep. "Jerk," I thought. I watched Lilah's eyes get droopier by the second. "Only a few more minutes until I can finally sleep."

We all woke up at 4:00 AM when she woke up to eat (after going to bed at 11:00). I was relieved and a little surprised to find my newborn daughter still alive. I fed her and tucked her next to me again, wondering at the fact she hadn't woken up screaming for food every two hours. "Maybe she's broken." She didn't wake up again until the next morning at 9:00. In finding that I could get zero sleep and let her scream in her basket all night, or let her sleep between us in my arms and get nearly a full night's sleep, I chose the irresponsible, selfish option. "Don't do that!" People would tell me often. "She'll be 5 and still in bed with you!" If having a 5 year old in bed with me meant 10 hours of nearly uninterrupted sleep, that was fine with me. "Your husband will resent you. You'll never be able to have sex again!" Again, see above.

When she was 8 weeks old, she let us put her down without bursting into pitiful, lonely cries for the first time in her short life. We decided to try the basket again. She slept in it half the night, then wanted to be in the bed after her middle of the night (and only) feeding. Over the past month since then, she's stayed in her basket a little longer each night. Two nights ago, I woke up feeling rested and refreshed, and heard birds singing in the sunshine out the window. I leaned down to give Lilah her morning kiss and greeting - "Good morning, beautiful baby!" - to find that she wasn't there. I flung aside the blankets to see if she'd weaseled her way somewhere else. No Lilah. I was frantic. I leaned over the side of the bed to see if she'd fallen off and died during the night. Instead, I saw her supine, limp little body in her basket. "She's dead. She died of SIDS during the night," was where my brain immediately went. I snatched her up and held my poor baby close to my chest. She her eyes snapped open confusedly and she scowled at me. She had been sleeping? She slept in her basket all night? That seemed much more unlikely to me than her dying in her sleep.

I asked Ann later if I was ridiculous for being so worried, for immediately jumping to Lilah being injured or dead, rather than happily sleeping in her basket (which was a goal we'd been working toward for 13 weeks). She said it was very natural, and she had continued checking to make sure her children were breathing well into their teens. After I got over the initial shock, I celebrated. Not only did my baby sleep through the night from birth (as long as she was being held), she was doing it alone in her basket at 3 months! Then I thought the same thing I always do when I realize what an exceptionally good baby we've been blessed with - "Our next baby will be Devil's spawn..."