Sleep

Paige is two days from 10 months. In these last 10 months, she's slept through the night only a handful of times. Flukes, I say.

In my life, I've always written to help me understand, to flesh out my feelings on any given topic, from guacamole to my relationships. (At least, I've orally examined my evolved feelings about guacamole.) Now, here I am, 10 months into motherhood, and I've written very, very little. I've also understood very, very little, but I've recorded most of that confusion in the Notes app on my iPhone in a note simply titled "Baby Timeline." When will that note become more evolved? I don't know, but it's been my handy journal to mark the milestones. And those questions I've had can be traced in my google searches. Most of the time, I'd read enough that I'd settle on an answer and not need to find my own place in it.

But sleep. That's a different story.

Paige cries if I even hint at putting her in her crib for a nap or bedtime. She wants to be nursed to sleep each time. If she wakes, she stands--now that she can. And this week when she wakes in the night, she wants to nurse and she wants to sit. She wants to be awake. She wants to be held. She wants to be with me.

But I need sleep. And Paige needs sustained sleep. So I read. I read about crying it out, about fading out, about no tears methods, about sleeping through the night as a developmental milestone like walking that can't be rushed, about the fact that babies can't form bad habits and about the fact that if babies don't learn good sleep habits they will be affected for life. Our pediatrician said to try fading it out, where you put her down and let her cry but go in every few minutes (in increasing duration) to pat her back and eventually she'll go to sleep and won't need you. We tried for three nights and made no progress.

Every answer is right, and every answer is wrong. Do we know too much science? Do we have too many theories? What is the ancient wisdom, I want to know. I want to know what a mother instinctually knew before she was told what science knows. Before the internet, what did a sleep-deprived mother do? In the middle of the prairie, how did a native mother soothe her child so as not to draw the attention of predators?

A quick google search says that preventing crying in the first place is the goal (and ancient wisdom).

Here's more wisdom: Feng Shui (and many other holistic traditions) tell that diffusing a balanced blend of six drops each of pure lavender and pure chamomile essential oils into the nursery at night will provide not only a pleasing scent but will calm and quiet baby too. Of course that same blend can be added to a quarter cup of olive oil and massaged on the bottom of baby’s feet to get that same serenity producing support. The trick here is to massage from sole to toes in flat, firm strokes. This will appease the autonomic nervous system and will pacify a persnickety little one. 

Layers

When I painted our dining room two years ago, I didn't know there was a tear in the wall until I took down the curtains and exposed the area beneath the windows. I kept going, though, and painted through it, around it, knowing that we'd address it someday. That someday was last week, when Phillip tried to superglue the paper down and instead the paper fanned out and cracked some more. It's tearing and fanning because it's eight layers thick: decades of floral and horse and who knows what else that no one has bothered to mess with since 1933. Not even me. 

I love this house. I love those eight layers of wallpaper. But all I'm doing and all anyone has done so far in this house has cover up, make pretty, what actually needs redone. The house needs someone who's going to be here a while, who will reconfigure the kitchen, who will scrape the white back to wood, who will finish the basement. 

We were going to be here a while longer until a few months ago when Phillip said the house was feeling too small. It's ideal for one, lovely for two, crowded for three, and over-crowded for four, based on how we use the house. It's small, which means sound travels very well. Which means Phillip can hear most things when he's sleeping during the day, even downstairs. And we want Jack to have his own room, to not feel like a guest when he's here. I want two bathrooms. I also want a front porch and a second story and a dishwasher and four bedrooms and an attached garage. But this is where I get nervous because bigger isn't always better and dream houses aren't always tomorrow houses and we're three/sometimes four but the bulk of our clutter right now is bulky baby equipment and we seem to be rushing now because our realtor told us she wants to put it on the market by May. 

There's a house in Countryside we're interested in. It's a ranch with no front porch, no second story, no fourth bedroom, and not much character. But it's walkable, spacious, updatable, quiet. With appropriate bathrooms, covered patio, sleeping basement, fenced yard. It's not at all what I pictured for our next house, but it's practical. And the next house doesn't have to be the dream house. Or it could become the dream house if I adjust my dream to practicality. 

We could put an offer on the Countryside house. We could finish up our house. We could move in the next few months. Or we could keep working, keep looking, ease the stress. 

Does the stress increase by nature in a house that feels too small? Does the stress increase by nature when you buy a house worth more than double your current home? Does the stress increase by nature when you have a five month old and sometimes a five year old and you and your husband are working full time on different shifts and you're trying to connect and trying to grow and trying to be everything to everyone and feeling like you're failing? 

Wherever we go next, I want to take the time to do it right. If there's wallpaper, I'll strip it. The kitchen, I'll reconfigure it. The floor, I'll restore it. Our next home will be where our kids grow up. It will be a place that Phillip and I choose together for the first time, where we say this is ours together. It feels--it is--big and confusing and exciting. 

My perfectionism isn't helping, but I hope the next owner appreciates that my paintbrush has touched nearly ever inch of this house, that I'm putting it back out into the world with as much love and pride as I have to give. It will shine. 

P.S. So much this: "A Letter to my Husband: The First Year of Parenting" 

Our cottage this Easter morning.

One half of our adorable living room (I'm taking photos as I get done)

Five months in

Paige has discovered Scooter, the large living, breathing being in our home that doesn't look like her mom or dad. She studies him, she grabs for his nose, and, tonight, she squealed at the sight of him catching popcorn Phillip tossed to him.

She's starting to laugh, straining to sit up, bringing her toes oh so close to her mouth. She is such a happy baby. My joy.

As she grows, we're outgrowing our sweet cottage. We love this house, its charm and its surprise, but it's not functional now for how we use it, with Aunt Darla here during the day with Paige, with Jack part-time sharing her room, with Phillip spending his second and third shift weeks downstairs. So we're painting and touching up. We fenced in the backyard, and we're renovating the bathroom. The house is going to be just the way we want it right as we're leaving it.

But we're looking for our next heart's home that we can make our own.

Decisions

When the baby naps, you must decide from among the following in the 15-45 minutes you may have to do any of the following:

• Take a shower. This is optional on days off. The world will have to forgive a disheveled first-time-mom. 
• Eat. With two hands, your options multiply. But what is on hand, sounds good, cooks in under 5 minutes, and can be eaten in 10? I'd feel more productive if I ...
• Do chores, like laundry, dishes, vacuuming. Doing chores makes you feel like you're accomplishing something, so this is an attractive option. 
• Leave the house. This you must plan before the nap begins--can you predict if she will be asleep or at least content in the car seat for the duration of the outing? 
• Work. Whether it's work-work or volunteer work, this option takes a calm, steady mind that is often difficult to achieve in such a short window. You will most likely save this for later, after she's down for the night, but by then you're too exhausted to have a calm, steady mind and will mostly likely opt for sleep.
• Watch Gilmore Girls. Sure, you watch this when you're nursing, but do you take the time to relax and watch without the little one in you're lap? You're in the final season, and you're annoyed with the plot and some of the characters (never Rory), so you just want to get it over with already. 
• Bake. Stress baking feels good. Sugar tastes good. 
• Write. This, again, takes a calm, steady mind. Or maybe it doesn't, and you should just write when you're over-tired because your filter may be off and you need to authentically capture your first days as a mother. Your sub-options are to get somewhat creative and write a blog post that your mother will read or write in your journal with all of your unfiltered feelings. Because you feel pressure and accountability from others and never yourself, you will most likely choose to blog. 
• Read. On your phone or iPad maybe, but a print book feels too luxurious right now. Almost as luxurious as a ...
• Nap. Ha ha. Just kidding. This is not a real option. It has never happened.

8 weeks

Our girl is growing, faster than I can grasp. The change is so gradual you don't notice as it's happening, but I think back to a week, two weeks, ago, and I am in awe of how far she's come.

She smiles a lot. A LOT. She just beams up at you, her mouth open wide and her eyes squinty (like me) so that the smile is her whole face. And she's so close to laughing--you can tell she's trying.

She's strong and has been since birth. She's stronger than I knew a baby could be. Sometimes she fights me when she's nursing, rears back and throws her hands at me (I don't know if it's aggression out of excitement or frustration).

One of my favorite things is her dramatic stretching, particularly on her changing pad after a nap. She  stretches out those legs, stiffens them, grunt-squeaks, kicks, and does it again.

She's just the best. The best there is. How was I me without her?

I finally started feeling like a me again, like I had a semblance of control and understanding of this new way of life, around six weeks. Now I'm back at work for the first full week on Monday and hoping that I can pull of a fully-there work me and a fully-there home me and feel like I'm whole. There's a lot to manage from all angles, and I'm having trouble making space for to-do's. I'm relying heavily on lists and reminders and still leaving out chunks of life (like communication with friends and family). I am struggling to stay un-anxious when Phillip is on second and third shifts, particularly when he's here but asleep or here but not here. I am struggling to give Scooter the attention he deserves and is used to when I have new demands and priorities. But I am loving motherhood, even if it's going to take months to get used to saying I'm a mother, to not feel silly saying Mama when I talk to my daughter, to saying This is my daughter.

I have a daughter. All I want to do is build her up, give her every early opportunity to learn and grow through play and song and stories and art. I'm going to show her the good of the world but also how she can make it better. She will know her voice and how to use it. And I can't wait to hear what she has to say.

Paige Eleanor

Eighteen days ago, Paige Eleanor Mailloux came into our world. It wasn't easy, it wasn't quick, and it wasn't what we had envisioned, but our girl came out beautiful, healthy, and glowing.

When the terrified of labor phase hit around eight months, I was convinced that because my pregnancy had been so easy that the labor would be hard. The doctor said that was highly unlikely. But my blood pressure was high going into week 40, baby was estimated at eight pounds, and my body was not dilating or softening for labor. The result was this--in abbreviated form because I'm processing it and will be for some time: 48 hours of induction with no progress resulting in a c-section and our "It's a girl!" moment at 2:15pm on Friday, October 16 when Paige was born.

But the other thing was that on the morning we went to the hospital to induce Phillip found out he had Shingles. And because he had Shingles that could be transmitted to immune-suppressed people at the hospital and, namely, babies, the head of infectious diseases said he couldn't be at the hospital. And because he couldn't be at the hospital he couldn't be present for his baby's birth. And because he couldn't be present for his baby's birth his mom took his place with me and Facetimed him in the operating room, trying to keep him involved since he was at home a mile away but so far, far from where we were. It wasn't until Sunday when the medicine had dried up his lesions that he got the okay to come to the hospital and be with us, his girls. Again, it's still too fresh for me to tell the whole story, to tell you how it felt to watch my husband leave my hospital room when I was lost in my first childbirth experience and process the fact that family would see and hold our daughter before he would.

In the end, we came home on a Monday after five days in the hospital. We came home together. We cried through challenges with breastfeeding and sleeping in the night and pain at standing upright, and here we are at day eighteen with a little girl who's growing measurably by the day and revealing her strong and sweet personality and making us love her with all that we are. We are incredibly blessed and excited to watch her grow.

In days

Happy due date, Baby M!

I'm a day--no more than four--away from baby. I'm tuning in for signs of labor. I'm whispering don't you want to come out to my belly amid the bumps and rolls.

The last few weeks have gotten harder. Carpal tunnel in my right hand, with tingly, numb fingertips. Swollen ankles and calves to where only tall boots fit, and now even they are tight to zip. Heartburn in the evening that wakes me up from the sudden rise in acid. Higher blood pressure at one appointment that led to a 24-hour urine collection testing for pre-eclampsia (none). A belly so big and hard that last night Phillip had to help me take off my shoes and pants. No dilation, no change, to the point where Dr. "aggravated" my cervix Wednesday to try and spark something. Exhaustion but sleep that I wake from every 2 or so hours--practicing sleep deprivation, yes. Am I complaining? A bit.

But because of the check for pre-eclampsia and the lack of progress, we had a 39-week sonogram that we weren't expecting to make sure everything was okay. And it was. And I got to see my baby's chubby cheeks--and hair!--in the womb, making me all the more anxious to kiss them in person. Phillip keeps looking at the picture and saying I can't believe how cute our baby is! And it's true, and come on we want to meet you, sweet Baby M.

39 week sonogram

I am now officially on maternity leave after finishing and preparing everything I could on Friday. Though I'm using these first two days to rest, I don't want to waste too many days of leave without the baby. December 7 will come too soon, I know.

Last minutes at work before maternity leave.

My mind right now is calm with the knowledge that all I can do is wait, but a piece of me is anxious in the limbo and startled at the fact that I will undergo an entirely new and life-altering experience within the week. I'm ready for this. I'm ready for you, little one.

On purpose

"The life I live now is not a dress rehearsal for something greater afterwards; it empowers me to focus on the here and now. That is how I find meaning and purpose in what might seem a meaningless and purposeless existence; by concentrating on what I can do, and the differences I can make in the lives of those around me, in the short time that we have." - Dr. Buddhini Samarasinghe, molecular biologist

"We invent comforting lies to distract us from one simple truth: Oblivion looms. So, what are you going to do about it? I choose to live, laugh, love, travel, create, help others, and learn. And I'm going to do as much of this as I can manage, because the clock is ticking. We create our own meaning, and there's more than enough to be had. Seize it where you can." - Stephen Knight

"Because there is no 'right' answer to life, there are far fewer wrong answers--if you're doing something you love, and you aren't harming other people, you're basically on the right track. I find compassion in atheism: It makes me want to help people, because the idea that I stood by and watched someone's one shot at life go badly in a way I could have prevented makes me enormously sad. It's also why I reject the idea that atheism leads to a selfish mentality; it leads me to the feeling that we all have the same vanishingly short time to enjoy, so it's incumbent on us all to try to make society work for everyone." - Michael Marshall

"Our efforts must aim at restoring hope, righting wrongs, maintaining commitments, and thus promoting the well-being of individuals and of peoples. We must move forward together, as one, in a renewed spirit of fraternity and solidarity, cooperating generously for the common good. ... 

Politics is, instead, an expression of our compelling need to live as one, in order to build as one the greatest common good: that of a community which sacrifices particular interests in order to share, in justice and peace, its goods, its interests, its social life. ... 

Let us treat others with the same passion and compassion with which we want to be treated. Let us seek for others the same possibilities which we seek for ourselves. Let us help others to grow, as we would like to be helped ourselves. In a word, if we want security, let us give security; if we want life, let us give life; if we want opportunities, let us provide opportunities. The yardstick we use for others will be the yardstick which time will use for us." - Pope Francis, today in his address to Congress

21

21 thoughts or memories for the 21 days until our due date

1. It could happen anytime now. I've known of three babies born in the last month: one a few days late, one three weeks early, one on the due date. Any one of those could be our case.

2. Balance. How do I balance trying to get everything done for work ahead of maternity leave while also allowing myself to cave to exhaustion and rest? How do I be responsible to everyone and myself? How do I both focus and release?

3. The doctor told me to get compression socks after seeing my swollen ankles and feet on Wednesday. I spent $20 for one pair, wore them two days and only noticed a slight difference. But that's all I got because Scooter ate the foot of one of them, the only thing I recall him destroying since we've been in Kansas. Is he anxious, too? Does he think his licks should be enough?

4. What's bothering me most right now is my tingly right hand, the carpal tunnel that makes it hard to grip and aches my joints.

5. Last night after reading stories with Jack, we had our usual "talk." It's the final wind-down, lights out, between stories and the closing of the door for the night. He gets to choose; it's his time to tell us whatever is on his mind (zombies, tornadoes, Bloodborne).

"What do you want to talk about?" I asked him.

"Daddy," he said. Phillip was at work. "I love him. He's my best friend. I love Daddy's games. And you're my best friend."

"Oh, buddy, you're our best friend, too. We love you, and we're always here for you."

"You have a baby in your tummy or you not have baby in your tummy?"

"I do, for three more weeks. And then you get to hold your baby brother or sister."

"Can I hear it?" It's been a while since he's wanted to listen to my belly, so when I lifted my shirt his eyes got big and he sat up straight. "Woah! I've never seen a belly that big. I've never seen that." He said this about a dozen times. "You should show Daddy."

"Oh, he's seen it."

6. I currently weight 167.6 pounds. I am still five feet tall.

7. I can't decide what to hang above the crib or in what order to hang it. It's the last detail in there, and I can't figure it out.

8. I completely stand behind our decision to not find out the baby's gender. But, damn, the gender neutral options are abysmal, particularly in any of our local stores. At least there are white onesies.

9. I'm anxious for the fact that my alone time, my freedom, my spontaneity is about to end. I still need it--stretches of time that are just mine--from Phillip (hello, seven years of living alone and introversion), and now all of that alone time will be with an infant. It's daunting. But maybe it's also the kind of alone time I'm ready for. We'll find out.

10. I went to Health-e-quip on Friday to turn in my prescription for a breast pump (yay, insurance!). The woman asked, "Is this the result of an injury or accident?" She laughed and said she has to ask that every time. "No, this was planned."

11. After spending yesterday morning listening to my Baby M playlist of 100 of my favorite songs, I'm now sure I want music in the delivery room. That music. My music.

12. Jack, for the last month, likes to point to older pictures of me around the house and say, "You not have a baby in your tummy." In the photo with all of our siblings from our wedding day, he goes down the line of (mostly) men and women: "Her not have a baby. Her not have a baby. Her not have a baby...." (We're working on the pronoun confusion.)

13. I haven't done enough yoga or other exercises. I hope I'm strong enough and remember how to breathe.

14. Thing most eaten this pregnancy? Cereal. Rice Krispies, Cracklin Oat Bran, Oatmeal Squares.

15. Phillip finally admitted this week that he's anxious about the birth. He's anxious that he'll be at work when I go into labor and he won't hear the phone. He's anxious that I won't get an epidural and I won't be calm during the birth and he won't know what to say or do with his hands. I told him it's highly unlikely that BAM I'll be in labor and need to go to the hospital, that I'll know I'm starting labor but we'll have some lead time before we have to go to the hospital. And the truth is, and what I've been trying to reassure him, that neither of us know how it will go and that we have to be willing to figure it out as we go, together. I know enough about myself that I'm not going to be yelling at him during birth, that I'll want him with me at all times. What I don't know is if I'll want to hold his hand or if I'll need him to give me positive affirmations in the midst of the pain. But, for me, just knowing he'll be there is comforting enough for me not to be worrying about it.

16. The baby's heartbeat has pretty consistently been 135 for the last few months.

17. My dreams lately, though I don't remember many of them, have been dealing with strange or unwanted guests.

18. Normally I bite my fingernails on Monday mornings at work, unconsciously. But it's Sunday night and they're gone by #18 of this blog post. Back to that balance point, maybe?

19. We have everything we need if the baby should come tomorrow, and the few things we don't are being delivered this week. Like diapers (biodegradable), a nursing bra, a Miracle Blanket, and more Ikea Skubb drawer organizers.

20. It's been three months since Snickers died. I can't help but think she would have been snuggling on my belly to feel and share the warmth. She would have broken in the rocker. She would have curled up with us on the couch.

21. When I was 21, I was with a man who never wanted to get married and who never wanted children. I was young and naive enough to think I would change his mind. I'm so glad I didn't. I'm so grateful that more than three years ago I reconnected with a man I became good friends with at 18, that he inspired me to move back home, that we got married, that I've shared the experience of part-time raising his son since he was 2 1/2, that we agreed we would start a family in 2015, and that, in a few weeks, we will do just that. Phillip is my greatest blessing, my best friend, and I can't wait to meet this little one who is half him and half me and, all together, grow in love and life.

Puff

I am inflated: fingers, feet, face.

I hope it is mostly water and that, once baby is here, I will shrink back up to some semblance of my known self. That most of this weight will flush out on its own. That my feet will once again fit into my shoes.

Meanwhile, baby is dropping. I can tell because I can take bigger breaths than a week ago and my belly rests on my thighs when I sit.

Meanwhile, baby gear and big empty boxes fill the kitchen. Where will we put it all? Where will it live?

Meanwhile, baby is thirty days away.

Perspective: 35 weeks

Perspective: Four

All photos by Jack, age four, from my iPhone.