Little Bit of This, Little Bit of That; or, 4 Months!

I hate to write a quick bullet-point post, but life has been hectic of late and I'm afraid that's all I can squeeze in right now. So here goes!

My Sweet Smudgie is four months old now. He is incredible: full of smiles and wiggles, so alert and eager to explore the world around him (especially if the piece of said world can be jammed in his drooly little mouth).

He's a wee little peanut, only 12 lbs 1 oz and 24 inches long. Definitely going to be long and lean like his papa. He had his four month shots earlier this week and was a total champ about them-- not even 30 seconds worth of crying and then he was back to flashing his huge, flirty grin at the nurse (this kid's a hit with the ladies, let me tell you). That night he was very drowsy and had some sad moments of crying, but overall he was great.

Twice a week, Smudgie is with our nanny and another little boy (who's just under two months old [ed. no, I mean two YEARS old!]). And Twice a week I criss-cross NYC: teaching a class in one borough, auditing a class with my advisor in another, fitting in a yoga class or a therapy session or errands or doctor's appointments in between. The days are so full that I don't have time to miss Smudgie too much until I see him again at night and my heart explodes. Then we only have a half hour to spend together before he goes to sleep, and I hold him close and nurse him and read to him and feel extr-super grateful that we get to spend the whole next day together.

It took some diligent effort on my part, but Smudgie is a total hero at napping in his crib. Starting at about three months, I made sure to put him down in there for at least one of his naps every day and to do whatever it took (rocking, shushing, patting, stroking, covering his face with a burp cloth--while I stood directly next to him the entire time, of course) to get him to fall asleep. If he only slept for 20 minutes, I still counted it a success so I wouldn't get discouraged and give up in desperation. I wanted him to learn to associate day-time sleep with the crib before I went back to teaching. And now, four weeks later, it's working really well! Smudgie takes three naps a day and I try very hard to make sure the first two (which are both 1 hour+) are in his crib. That gives me time to get some reading or lesson-planning or chores--or blogging--done.

Also right around 3 months we started cloth diapering him. I had bought all the diapers on sale over the summer while I was pregnant but wanted to wait until he was close to 10 pounds before using them. And then I just felt nervous about making the transition. But it only took a few days of trial and error to get the hang of it, and now it's going great! We still use sposies at night and when he's with his nanny, but the other five days of the week we are exclusively cloth. His tush looks so chubby and adorable in them, they are easy to put on and change, they don't blow-out as much as the sposies, and they are so soft and comfy. I kind of wish my undies were that delicious feeling. I also installed a diaper sprayer to our toilet water supply all by myself (with an assist from YouTube). See, motherhood does develop new skill sets!

The first day that we transitioned him he got very upset during diaper changes. He doesn't love new sensations, so I think he was just trying to process it. But the next day (and ever since) he's been fine. Our favorite of his dipes are his bumgeniuses--they are SO absorbent and fit like a dream despite being adjustable up to 35 pounds. When we have another baby, I will definitely jump into the cloth diapering faster now that I've seen how manageable it is.

Not much else is going on. Life is full of reading and writing and teaching and playing and doing laundry and pumping breastmilk and cuddling my perfect little one. I have truly never been this busy or this happy. I hope I can hold onto this feeling of deep contentment all my life--I know things will get harder (and easier!) at various points, but I want never to forget how blessed I feel right now.

And finally, what you've all been waiting for...Smudgie pic!

Giving Thanks; or, Planning the Unplannable

It's way too early for us to be thinking about second (or later) children. And yet it's also only natural to say things like, "We'll do x/y/z when we have another one" or "In my next pregnancy I'll [blank]."

We still qualify with the infertile if. "If we have another child." "If I'm pregnant again." People must think that we're undecided about having more kids, when really we are (or I am) just careful after learning in a hard school not to count chickens. Don't want the universe to suspect we're making assumptions. No good ever comes of that.

But I did assume. I assumed we'd approach the task of giving Smudgie a sibling with the same dedication we went after parenthood in the first place: everything on the table and all our chips in. Now, after a brief, preliminary, and by no means definitive conversation with Lawyer Guy, I don't know anymore.

He wants a second child (and is possibly open to considering a third) but perhaps there are limits to what he'll do to have one, limits that didn't apply in the same way to the first. He suspects he wouldn't want to adopt. Or at least not to blithely assume it's a possibility for us without giving it serious thought. IVF also is a question mark.

I want Smudgie to have a brother or sister. I also love my husband and need him to be comfortable with any family-building method we choose. We've tabled these conversations until we actually need to have them (i.e., not for at least another year and likely even longer). But for the first time, I'm considering that Smudgie could wind up an only child, a scary proposition to someone with three siblings.

I feel angry that IF and loss are still rearing their heads in our lives, angry that we can't plan out our family with the railway timetable precision that so many of our family and friends can apply. I feel worried and a little sad that I may never have the family of my dreams. I feel tired at the thought of more ART and the tough conversations it inspires. I feel hopeful that we wont have to fight as hard this time, that we'll conceive again on our own and this time it will stick.

Mostly, though, I feel grateful for my son. I held him this weekend and stroked his unbelievably soft little velvety head. And I thought back to that conversation with LG when Smudgie woke me for an unexpected third time last night. Because this might be it. This might be my one shot at mommyhood, my one time with a newborn, and I don't want to miss or wish away a single moment of it.

I guess that's true for everyone. Maybe I should also feel grateful that I, at least, know it.

Happy Thanksgiving.

Calms and Storms; or, One Month!

A good friend (with a four month old daughter) sent me a care package after Smudgie was born, and in this package was a novel, A Big Storm knocked it Over by Laurie Colwin, an author I love. I spent the past week reading the novel in fits and spurts-- a few pages in bed before collapsing to sleep, a chapter or two in a coffee shop around the corner from my house, a big chunk lying on the floor of the bathroom while Smudgie chilled out in his bouncy chair, lulled to sleep by the bathroom fan and running shower (yes, it wastes both water and electricity, but it calms him down so that's that).

Toward the end of the book, I found a post-it note in the novel left by my friend. She wrote: "To me, this is the perfect description of mothering a newborn." The paragraph she described is this one:

Motherhood is a storm, a seizure: It is like weather. Nights of high wind followed by calm mornings of dense fog or brilliant sunshine that gives way to tropical rain, or blinding snow. Jane Louise and Edie found themselves swept away, cast ashore, washed overboard. It was hard to keep anything straight. The days seemed to congeal like rubber cement, although moments stood out in clearest, starkest brilliance. You might string these together on the charm bracelet of your memory if you could keep your eyes open long enough to remember anything (Colwin 225).

My little boy has had quite a stormy day, which succeeds the calmest and easiest night since he was born 1 month and 1 day ago. (So long a time! And so short!). He weighs 7 lbs 10 oz, which is almost two pounds more than when he was discharged from the hospital. He's awake for longer during the day and notices more and more-- lights shining through blinds, the orange hanging squirrel on his activity mat, his puppy sister Bella, his mommy's and daddy's eyes. He has formidable neck strength and is lulled to complacency (most of the time) by a running hairdryer. Last night, Lawyer Guy and I laid pillows and blankets on the floor of his room so we could run the hairdryer until Smudgie slept without worrying about burning his room down.

(I felt like a kid who had made a secret fort. We kissed under the blankets and it was one of those perfect moments I know I'll never forget).

I figured out how to get out of the house on my own-- snap the baby in his car seat, carry it down the stairs, negotiate getting stroller base/baby/diaper bag (and sometimes dog) out the door in shifts and down to the sidewalk and putting it all together, and then walk or meet a new friend or sit and eat lunch and read. It does make a difference to see the sunshine. The time passes faster until LG returns home.

And yesterday, on his One Month birthday, I thought that Smudgie gave me his first smile. We propped him against the boppy to photograph him and he looked right at me and smiled. I smiled back and he did it again, and I snapped this picture:

And then he pooped. A lot and loudly. Which is maybe also a metaphor for motherhood.

Looks like there's a stormy night ahead. I'd better go and get him from his daddy so we can batten down the hatches.