On the Move

8 Months Old

Seriously? Is my baby girl really 8 months old already? I'm shocked. It really seems like only yesterday she was in the NICU. It's amazing how much can change in eight months. Amazing how a 5 pound, 2 ounces preemie has gone from her little NICU incubator of UV light and  monitors to a beautiful, happy, wiggly, giggly, busy eight month old. 

Just looking at the pictures from the hospital today made me catch my breath. I honestly can't remember all of the details following her birth. The days and hours and minutes blend together in my memory. But I remember the immense pride I felt when I got to see her for the first time. I remember tears rolling down my cheeks when I finally got to hold her in my arms. She was no bigger than Husband's hand. So tiny. So fragile, yet so strong. I knew that day that she was a fighter. She was driven. She was going to make it into this world no matter what.

Well today, she is certainly strong. Certainly driven. At eight months old, she is sitting up so tall. She is easily moving and scooting all over the place. While she isn't officially crawling yet, she will not be slowed. She is everywhere and into everything and we are quickly embarking on baby proofing territory. She can no longer be constrained by her swing. We  have sadly dissembled one of her first favorite things and packed it away until another little one graces our household.

She loves to be outside. She loves people, especially other children, and is always a smiley, giggly girl in public. She still loves her furry friend Banks. She plays with her tiny piano and her stacking rings daily, among (many) other things, and loves a singing green frog that her cousin Lydia loaned her. She's learning to entertain herself but still very much prefers for you to be there and has no problem letting you know how she feels. There are still days where she wants to be held the majority of the time, but I cherish it. I know days like these are fleeting.

She's eating like a big girl, devouring nearly everything I've made for her. Her current favorite vegetables are butternut squash and peas. She is not a huge fan of mashed potatoes, but will tolerate them. She doesn't love most fruit, but loves raspberry and roasted banana puree and newly, blueberry yogurt. Overall, she is easy to please in the food department. I'm hoping it stays that way!

She is so much fun. She babbles all day long, sometimes to me, sometimes to herself. She laughs and smiles constantly and it is such a joy to spend my days with her. I cannot wait to see what the next months (and years) bring because I can't imagine it being any more fun than it is right now.

Happy 8 months, my little love.

Bubble Wrap Suit

I've decided I'm inventing a suit made entirely of bubble wrap for C to wear while she learns this whole crawling thing.

It's either that or I'm lining the whole house with pillows.

Hard wood floors are not baby proof.

 

No Solicitation Here

Motherhood comes with a lot of unsolicited advice. It starts the moment you tell people you are pregnant. People suddenly feel the need to remind you that you can't drink or eat sushi or ride a wave runner or jump on a trampoline (seriously, nine months without a trampoline is just too much to ask...). 

Then, as soon as your belly protrudes enough that you have obviously not just eaten a large lunch, complete strangers join in. A server at a restaurant asked me to turn around when I was only 18 weeks pregnant because she said she had a gift of predicting the baby's sex from my body shape from behind. Not kidding. A few weeks before I had C, a woman behind me in the Target check out line told me I must be having a girl because she looked like me when she was pregnant with her daughter. Random people at the grocery store would comment on the food in my cart. One of the managers of a band I had booked at my job proceeded to discuss how important breast feeding was and asked me if I planned on doing so. And one of my favorites: while buying (an obscene amount of) beer and wine at Costco for our Christmas party, the check out lady actually asked, "this isn't for you, is it?" I only wished at that moment that I was buying a carton of cigarettes as well.

My point is, even before there is a baby, there is much much advice on how said baby should be raised. But once the baby is actually here, it only gets worse. Should she sleep on her back or stomach? Breastfeed or formula? When to introduce solids? Rice cereal in the bottle? Homemade food or not? Organic or not? Soy or dairy? Stroller or sling? Cradle vs. crib vs. family bed? Pacis? Tv? Daycare vs. stay at home? To sleep train or not to sleep train? O.M.G. It is exhausting.

Card my parents sent shortly after C was born

As if raising a tiny human were not stressful enough, you begin to consider all of this unsolicited advice and second guess your instincts because quite frankly, you're exhausted and pretty sure your brain's deductive reasoning skills shut down months ago.  I guess I open myself up to it as I throw a blog about my parenting decisions out into cyberspace for all to judge enjoy. And as in most circumstances, some advice is helpful and others not so much. But it's what you do with the advice that's important. It's about learning to take all the books and articles and advice from family, friends, and complete strangers, lump it all together, and go with your mommy gut (not to be confused with the 6 pounds that linger at the midsection). 


I have really been struggling with C's sleeping situation. It seemed I was fighting a losing battle. I felt like I was somehow failing as a mom and my lack of sleep was wearing on me physically and emotionally. And even though I knew that sleep training could end all of it, my gut just wouldn't let me do it all. My heart couldn't take letting her "cry it out." I have nothing against those who have gone before me and conquered. If anything, I am impressed. Sleep training is not for the weak. Instead, I took a few notes from the method (earlier bed time, routine naps, using sleep cues) and added in a few theories of my own. And, as I type this, we are on the third night of a normal 11-12 hour sleep stretch. Who knows if it will stick, but I have to give myself a little pat on the back on this one. I am so proud of my sweet girl for learning to soothe herself back to sleep; and I am so proud of myself for helping her do so without feeling like I was abandoning her. Maybe one day I will be able to sleep though the night without sneaking into her room to make sure she is still breathing.

Motherhood is no joke. It is wonderful, all encompassing, challenging, frustrating, amazing, exhausting, and so much fun, all at the same time. But, if you can't cut yourself a little slack and trust your own instincts (and vent to your other mommy girlfriends once in a while), you will absolutely lose it. Of this I am certain.


Goodnight.

Vanishing Act

You know when you were finally old enough to realize that a magician wasn't actually magic? When you finally realized that his vanishing act was merely a trick. A false floor, a burst of smoke, a distraction. Well, C's hemangioma is performing a vanishing act of its own... no strings attached. No tricks. 


C had a follow up appointment with her dermatologist yesterday. Since we were denied by insurance for laser surgery, we have opted to stick with other treatments. The thought of putting our baby girl through surgery for something that is now strictly cosmetic was more than Husband and I could handle. 


We are still using propranalol (blood pressure medication) thrice daily and applying clobetasol (steroid cream) at night for two weeks on and one week off. Dr. Theos was pleased with how they have been working. C's hemangioma is obviously much smaller in diameter, less raised, and less red. Just the difference from two months ago is amazing:

8-10-11 : 10-12-11

We were also thrilled to hear that we are on the tail end of all of this. Infantile hemangioma's like C's typically begin to decrease in size after six months of age and almost never increase after the first year. It's comforting to know that while it may still be there, it's going away.


Nothing could have prepared me for what would happen in the first couple months of her life. Being told that "it will get bigger" did not prepare me for the dark red, raised bump on my child's forehead, nor did it bring me ease when I thought it couldn't possibly get worse. But, to know that the treatments are working, and that in a year, there may be no sign of it at all, is freeing. Modern medicine is a wonderful thing.

Day 1 of treatment : After 5 months treatment

Now that C weighs a little more (16 pounds, 4 ounces as of yesterday), we were able to increase her dosage of propranalol. The propranalol is precautionary, just in case the hemangioma is still trying to grow. After her first birthday, we will taper it off completely. We are also beginning to taper off of the clobetasol. Instead of two consecutive weeks on and one off, we will only apply it every other night during the two weeks, then every third night, etc, until we are finished completely. I can't believe that one day very soon our daughter will no longer be on a daily regimen of medications!


It's hard to believe that in a few years or even months, this birth mark will vanish. Really vanish. It will not be concealed by a myriad of accessories. It will actually be gone. Forgotten. And as our beautiful daughter glances in the mirror, she will not see a scar from an unnecessary surgery. She will just see the beautiful olive complexion her Daddy gave her.

Such Stuff As Dreams are Made On...

...And our little life is rounded with a sleep.

Yep. You guessed it. I'm complaining about not sleeping again.

I've been working on sleep training (lite) with C. No matter how hard I try, I just can't let her cry it out. Maybe after a few more months of no sleep, I'll change my tune. But for now, I'm just working on keeping her on a regular schedule of naps and a routine at bed time, hoping it will fall into place eventually. 

She goes to bed every night at 7:30. At 7:00, we start the wind down routine with a bath and lavender lotion. Then on go the footed pjs and the sleep sack and we snuggle in the rocking chair with her paci and her lovey for story time and a song while she drifts off to sleep.

Easy right?

Nope.

Around 8:30, she squirms and wiggles and rolls over and cries. It's time for a bottle. Then we sit in the chair and rock and rock and rock until her eyes flutter to sleep.

9:30 or 10:00 and she cries as if awakened by a nightmare. I pick her up, wrap her in a fuzzy blanket, and rock her back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until she relaxes in the comfort of my arms, breathes out deeply, and she sleeps.

She sleeps hard. So hard that I watch her tiny chest move up and down on the monitor just to make sure she is still breathing. And I like to think she would stay this way, BUT, her next dose of medicine is at 11:30. So I wake the finally sleeping baby for a little formula with her meds, a diaper change, and more snuggle time until she sleeps. This time is much harder than the last. The wake up call is uncalled for and it throws off the rest of the night.

1:00... 2:30... 3:30... 4:45... then I am awakened for good at 7:00 with tiny fingers poking me in my eye and pulling my hair. I guess I should mention that somewhere among the hourly wake up calls, I give up and put C in bed with me, hoping she will sleep better if she is near me. Sometimes I am lucky and we sleep for three consecutive hours.

Once upon a time, C was a great sleeper. Never all night long, but usually only one wake up around 3:30. That, I could deal with. This new schedule is. killing. me. slowly.

There are theories. She is teething. She is too excited about crawling to sleep. She has separation anxiety from me. I attempt to diagnose the situation. But then I remind myself that it won't be this way forever. That I will blink and she will be too big to rock. She won't need me to rub her back until she falls asleep. She won't snuggle her tiny nose into my chest. There will come a time when all her troubles can't be solved by a lullaby. So I embrace the joy disguised as exhaustion. I celebrate the memories disguised as obligation. And we rock and rock and rock back and forth, back and forth, back and forth until all is right in her little world. 

For an hour or so at least.

Like Father, Like Daughter

Husband is a bit of a computer nerd. Like, the kind of nerd that says "pwned" in everyday conversation and makes onesies for his daughter like this one:

Lucky for him, we happen to love nerds around here.

Lately, C has become a bit of a technophile as well. She is definitely her father's daughter. Since around 3 months old, we have fully embraced the wonder that is Baby Einstein. This happy show of hand puppets and rotating images of bubbles and syrup has kept C's attention while I did exciting things like shower and eat. But lately, her love of technology has expanded a bit. 

She loves my iPad. I mean loves my iPad. I'm pretty she thinks it's hers. I downloaded some child friendly games and she not only recognizes them, but knows exactly what to do. Some of her favorites are Bubble Popper Pro, Farm Animals for Toddlers, and Fruit Ninja.

Then there is the issue of the cell phone. It's shiny. It glows. We talk to Daddy on speaker phone. Why wouldn't it be appealing? The thing is, I am already a terrible phone owner. I drop them in water, down stairs, into glasses of tea. Bad things happen to my phones. So, not wanting to add "death by baby" to reasons I am no longer insurable, we did the only logical thing.

Got her her own.

Don't worry. It's my dad's old Motorola RAZR. She can't go over on her data plan and apparently, it is delicious.

Her birthdays are going to get expensive very fast. I should be worried, right?

I'll Pencil You In

C and I are visiting my parents this week while Husband is at a
work conference in California. As I type this, he is in Disneyland. Words do not express my jealousy. Disney anything is my happy place. Anyway, I digress.

While chatting with my parents tonight about our plans for tomorrow, I realized I sounded like the assistant of a very busy socialite. Mom asked if we were coming to her school tomorrow (C already made an appearance today, but some of our favorite teachers weren't there, so an encore appearance is needed). This was my reply:

"Well, Thursday morning might be better because she has her photo shoot in the morning, then a play date at 1:30, then Mason (my cousin) is coming over at 4:00, so she's pretty busy."

I really should get her some sort of mobile device so she can keep her schedule at her tiny little fingertips. Luckily, she has a very good assistant.



Being a social butterfly is exhausting...


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Location:Montgomery