I can't believe how quickly S's twelve weeks of parental leave have flown by. A week from today, he returns to work and Peanut will be in daycare full time - nearly 50 hours per week. (I guess I should mention here that in early June, we stumbled upon a seemingly great residential daycare in our neighborhood - and with much relief, decided to sign Peanut up.)
Today, Peanut began her transition to daycare by visiting the facility for an hour. S sent me a picture of her with one of the providers this morning, and when I saw it, I unexpectedly started crying. The tears came and went all day, in fact. In the photo she was smiling, and seemed happy. It began to really hit me that S and I are no longer going to be her primary caretakers. We are entering a time in our lives when other folks will be helping to raise our child in a meaningful and significant way.
When I returned to work in mid-April, the transition, for me, was relatively easy. I enjoyed being back in my routine and felt good about the fact that S had an opportunity to spend a few months with Peanut. I needed a break from the exhaustion of caring for a newborn on my own and not really being able to take care of myself. I don't think I took into account how much of the fact that S was at home helped me emotionally jump right back into my work.
Now that Peanut is almost six months old, I am realizing I have more emotional work to do as I continue to show up at my office every day. Much more. This transition is the one that involves both of us being away from her, all day, every day, for the forseeable future. Maybe forever. This transition involves opening our hearts to others, trusting complete strangers, letting go of control of the world around her, and picking our battles. How important is it for us to stand up for Peanut's right to not have petroleum jelly spread on her bum after every diaper change, or to be exposed to television, no matter how "educational" the content, all day long? How much will we open ourselves to being taught by others? How much will Peanut's understanding of the world around her be shaped by people with whom we don't necessarily share certain core values?
It feels really scary, hard, and sad. I'm not quite as ready for this change as I thought I'd be.
Monday, July 8, 2013
Monday, July 1, 2013
The Fierce Love of a Papa
This past weekend, S, Peanut and I attended the wedding of a family friend. We anticpated that Peanut would take a nap during the evening reception, but between the bumping DJ, the energized emcee, and the excited wedding guests, the event turned out to be VERY loud. We decided that one of us should hold little Peanut close, cover her up with a blanket, and rock her during the raucous festivities. S did so first, and at some point left the room to help soothe our little one.
When he returned to the dinner table, S continued to hold and rock her, and talked to her softly through the blanket. I decided to check in to ask if he needed some help, as nearly 45 minutes had passed.
Me: "Aren't you tired of holding her? I'm happy to take over."
S: "No, I'm not tired. I'm very happy holding her in my arms. I will hold her every day until she's 18 years old. And longer. Maybe when she's 21, I'll say, now my arms can rest."
Maybe it was the fact that we were listening to sweet, emotional wedding toasts. More likely, it's just that S has such a beautiful way with words. But his comment was so unexpected, and moved me so much, that my chest swelled up and I had to hold back tears. I simply nodded in response, and turned back to the hoopla on the dance floor. All I could think was, how lucky is Peanut to be blessed by such a fiercely loving, expressive, and devoted Papa?
When he returned to the dinner table, S continued to hold and rock her, and talked to her softly through the blanket. I decided to check in to ask if he needed some help, as nearly 45 minutes had passed.
Me: "Aren't you tired of holding her? I'm happy to take over."
S: "No, I'm not tired. I'm very happy holding her in my arms. I will hold her every day until she's 18 years old. And longer. Maybe when she's 21, I'll say, now my arms can rest."
Maybe it was the fact that we were listening to sweet, emotional wedding toasts. More likely, it's just that S has such a beautiful way with words. But his comment was so unexpected, and moved me so much, that my chest swelled up and I had to hold back tears. I simply nodded in response, and turned back to the hoopla on the dance floor. All I could think was, how lucky is Peanut to be blessed by such a fiercely loving, expressive, and devoted Papa?
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
Small thoughts on a big day
"Children born today will grow up in a world without DOMA." -Edie Windsor, 6/26/13
It was upon hearing plaintiff Edie Windsor say these ten words, as I stood in a conference room filled with my exuberant, proud colleagues this morning, that I finally teared up. The Defense of Marriage Act - DOMA - has been taken down. I am feeling such a mix of emotions. It has been a whirlwind of a week, politically - between the Supreme Court gutting the Voting Rights Act and blatantly disregarding the Indian Child Welfare Act, and the ever ongoing fight to defend reproductive rights in the state of Texas - and now the end of DOMA and Prop 8. We are living in complicated times - simultaneously disappointing and inspiring.
People have been calling Edie a "shero" and comparing her to Rosa Parks, Harvey Milk, and Martin Luther King, Jr. And to me, those are short-sighted (even offensive) comparisons. Edie is a privileged, white, wealthy woman with access to incredible resources who maybe just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She was a palatable icon for the marriage equality movement and was strategically employed by a huge movement of people working toward marriage equality for many years. Her case was based on the fact that she had to pay more than $350K in estate taxes. She is a charming, thoughtful person, and a great activist; but she did not single-handedly take down DOMA.
But these ten words moved me. When I think about little Peanut, and the world in which she will now grow up, I have to say I'm incredibly grateful that she will not have to know DOMA, or have the experience in which her parents' marriage is sort-of-but-not-really recognized (well, at least on the federal level).
Today, I was so grateful for my colleagues and thousands of people who have been tirelessly working to secure equal rights and protections for queer folks who choose to get legally married. I am feeling lucky to be alive at this moment in queer history.
Now more resources, energy and attention should be directed into the immense work for equality and justice that remains. Radicals and leftists to whom I look up, and for whom I have a great deal of respect, have done right to remind me today that marriage is the wrong goal in movements for equality and justice, and that there is much, much work to be done on many different priorities that affect the most vulnerable among us.
It was upon hearing plaintiff Edie Windsor say these ten words, as I stood in a conference room filled with my exuberant, proud colleagues this morning, that I finally teared up. The Defense of Marriage Act - DOMA - has been taken down. I am feeling such a mix of emotions. It has been a whirlwind of a week, politically - between the Supreme Court gutting the Voting Rights Act and blatantly disregarding the Indian Child Welfare Act, and the ever ongoing fight to defend reproductive rights in the state of Texas - and now the end of DOMA and Prop 8. We are living in complicated times - simultaneously disappointing and inspiring.
People have been calling Edie a "shero" and comparing her to Rosa Parks, Harvey Milk, and Martin Luther King, Jr. And to me, those are short-sighted (even offensive) comparisons. Edie is a privileged, white, wealthy woman with access to incredible resources who maybe just happened to be in the right place at the right time. She was a palatable icon for the marriage equality movement and was strategically employed by a huge movement of people working toward marriage equality for many years. Her case was based on the fact that she had to pay more than $350K in estate taxes. She is a charming, thoughtful person, and a great activist; but she did not single-handedly take down DOMA.
But these ten words moved me. When I think about little Peanut, and the world in which she will now grow up, I have to say I'm incredibly grateful that she will not have to know DOMA, or have the experience in which her parents' marriage is sort-of-but-not-really recognized (well, at least on the federal level).
Today, I was so grateful for my colleagues and thousands of people who have been tirelessly working to secure equal rights and protections for queer folks who choose to get legally married. I am feeling lucky to be alive at this moment in queer history.
Now more resources, energy and attention should be directed into the immense work for equality and justice that remains. Radicals and leftists to whom I look up, and for whom I have a great deal of respect, have done right to remind me today that marriage is the wrong goal in movements for equality and justice, and that there is much, much work to be done on many different priorities that affect the most vulnerable among us.
Tuesday, May 21, 2013
Nanny share
S and I recently began to come to terms with the fact that we will not be able to care for Peanut on our own forever. Soon, we will both be back at work full-time, and will need to introduce another caregiver into our lives. We've generally assumed the best scenario for our family would be a nanny share. The idea is that two families hire a nanny to care for both kids at once. It's good for each family, because it splits the cost (which can then end up being more affordable than daycare) and the kids have a chance to socialize with each other. And it's good for a nanny, who ends up generally earning a higher salary than s/he would caring for one child.
We were recently excited to come across a neighborhood listserv posting from a family looking for a nanny share as well. I reached out to them with a tentative email. "We're looking for queer-friendly family to participate in a nanny share with us." I held my breath and waited for a response. Several hours later, they wrote back. They passed the first test: feeling okay enough to have their kid around a queer couple. Cool. We had some back and forth about our general needs and expectations, and when it seemed we were all on the same page, we set up a time to meet. It turned out, they lived pretty nearby and had a kid the same age as Peanut. Cool again.
We spent a solid two hours feeling each other out at our first meeting. On the surface, the family appeared to be very different from ours. Us: an interracial, inter-religious-but-mostly-secular leftist vegetarian-leaning queer couple, both nonprofiteers who rent a run-down one-bedroom apartment. Them: a white, Catholic, straight couple from the south, both reporters who own a well-maintained two-bedroom coop. When I walked in the door to their apartment and saw that one of them was wearing an NYPD t-shirt, I had my guard up about their values and politics. When we came out to them, it was clear from the language they used ("we're totally ok with homosexuality") they didn't have much experience with queers like us. Ultimately, though, I was impressed and surprised with how open they were, and how much we seemed to share expectations about raising our kids. They challenged my own assumptions and stereotypes. I mean, let's be real, not everyone is going to be open to having their kid spend a lot of time around a transexual man and a queer Muslim woman - especially ones who are total strangers. The fact that they were not only comfortable, but welcoming of us, to me, spoke volumes about their characters. After the meeting, I remarked to S, "while I wouldn't have picked them off the street as friends, I think we have the potential to get along well."
From there, we moved quickly and optimistically forward. We set up interviews with three different potential caregivers during the following week, to be conducted with both families simultaneously. We were riding high, feeling pleasantly surprised that things seemed to be moving so smoothly and we'd have care set up for Peanut by the end of the month. Then we had the first interview. In short - it was not cool. The caregiver had been recommended to the other family by a close friend, so they saw her through a lens of trust and familiarity. To us, she was a total stranger. While she clearly seemed to be comfortable with infants and was kind and approachable in her demeanor, we saw some big red flags. She described herself as a Seventh Day Adventist who would sing bible songs to soothe the babies. When we told her we were queer ("kind of like a gay couple" is how we explained it, I think) and didn't believe in gay people, but didn't think it was her place (it was God's place) to judge them. While she said she would respect our wishes (not to sing religious songs, for example), her answers to other questions demonstrated that this would not actually be the case. We communicated to the other family that we felt pretty strongly that this nanny was not a good fit for us.
They, on the other hand, felt very comfortable with her. We all went ahead and interviewed the two other candidates, but it was clear they had decided the first candidate was the best match for them. The tension built between our families for a few days. Were we now locked into an uncomfortable partnership? Were our needs just too different to make this work? Was this a sign of differences and disagreements to come down the road? Should we initiate a break-up?
S and I carried the anxiety and questions in our bellies for days. We talked and processed late into every night, barely able to sleep. We quickly learned that not only was working with another family very (and probably almost too) challenging for us given the care of our little one was at stake, but we weren't quite comfortable with a nanny arrangement at all. While we certainly know and trust there are many loving, amazing and nurturing paid caregivers in the world, we realized since we don't have a recommendation or personal experience with someone who would generally share our values and respect our family, we felt incredibly vulnerable and protective of Peanut.
We are proud of who we are, and we want Peanut to feel proud of herself and her family, too. We want her to know she is worthy of love and belonging, that she is a part of a family with a rich, beautiful and diverse history, that has a unique story to tell. We want her spirit to be cared for and nurtured by a caregiver with whom she can explore her own creativity and desires, whatever they may be. We are especially conscious that we want to find a caregiver who will respect her self-determination around gender identity and expression as she grows up.
The other family finally wrote us an email to say, very kindly and respectfully, that they didn't think the nanny share situation would work out. We were relieved and let them know we agreed. We were grateful, not only that we wouldn't ultimately be pressured to work with a caregiver that didn't feel right for us, but also that we were able to retain a good relationship with the other family despite our differences.
The experience ultimately was an unexpected but incredibly powerful test for us as parents. It helped us clarify our needs, where we will stretch, and where we will set boundaries for our family. It brought me and S closer together, and reminded us why we click and love one another. And taught us, very concretely, that we are going to have to be willing to fight for what we feel is right for Peanut. We are now beginning to explore other options for Peanut's care, hopefully with more clarity and assurance that we know where we stand and what she deserves.
We were recently excited to come across a neighborhood listserv posting from a family looking for a nanny share as well. I reached out to them with a tentative email. "We're looking for queer-friendly family to participate in a nanny share with us." I held my breath and waited for a response. Several hours later, they wrote back. They passed the first test: feeling okay enough to have their kid around a queer couple. Cool. We had some back and forth about our general needs and expectations, and when it seemed we were all on the same page, we set up a time to meet. It turned out, they lived pretty nearby and had a kid the same age as Peanut. Cool again.
We spent a solid two hours feeling each other out at our first meeting. On the surface, the family appeared to be very different from ours. Us: an interracial, inter-religious-but-mostly-secular leftist vegetarian-leaning queer couple, both nonprofiteers who rent a run-down one-bedroom apartment. Them: a white, Catholic, straight couple from the south, both reporters who own a well-maintained two-bedroom coop. When I walked in the door to their apartment and saw that one of them was wearing an NYPD t-shirt, I had my guard up about their values and politics. When we came out to them, it was clear from the language they used ("we're totally ok with homosexuality") they didn't have much experience with queers like us. Ultimately, though, I was impressed and surprised with how open they were, and how much we seemed to share expectations about raising our kids. They challenged my own assumptions and stereotypes. I mean, let's be real, not everyone is going to be open to having their kid spend a lot of time around a transexual man and a queer Muslim woman - especially ones who are total strangers. The fact that they were not only comfortable, but welcoming of us, to me, spoke volumes about their characters. After the meeting, I remarked to S, "while I wouldn't have picked them off the street as friends, I think we have the potential to get along well."
From there, we moved quickly and optimistically forward. We set up interviews with three different potential caregivers during the following week, to be conducted with both families simultaneously. We were riding high, feeling pleasantly surprised that things seemed to be moving so smoothly and we'd have care set up for Peanut by the end of the month. Then we had the first interview. In short - it was not cool. The caregiver had been recommended to the other family by a close friend, so they saw her through a lens of trust and familiarity. To us, she was a total stranger. While she clearly seemed to be comfortable with infants and was kind and approachable in her demeanor, we saw some big red flags. She described herself as a Seventh Day Adventist who would sing bible songs to soothe the babies. When we told her we were queer ("kind of like a gay couple" is how we explained it, I think) and didn't believe in gay people, but didn't think it was her place (it was God's place) to judge them. While she said she would respect our wishes (not to sing religious songs, for example), her answers to other questions demonstrated that this would not actually be the case. We communicated to the other family that we felt pretty strongly that this nanny was not a good fit for us.
They, on the other hand, felt very comfortable with her. We all went ahead and interviewed the two other candidates, but it was clear they had decided the first candidate was the best match for them. The tension built between our families for a few days. Were we now locked into an uncomfortable partnership? Were our needs just too different to make this work? Was this a sign of differences and disagreements to come down the road? Should we initiate a break-up?
S and I carried the anxiety and questions in our bellies for days. We talked and processed late into every night, barely able to sleep. We quickly learned that not only was working with another family very (and probably almost too) challenging for us given the care of our little one was at stake, but we weren't quite comfortable with a nanny arrangement at all. While we certainly know and trust there are many loving, amazing and nurturing paid caregivers in the world, we realized since we don't have a recommendation or personal experience with someone who would generally share our values and respect our family, we felt incredibly vulnerable and protective of Peanut.
We are proud of who we are, and we want Peanut to feel proud of herself and her family, too. We want her to know she is worthy of love and belonging, that she is a part of a family with a rich, beautiful and diverse history, that has a unique story to tell. We want her spirit to be cared for and nurtured by a caregiver with whom she can explore her own creativity and desires, whatever they may be. We are especially conscious that we want to find a caregiver who will respect her self-determination around gender identity and expression as she grows up.
The other family finally wrote us an email to say, very kindly and respectfully, that they didn't think the nanny share situation would work out. We were relieved and let them know we agreed. We were grateful, not only that we wouldn't ultimately be pressured to work with a caregiver that didn't feel right for us, but also that we were able to retain a good relationship with the other family despite our differences.
The experience ultimately was an unexpected but incredibly powerful test for us as parents. It helped us clarify our needs, where we will stretch, and where we will set boundaries for our family. It brought me and S closer together, and reminded us why we click and love one another. And taught us, very concretely, that we are going to have to be willing to fight for what we feel is right for Peanut. We are now beginning to explore other options for Peanut's care, hopefully with more clarity and assurance that we know where we stand and what she deserves.
Tuesday, May 14, 2013
Letter to Peanut at 4 Months
Dear little one,
It is remarkable to me that it has only been a month since I wrote your last letter. In that span of time, you have developed an incredible number of new skills, the most exciting of which is that you are now LAUGHING! Heartily, excitedly, and with some regular frequency. Sometimes Papa and I will be laughing about a joke (like this morning, when our kitty cat somehow figured out how to turn on the lamp by himself!) and I look down and realize you are laughing along with us. Your first laugh was with me, in response to me squealing "my baaaabyyyyy" to you in an increasingly high pitched voice. You since have loved when we blow raspberries on your belly, or when people lift you up and down with big smiles on their faces.
During the past month you:
This month featured a big transition in our lives. I returned to work full-time, and Papa began his parental leave and is now staying home with you until mid-July. I definitely felt some major sadness (and sleep deprivation since for the three nights prior, you barely slept) the first day I left you, but thanks to wonderful coworkers, I was welcomed back at my office with much support. It felt good to reconnect with the part of myself that is fulfilled by my job. And Papa was incredibly compassionate; he sent me lots of photos of you and made me feel like I was still a part of your day. Shockingly, when I returned home after work, I put you to bed and you slept through the night. Fully. From 9pm - 6am. With no waking to be held or fed. We couldn't believe it! Since then, you've continued to be a pretty solid sleeper. You'll still fuss, cry, and wake up several times between 8:30 and 11pm, but after that you sleep consistently until the morning.
The fact that I'm not home with you every day is made easier knowing you and Papa have three months of quality time (and warmer weather) together. I appreciate having a job I enjoy and because I do, I come home to you excited, energized, and wanting to make the most of our precious hours together. Still, I miss you and worry about what I'll miss during the 50 hours a week I'm not by your side. I hope someday we'll figure out a way to have more balance.
A few days ago we celebrated my first Mama's Day. It was a beautiful opportunity for me to reflect on our four months together. There are few ways for me to explain and describe how good it feels to play with you, cuddle you, and hold you in my arms. You have expanded my heart. I feel so lucky, so grateful, so blessed that after so many months and years of dreaming of you, you are finally here.
With love,
Your Mama
It is remarkable to me that it has only been a month since I wrote your last letter. In that span of time, you have developed an incredible number of new skills, the most exciting of which is that you are now LAUGHING! Heartily, excitedly, and with some regular frequency. Sometimes Papa and I will be laughing about a joke (like this morning, when our kitty cat somehow figured out how to turn on the lamp by himself!) and I look down and realize you are laughing along with us. Your first laugh was with me, in response to me squealing "my baaaabyyyyy" to you in an increasingly high pitched voice. You since have loved when we blow raspberries on your belly, or when people lift you up and down with big smiles on their faces.
During the past month you:
- Learned to roll to one side (usually from right to left)
- Grasped things and held onto them for a while (it's amazing watching you hold on to your pacifier, pull it out of your mouth, and then attempt to get it back in your mouth. You can't usually do it, but you make a good effort!)
- Put toys in your mouth (typically by moving your head toward the toy with your mouth wide open)
- Grew out of newborn sized clothing and Size 1 diapers
- Woke up! You suddenly became an energized, awake, observant and active infant. You continued to be a pretty relaxed and happy baby, even though you...
- ...began to exhibit some stranger anxiety. Now when an unfamiliar person picks you up, you stare at them, give them a huge, sad pout, and start wailing!
This month featured a big transition in our lives. I returned to work full-time, and Papa began his parental leave and is now staying home with you until mid-July. I definitely felt some major sadness (and sleep deprivation since for the three nights prior, you barely slept) the first day I left you, but thanks to wonderful coworkers, I was welcomed back at my office with much support. It felt good to reconnect with the part of myself that is fulfilled by my job. And Papa was incredibly compassionate; he sent me lots of photos of you and made me feel like I was still a part of your day. Shockingly, when I returned home after work, I put you to bed and you slept through the night. Fully. From 9pm - 6am. With no waking to be held or fed. We couldn't believe it! Since then, you've continued to be a pretty solid sleeper. You'll still fuss, cry, and wake up several times between 8:30 and 11pm, but after that you sleep consistently until the morning.
The fact that I'm not home with you every day is made easier knowing you and Papa have three months of quality time (and warmer weather) together. I appreciate having a job I enjoy and because I do, I come home to you excited, energized, and wanting to make the most of our precious hours together. Still, I miss you and worry about what I'll miss during the 50 hours a week I'm not by your side. I hope someday we'll figure out a way to have more balance.
A few days ago we celebrated my first Mama's Day. It was a beautiful opportunity for me to reflect on our four months together. There are few ways for me to explain and describe how good it feels to play with you, cuddle you, and hold you in my arms. You have expanded my heart. I feel so lucky, so grateful, so blessed that after so many months and years of dreaming of you, you are finally here.
With love,
Your Mama
Sunday, April 14, 2013
Letter to Peanut at 3 Months
Dear Peanut,
Today marks the end of your "fourth trimester," those precious first few months as you adjust to life outside the womb. You're no longer a tiny, sleepy newborn. When I look at you, I see a rapidly growing, bright, alert kid, intent on taking in and observing the world.
During your waking hours, you keep your eyes open wide and are very focused on looking at everything within view; the frames on the walls, the toys in your crib, the cats on the couch, the stores and people in the neighborhood. You crane your head back as far as you can to see what's above and behind you. Your curiosity thrills and fascinates me. You are holding your head up well (though tummy time still makes you grumpy), babbling and cooing, and kicking your legs while you're on your back. You can lift your legs up to a 90 degree angle - and you do, often.
You are now - tah dah! - mostly sleeping through the night, typically from 11:30pm - 7:00am. What a difference a big chunk of sleep makes for us all! Papa and I feel more well-rested, and you, too, seem to wake up smiling wider and feeling calmer than before. We're no longer swaddling you since you seem to prefer your arms wild and flailing freely :) You're also crying less and smiling more these days. Papa and I spend many hours trying to make you laugh. And you're allllmost there. You can anticipate certain games and start smiling wide before we even get to the "punchline" (high squealing voice, tickling, kisses). I'm so excited to hear your first real giggle. You're showing signs of recognizing me and Papa more. Sometimes when other people hold you, you look out to us both. Sometimes your lower lip sticks out, and sometimes you cry until we are holding you again. Papa says it's a good sign you are securely attached. It makes me feel good to know you feel comfort and safety with us.
This past month, we spent two weeks at Nani and Nana's house again. They loved having such a big chunk of time with you. During my birthday weekend, they took you out so Papa and I could go on a date. I cried when you left - it was the longest time we had been apart since you were born - six hours. But you were fine, and Papa and I enjoyed dinner and a movie together (though we talked about you the whole time). We also took you to my office this month and you had a chance to meet my boss and colleagues, all of whom were so eager to see you. You and I also spent our first day in the park together last week when it was a blissful eighty degrees. You seemed to enjoy the fresh air and spent long hours observing the trees and grass.
Peanut, next week I will be going back to work full time. Papa will be starting his parental leave and spending the next three months with you. I am looking forward to being back at the office again; I enjoy my work and colleagues, and miss that part of my life. I'm looking forward to the routine and structure of my work days. At the same time, I am feeling sadness, guilt, anxiety, and grief about leaving you. We may never have this kind of uninterrupted time together again. I am worried and anxious about breastfeeding you less often. I will miss cuddling you, talking with you, and playing with you throughout the day. I am sad about missing the little things, and scared about missing the big things. I wonder how the changes will affect you, and I feel guilty about having to put you through such a big transition at such a young age.
I know Papa is super excited to get to know you better and to enjoy taking you out during the sunny, warm spring and summer days. It will be a big change for us all, and we will all learn new skills and develop new tools in the process. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to one more sweet week together.
Love,
Your Mama
Today marks the end of your "fourth trimester," those precious first few months as you adjust to life outside the womb. You're no longer a tiny, sleepy newborn. When I look at you, I see a rapidly growing, bright, alert kid, intent on taking in and observing the world.
During your waking hours, you keep your eyes open wide and are very focused on looking at everything within view; the frames on the walls, the toys in your crib, the cats on the couch, the stores and people in the neighborhood. You crane your head back as far as you can to see what's above and behind you. Your curiosity thrills and fascinates me. You are holding your head up well (though tummy time still makes you grumpy), babbling and cooing, and kicking your legs while you're on your back. You can lift your legs up to a 90 degree angle - and you do, often.
You are now - tah dah! - mostly sleeping through the night, typically from 11:30pm - 7:00am. What a difference a big chunk of sleep makes for us all! Papa and I feel more well-rested, and you, too, seem to wake up smiling wider and feeling calmer than before. We're no longer swaddling you since you seem to prefer your arms wild and flailing freely :) You're also crying less and smiling more these days. Papa and I spend many hours trying to make you laugh. And you're allllmost there. You can anticipate certain games and start smiling wide before we even get to the "punchline" (high squealing voice, tickling, kisses). I'm so excited to hear your first real giggle. You're showing signs of recognizing me and Papa more. Sometimes when other people hold you, you look out to us both. Sometimes your lower lip sticks out, and sometimes you cry until we are holding you again. Papa says it's a good sign you are securely attached. It makes me feel good to know you feel comfort and safety with us.
This past month, we spent two weeks at Nani and Nana's house again. They loved having such a big chunk of time with you. During my birthday weekend, they took you out so Papa and I could go on a date. I cried when you left - it was the longest time we had been apart since you were born - six hours. But you were fine, and Papa and I enjoyed dinner and a movie together (though we talked about you the whole time). We also took you to my office this month and you had a chance to meet my boss and colleagues, all of whom were so eager to see you. You and I also spent our first day in the park together last week when it was a blissful eighty degrees. You seemed to enjoy the fresh air and spent long hours observing the trees and grass.
Peanut, next week I will be going back to work full time. Papa will be starting his parental leave and spending the next three months with you. I am looking forward to being back at the office again; I enjoy my work and colleagues, and miss that part of my life. I'm looking forward to the routine and structure of my work days. At the same time, I am feeling sadness, guilt, anxiety, and grief about leaving you. We may never have this kind of uninterrupted time together again. I am worried and anxious about breastfeeding you less often. I will miss cuddling you, talking with you, and playing with you throughout the day. I am sad about missing the little things, and scared about missing the big things. I wonder how the changes will affect you, and I feel guilty about having to put you through such a big transition at such a young age.
I know Papa is super excited to get to know you better and to enjoy taking you out during the sunny, warm spring and summer days. It will be a big change for us all, and we will all learn new skills and develop new tools in the process. In the meantime, I'm looking forward to one more sweet week together.
Love,
Your Mama
Friday, April 5, 2013
Windows of Opportunity
While I was pregnant, S read some article somewhere about how during the first few unpredictable months of life with a newborn, it's important to take advantage of "windows of opportunity" - those few minutes or hours here or there throughout the day when you can do something besides care for your infant. I didn't realize how much I'd grow to anticipate these windows - or how I'd actually be using them.
I remember laughing with friends during my pregnancy about how new parents complained about not being able to take a shower. "How was that possible?" we joked. "Can't you shower while your baby is napping?"
Ha. Now I know better. Napping windows with Peanut can be as short as three minutes (very often) or as long as three hours (very rarely), but there's no way to anticipate the duration when they begin. As soon as they do, though, I'm usually off like a lightning bolt, rushing to do one of the following mundane activities:
I remember laughing with friends during my pregnancy about how new parents complained about not being able to take a shower. "How was that possible?" we joked. "Can't you shower while your baby is napping?"
Ha. Now I know better. Napping windows with Peanut can be as short as three minutes (very often) or as long as three hours (very rarely), but there's no way to anticipate the duration when they begin. As soon as they do, though, I'm usually off like a lightning bolt, rushing to do one of the following mundane activities:
- Brush my teeth
- Use the bathroom
- Take a 2 minute long shower
- Eat
- Wash a dish or two
- Open the mail and think, "oh, I should pay those bills."
- Pay those bills
- Put away the clothes that have been sitting in the laundry bag for over a week
- Catch up on
Facebookemails - Pump my still annoyingly finicky breasts
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