The breaking point

I am an idiot. I never, ever, EVER should have said that the first six weeks were easy. Because the last 10 days have been, well, not.

Jackson has developed a personality. And opinions. We have some good days and some bad days. Moments where he is smiling and cooing are quickly offset by moments where Jackson is screaming his head off. (In one book I read that "passionate" parents typically produce passionate children. So, basically, here's my payback.)

The latest phase has Jackson refusing to be put down when he's napping. If he's being held he'll sleep for two or three hour stretches but if we put him in a swing or carseat or bouncy seat he's awake in 20 minutes screaming bloody murder. And then he's overtired. And we all know what happens next.

Being one of those people who believes there is a right and wrong way to do everything, and also that knowledge is power, I've read a ton of baby books. And the more I read about how to do things the "right" way, the more I start to get confused. In fact, I've read so many books that the experts are starting to contradict each other. Where is Parenting for Dummies? Isn't there a Bible for Moms?

With arms and a back that ached from carrying a baby around all day, I sent off an email last night to the Old Town Moms listserve, an email group I joined that shares advice on random baby things (everything from daycare recommendations to deals on diapers). I mentioned that our seven-week-old would only sleep when swaddled or being held and asked for suggestions on reversing that trend. Convinced I was missing out on some great parental secret since I apparently am just no good at this, I thought someone could share their insight.

Turns out, nobody had any insights - really. They all just said, "It's a phase. He'll get over it. Enjoy it because one day he won't be little and you'll miss these moments, we promise." While that all made me feel better, my inability to eat or shower during the day while Chad is working has been fabulous for my figure but not so great for my psyche. I was hoping for an actual s-o-l-u-t-i-o-n.

I responded to one woman in particular who suggested swaddling him while he was napping. (Jackson sleeps fairly well at night because he's swaddled.) I mentioned in my email to her that the Miracle Blanket instructions said not to swaddle your child for more than 10 hours a day. I asked if she agreed with that, and received the following email from her this afternoon:

Honestly, no I don't think you can- unless you are literally swaddling all day- even during waking times.

Truth is, there is virtually nothing you can do in these first three months that will have lasting effects.  OK- mainly an opinion- but you can't spoil a baby. :) I think, as was said, when you hold them and they sleep for hours it is basically the same thing as swaddling.  They are close, snuggly, warm, can hear your heartbeat, they are, basically, prevented from wiggling/startling and this is what keeps them asleep.  They are so little and sleep so much - even still- that so many naps is pretty normal.  My littlest was still so sleepy at 10 weeks I was worried. Now she is 16 weeks and awake so often I wonder what I ever worried about.  She's napping in her swing these days but it's just what she needs right now. Eventually, I'll transition her to the crib (sis is already there), if it doesn't work at first- we'll try again later. 

Here is my theory. Take it for what it's worth (probably not much haha!) but I do have 2 kids, 4 and 6 years, that are relatively normal - meaning my friends don't go run screaming when we show up - and 2 more that seem to be progressing nicely. :)

I never read any baby books, just part of happiest baby. (The 5 Ss are the most important tip for soothing a baby for sure.) Otherwise, the first year stinks. Seriously. Not to sound depressing but it is so hard - the hardest work we have done in our lives.  The baby is constantly changing. No one book will encompass all your baby needs and once you start reading multiple books you'll lose your mind. 

Follow your heart and your mommy instinct.  There is nothing wrong with survival mode, especially in the first three months. Start shooting for a routine around 4 months. In general, baby wakes up- eats- is up for 1-2 hours then sleeps- then repeat for rest of day until night time. Eventually, your baby's schedule will emerge- and there you go.  And then it will change- and here we go again:)

If you are loving on that baby and there for them when they need you, you've done it right.   

If I knew where she lived, I'd send her flowers. Here's a woman with four kids - two of them being just four months old - who took time to send the world's longest email to a new mom that's come close to her breaking point. (And I actually didn't even sound desperate in my email!)

Sometimes I think parents who have been removed from this for even six months to a year forget what these first few weeks are like. (And, hey, I don't blame you - there are parts of this I'm hoping to forget, too!) So it was particularly meaningful to hear from somebody who is in the trenches with me. I feel a zillion times better.

I love what she said so much that I might print it out and put it in every room in my house. And I've put the baby books away for now. This next chapter will be called "Instinctual Parenting." To be continued...

All in my head

There are all sorts of things people don't tell you about having a baby (couldn't someone have warned me that I would never be able to eat a hot meal again?), but one in particular is really messing with me.

Let me introduce you to Phantom Baby Syndrome, which I have defined as the uncanny ability of a mother to hear a baby - any baby - cry. While the wailing is sometimes real, it is often imaginary, leading new mothers to wonder if they truly are losing their minds.

New parents, beware: PBS comes on suddenly and often without warning. Sleep deprivation or stress makes it worse. Prolonged PBS can often lead to trouble breathing, stomach aches, distracted conversations with friends, inability to concentrate, and sprints across your house for no reason. There is no cure.

I must admit: I suffer from chronic PBS. My symptoms began about two days after we brought Jackson home from the hospital and continue almost constantly. I swear I heard Jackson crying last week when I was out on a walk (and he was at home with Chad). My baby radar picked up a newborn's fussing three aisles away at Target. A few nights ago in my sleep, I groggily walked over to Jackson's crib ready to stroke his hair or pop in a pacifier or (worst case scenario) pick up and rock him only to find a nearly-snoring baby contentedly sleeping with his mouth wide open. He hadn't made a sound. Sheepishly, I went back to bed. That was a new low.

I take solace in the fact that I am not alone. Though not widely talked about, many moms and dads silently suffer with PBS. My only question to them is: When does it end?

Just the ten of us

I've been fairly lucky for my entire adult life - and most of my childhood - to have a great relationship with my siblings and parents. We've had a blast on family vacations, created bizarre Christmas traditions, and savored the few times a year we all get together. We're fiercely protective of each other, but we're also brutally honest: I think nothing of telling one of my sisters when they make me mad or inform my mom when something is none of her business. We don't let things fester and we've got no hidden agendas. Life as one of the six Tolleys has been awfully darn good.

But everybody knew we weren't going to live with mom and dad forever. (Sorry mom. Sorry dad.) Eventually we'd go to college, move away, and have our own families. Presuming we'd all get married, I've wondered for a long time who the four people would be who'd enter our family and how they'd change the ways we interact and get along.

Though we all got married in different years, Chad, Paul and Nick all came along as significant others within about four months of each other. They each adjusted to our crazy dynamic in their own way and I imagine when the original Tolleys made them nuts they were able to complain to each other.

With the girls out of the way, I've had a few extra years to wonder about my brother. Who would he pick? What would she be like? What would she think about a guy with three sisters? Would we endlessly irritate her to the point that she didn't want to hang out with us - and he didn't either? (Yes I'm paranoid, but I think of these things.)

Two years ago, we got our answer. From the first time we met Mallory, we knew she was awesome. And last weekend - finally! - Dan asked her to marry him.

Do we like Mallory? (Not that it matters, but I'll answer anyway.) Yes, she's amazing. I like her despite the fact that she's tall, gorgeous, makes thoughtful homemade Christmas gifts that people really want, prefers getting her hands dirty to shopping and tells hilarious stories. (In other words, she makes RT, Janice and me look bad.) You can't pick your sisters but if you could, she'd be in the running.

On August 20, Mallory will officially join our crazy family and the Tolley circle will be complete. While this marriage is not about me in the least, I feel a gratifying sense of closure. The last puzzle piece has been found. And she fits perfectly.

The tipping point

Jackson is six weeks old today. As I'm sure anyone who has had a baby can attest, the last 42 days have been the most surreal, intense, weird days of my entire life. It all passes so quickly, yet every day feels a little like Groundhog Day. They've been joyful. Stressful. Confusing. Exhausting. Exhilarating. Hilarious. And, dare I say, fun. Waiting until you're 32 years old to have a baby definitely has one perk: I'm old enough to enjoy it and soak in the experience. All the minutia that would have stressed me out or set me over the edge at 23 isn't even on my radar at the moment.

I've been reading one parenting book after another - the latest is a book on establishing healthy sleep habits - and every single book points to the six-week mark as a major milestone. Tonight I read how six weeks is when the baby's neurological system begins to develop to the point where he or she can sleep longer. (Hallelujah!) Earlier I read that the six-week mark is when the baby becomes more socially aware and tends to be more fussy since he or she wants to be awake more to soak in these new surroundings and has a tendency to get overtired.

Either way, the six-week point seems to be a turning point, and I am beginning to feel a little bit of the fog lifting. I want to shout victoriously, "We made it!" (Though at the same time, it's bittersweet. I'm not going to get these days back.)

So now that we've made it past that all-important six-week mark, let me say this: This experience has been more gratifying and far less difficult than I had expected. Keep in mind that I had very low expectations: I was a colicky baby and I was sure that my child would pay me back in spades. I had visions of constant screaming all night every night for three months. Believe me, a bit of fussiness every now and then paled in comparison to what I thought would be my destiny.

That said, I have forgotten a little bit what a "normal" life is like: going shopping or on a walk with just my purse or house keys, making plans that don't revolve around an every-three-hours feeding schedule, interacting with more people than those who stop by to see us. I forget what I used to do on the weekends or at night after work since this baby thing is literally 24/7 at this point. And I feel so grateful that we have family and such amazing friends who have been a huge support to us as we tried to navigate this.

I told my doctor today at my six-week check-up that I felt lucky - Jackson is a good sleeper, doesn't fuss much and seems to have a very easygoing personality. "It's not luck," she said in her matter-of-fact tone. "Easygoing parents have easygoing kids." Perhaps that's true and I really am an easygoing parent...or maybe Chad is easygoing enough for the two or us, or I've just got Jackson fooled into thinking I'm fairly chill. Either way, I'll take it!

Morning people, Part II

I've mentioned before that none of us - not even the dog - are morning people. We gripe and groan and would sleep until 10:00 if we could. (Although these days, 8:00 feels late!)

We're lucky that, so far, we've been blessed with a great sleeper. Jackson usually clocks about 8-9 hours a night, waking up once for a feeding and then going right back to sleep. (I've even had one six-hour stretch of sleep, after which I felt like a million bucks!) And when Jackson wakes up, unlike his parents, he is just always in a good mood. Most mornings, I wake up and look over and he's just lying there checking out the world.

Last night Jackson slept in his own bedroom for the first time. (It kind of made me sad, I have to say.) This morning I woke up, cleaned up our room and got ready for the day, then wandered into his room about 8:30. He was just chilling out. He even offered up a half-smile!

Time to eat

Lucy's mealtime is structured - she knows when you say "Time to Eat!" that she should go to her bowl and always accompanies you down to the basement in case you forget where the food is - but we're not nearly this good...

The art of second-guessing

Two nights ago, we had a major meltdown in this house. I'm talking about a four-hour, no-holds-barred scream-fest. (And, no, it wasn't Chad.)

I've rationally been telling myself during the fussy moments that when the baby is crying, he's just trying to tell me something. There's a problem and my job is to figure out what it is, then solve it. (I've also been reminding myself in these moments that this, too, shall pass.) But this was not fussiness - this was a full-out tantrum in every sense of the word. And in the midst of this 180-minute ordeal - though it's not like I was counting - I attempted to determine the following:

• Was it something I ate? (And if so, what was it? Turkey? Potatoes? Milk? That soda? The list goes on...and on...really...) And if it was something I ate, just let me figure out what it was and Dear Lord I promise not to do that again!
• Is he gassy?
• Is he tired?  Did he sleep too much?
• Did he go too long without a feeding this afternoon?
• Is he hot? Cold? Wet?
• Maybe he's overstimulated
• Does he want to be put down? Swaddled? (The answer to both was a definitive NO.)
• Does he want to be held?
• Is he sick?
• Did that trip to the store set him over the edge?
• Perhaps he wants to be held this way...or this way...or this way...
• Is he hungry? Is he eating too much?
• Is he mad at me?

Chad and I are both fairly level-headed people, believing that there is an explanation for everything. But in this case, there seemed to be no explanation. Jackson was just mad at the world.

Finally, we gave up with the second-guessing and game of questions. Jackson was eventually talked down from his ledge with a lot of rocking, singing and patience. We reminded ourselves that there is no way he'll ever remember this, even though we felt like complete garbage at the time. (To be fair, I imagine the experience wasn't so much fun for him either.)

The last several days have been much better and we're chalking up Jackson's little tirade to an innate need that we all have to just burn off a little steam every now and then. And even though his outburst tested my patience (and Chad's, and my mom's, and maybe even the neighbors'), you sure forget about it when he wakes up the next morning bright-eyed and happy. This little boy melts my heart. How could I stay frustrated at this face?

Jackson's first month and favorite toy

How has it been two weeks since I've blogged? How can your life change so much in just one month?

I've got a lot to say about our first month with Jackson, which I'll save for a later post. Since I've blogged last, my mom has come back to town for a few weeks (hallelujah for her long Christmas break!), Jackson's other grandparents and Uncle Evan came to stay for several days, and Chad and I took advantage of all the free babysitting to go out to a few dinners and even see friends on New Year's Eve.

Today, Jackson is one month old. And what a long, strange trip it's been. We feel pretty lucky to have such an easygoing, happy child (with a few exceptions) and are having so much fun watching him explore new things. Both of his grandmas say they've seen him smile but since he hasn't smiled at me yet I'm chalking those up to just gas. I mean, please, I'm his mother. I'm the one who changes poopy diapers and gets up in the middle of the night when he cries - how dare he honestly grace someone else with his first real smile! Or at least that's what I'm telling myself.



A bit about the toy...Jackson got a Gloworm for Christmas from one of his great aunts and uncles. About a week ago while he was having a minor meltdown during a diaper change (this child hates to have his clothes taken off), I grabbed the closest thing I could find...and it was magic. Jackson loves the lights and the music. It's a fixture on the changing table now. Many thanks to Kenny and Debbie!