Great Expectation

You are your own girl. (E @ 10 months)

Dear Elise,

It has been a crazy month for all of us as we settle into the new fall routine with your sister back at Montessori School and travel through (until the holidays). Writing these newsletters has become just one more thing on my to-do list that never seems to get done. Here we are, already at nearly 10 ½ months!

I did, however, write a list of all things that you have enchanted us with these last few weeks. You are STILL not sleeping through the night, you little piglet. I nurse you to sleep at approx. 8p and “top you off” again at around 11 before I go to sleep. You STILL wake up at least once, anywhere between 2 and 4a. What is UP with that? Quit it! You are fat enough. My theory is that you like to snuggle and that your teeth are really hurting you. After months of just the two front bottom teeth, your top two front teeth finally poked through last Monday.

You are SO different from Hannah. You make a beeline for things that she largely ignored, dangerous things like outlets and nasty toilet brushes. You are fearless about falling off of and into things. With Hannah we barely had to childproof the house. With you, we have to childproof even other people’s houses. I can only say, thank goodness our current home has no stairs…

Here is my list:

• We love how you wrinkle your nose while inhaling and exhaling – a kind of snorting. It is so funny, and you always have a mischievous smile on your face as you do it. This started to happen during a recent cold as you tried to rid yourself of an annoying booger in there.
• Your super-speedy crawl: when you really get moving, your right leg sort of straightens in this hobbling, awkward-looking motion, but it is a sign that you are in a hurry to grab something within sight.
• Your bright blue eyes the color of denim, and your “dark blond” hair, which is starting to thicken, especially in the back. There are subtle curls that flip up near your ears.
• Your careful, delicate fingers practice your ever-more-accurate pincer grasp to grab food or small bits of things from our floor that likely should not be in your mouth… This skill is helping you with a skill you have always craved, and that is to feed yourself.
• Your sheer strength. Just like with your sister, changing your clothes or diapers is like changing a wild badger. You seem wildest with a really full, soiled diaper. If I use the changing table, you grip the round, Jenny Lind railing and use it as you stiffen your body into a plank and try to flip yourself. I keep a firm and desperate hold on your feet to prevent this flip as I try to clean your poopy butt and you holler at your frustration in this. I am sure if someone were watching, they would say you look like a trained gymnast, your body prone, hovering above the obscene diaper below.
• Your adorable clapping with those precise and precious hands. Pat-a-cake was the only “game” you really like. The whole “how big is Elise?” with the correct response being to throw your in the air is entertaining for you to watch as we try to coax you into it, but you have yet to reciprocate. You at least smile smugly at our show. 
• Your response to any semblance of rhythm. When you hear music or one of my many strange rhymes, you MOVE. You love music and it trumps any other sort of distraction you may be facing. 
• Your love for Hannah: when Hannah awakes or arrives home from school, I am NO ONE. The two of you play so well, even at your young age, together in her room. Papa and I love the fact that neither of you will ever remember a time without the other.

The biggest lesson for us: you are your own girl. You are the yang to your sister’s ying, both in appearance and personality. Everything we thought we knew about raising babies through our experience with Hannah has been modified or tossed out. We have an exciting time ahead of us, both challenging and wonderful, and I cannot imagine our family without you.

Love, Mama

SAHMotherhood

I am currently working in the hardest job I have ever had for no monetary compensation. It is 24/7, extremely demanding while at the same time often mind-numbingly dull. It allows me to be with our young daughters, but I feel I seldom truly get to BE with them. This is my fault, and it has come about because I have worked, and worked hard, in many other jobs that are “results-driven” on a daily, weekly, monthly basis. This job has forced me to redefine “results,” and I am failing miserably at that. I just cannot wrap my head around calling a day successful unless I got to cross things off this ridiculously long to-do list. A to-do list, I might add, that is even remotely impossible to accomplish with children anywhere near me, let alone on my lap or crawling up my legs.

I am in the process of carving out some space and time for myself as I consider my own next career move, wanting to work just part-time while our girls are still so young. I crave uninterrupted adult discourse, speaking in full-length sentences about grown-up things for an extended period of time.

While I am extremely “high-energy” (or so people tell me), this is not around-the-clock energy. Therefore, I cannot be a full-time mother all day and then “moonlight” in some creative capacity working from home. Once I get the girls fed (for the 5th+ time in a day), bathed and in bed, I am wrecked. Exhausted. Done. I will be working to get up early to tap my morning energies, which are usually vast, but Baby #2 is on the downward slide into her first birthday and STILL does not sleep through the night…

I will admit this post is also coming at a point where I am wondering just how and when to reenter the workforce. And when you live all day alone inside your head, you start to grow doubt and irrational fears about your own abilities and worth. Have never HAD to give up my newest baby to daycare, I wish I could. But I know that when I finally do, I will be wrought with guilt and self-loathing for a time, until I see how much good it is doing her and me. And a happier mama is a better mama.

Bad mom?

Inspired by dig this chick, I will tell you about my own guilt. Not only has E fallen off H’s bed a few times, I feel she is generally neglected because of her considerably larger, more verbal and demanding sister. Today I left a screaming H with the fitness center childcare in order to selfishly swim a few laps. And then lay in the sun 10 minutes following (in total, a 25 minute absence). I know H is now old enough to handle this. I also know she will likely give up the fight 2 minutes after I leave (which she did), but I still feel like crap. Like I am planting the seeds of the psychosis that will cause her to pay lots for therapy someday. I blame Dr. Sears for some of this. But that’s another post.

I am constantly thinking about how to enrich their young lives and bring out their greatest potential while not completing giving up myself (and therefore becoming miserable) in the process. How much do I need to “entertain/play/interact” with each of them each day? How much can I expect them to play on their own? What did our mothers do with us?

And then, of course, you hear the stories that Child Protective Services deals with each day: neglect, physical and verbal abuse, malnutrition. I remembering being profoundly affected upon learning about all the rotten toddler teeth in Appalachia because of parents putting Mountain Dew (!) in their children’s bottles. While I agonize about how to sneak more vegetables into their diet.

I managed the rare magic of simultaneous naps this afternoon. And I have some other work (as most of you tend to define it: for grown-ups, demanding monetary compensation), but I am instead online reading, connecting and reflecting on motherhood. And feel guilty about that now, too.

What would Momo think?

Whenever I consider buying toys for our girls, I think about the following passage from Michael Ende’s book, Momo (this is the same guy who wrote The Neverending Story). I am deeply affected by this book, but this passage holds an incredibly practical wisdom for the world in which we live.

Immer häufiger kam es vor, daß Kinder allerlei Spielzeug brachten, mit dem man nicht wirklich spielen konnte, […] Es waren natürlich sehr teure Spielsachen, wie Momos Freunde nie welche besessen hatten - und Momo selbst gar nicht. Vor allem waren alle diese Dinge so vollkommen bis in jede kleinste Einzelheit hinein, daß man sich dabei gar nichts mehr selber vorzustellen brauchte. […] Darum kehrten sie schließlich doch wieder zu ihren alten Spielen zurück, bei denen ihnen ein paar Schachteln, ein zerrissenes Tischtuch, ein Maulwurfshügel oder eine Handvoll Steinchen genügten. Dabei konnte man sich alles vorstellen.

(My translation: Increasingly, children brought all sorts of toys, with which one could not really play. They were of course very expensive toys, the likes of which Momo’s friends - and of course Momo herself - had never owned. Most remarkable about these toys was the fact that they were so complete, down to the very last detail, that there was nothing left to imagine. Therefore [the children] always went back to their old games, for which a couple of old boxes, a ripped dish cloth, a mole hill or a handful of stones were enough. With those things you could imagine anything.)

Elise: Open Letter @ 4 months

Dear Elise,

Finally I am sitting down to get this written for you and Hannah this warm, dark, rainy afternoon in New Orleans. You are both fast asleep. Hannah fought me, as she always does at nap time. She then woke you, and you would not go back down until I fulfilled our ritual of nursing you to sleep on my bed and staying the obligatory 20+ minutes. Today I did not sleep, but usually this causes me to take an hour nap. You are trying to make me take care of myself. I get it.

You are making your presence known in the most beautiful way possible. You smile and coo and shine your beautiful blue eyes on anyone whose face you can see. You love those faces. And mine is your favorite. Everyone talks about what a gorgeous baby you are. You truly are the sweetest thing. You are so fair-skinned and light compared to your sister. Two VERY different girls, beginning as two very different babies.

We traveled to Nebraska alone at the end of March when you turned “3 months” old for my Grandma Marty’s funeral, your Great Grandma. You were never alive to meet either of your Great Grandpa’s, although you were in my tummy as we said good-bye to Grandpa Harold.

This trip flying alone with you was expensive, but it was nice to be alone with you! It was also nice to introduce you to the family without your sister dancing around my ankles. (She is awfully demanding right now.)

We flew again together over Easter, this time with Hannah. This was our “practice trip” since we are planning to fly, just we girls, to Germany alone this June. We will fly back with Papa. The flight to Nebraska went well. You were easy, as usual, but Hannah was more of a challenge, as was navigating the airport and boarding with both of you. But we managed. I was very strategic and got many compliments from those who saw us. Ha! On the trip back, Grampa Dave reminded me to not forget you somewhere because you are so amiable and quiet. It is true that you only hollar when things are REALLY bad: you need to eat, get the poop out of your pants or finally go to sleep. You are just an easy baby.

While in Nebraska you got very good and thumb-sucking. You are finally coordinated enough to get that thumb where you want it. It has been fun to observe your determination.

Just as you turned 4 months old you rolled over for the first time, from your back to your belly. Then you get mad because you don’t like it on your belly. There is far to little tummy-time for you. I also never get to snuggle with you laying on my chest because you just don’t like that position. Your sister loved it, as did I.

At night you go to sleep around the same time as your sister, 8 – 8:30. BUT, unlike your sister, you stay in bed and don’t play any games. I have been nursing you before I go to bed around 23:00 but skipped that last night and it made no difference. You did not wake up any earlier. Normally I hear you moan a bit between 3 and 4 am (stretching from 2 to 3), but last night you were still fast asleep when my own internal clock woke me. I took you out of your crib and fed you since I was already awake, but you may have slept through the night. But my full boobs make me miserable, and I like that time with one another, especially since it is just once.

Many of my new-mom-friends are “sleep training” or having a hard time with their “nighttime parenting.” I can say with you and your sister that has never been much of a problem (more so with Hannah since you arrived.) Jens and I ask ourselves if your sleep habits are so good because of our parenting or because you were just born easy. We will never know but I am still thrilled it is this way. Thanks, Elise!

I am not sure what I am going to do with you as you become more mobile. This will mean no more bouncy seat up on the counter (with you strapped in) as I cook. It will also mean an end to our naps together, or at least me having to relocate you to your crib, hoping you accept the transfer without waking too much. We were so eager for Hannah to hit each milestone, but with you, I want to savor your babyhood a bit more. It truly does just fly by.

Love,
Mama

Elise’s Birth Story (1st Open Letter @ 12 weeks)

Dear Elise,

You came into the world on a weekend of record rain in New Orleans. The wettest month on record, in a city that was still rebuilding after hurricane Katrina. The night before I had been with your aunt Holly getting pedicures when the little Asian place flooded through the back door as we finished up. I nearly couldn’t get the half mile back to our house because of the street flooding and Papa thought we were going to have water coming in our back doors. Our doula and friend, Addy, called to ask if we could pick her up on our way to the hospital if tonight was the night. But we did not get any water in the house that night, nor did we have a new baby to greet. That entire weekend I had contractions every 30 – 60 minutes. Early Sunday morning when they were 13 minutes apart, we called our friend Susanne to watch Hannah, but by the time she got to our house, everything had stopped again and she eventually went home.

Holly wanted to be a part of the birth, but she was scheduled to leave at 7 am the next morning (Monday). On Sunday we had resigned ourselves to the fact that she would not be meeting you this trip. I had tried everything all weekend. Raspberry Leaf tea. Walking, walking, walking. Eating spicy food. But nothing seemed to be happening.

At 4 pm we picked up Gramma Connie from the airport (you still in my belly), Hannah, and Holly. We drove back to our house and decided to go out for pizza. After that we had ice cream at the Creole Creamery. I had two giant scoops. Somehow the pizza and ice cream never tasted so good.

We came home and got Hannah to bed. As I was tucking her in and reading her a story, my water broke. It was nothing dramatic, but I knew the feeling because I had felt it for a full week before your sister was born, a week I had spent in the hospital. Your head, which was likely serving as a stopper, shifted as I laid next to Hannah. So this was it. I called Addy and she said to take our time but be headed to the hospital within the hour. She would meet us there. The rain had thankfully abated.

It is good that we didn’t take too much time because things really started moving. By the time Papa, Holly and I were headed down the road, contractions were just 2 -3 minutes apart. We got the hospital about 10 pm and I walked in, forced to wait as Holly and Jens were IDed at security. I walked all the way to labor and delivery. They got us a room and were impressed that they did not need to summon anyone else except to alert my OB/GYN, Dr. Hope Ruhe. Her name means “(hope,) peace and calm” in German, something I took as an omen in choosing her. Addy joined us and my body set to work pushing you out.

The labor this time was intense. Your sister was born early in the morning after a somewhat restful night. You decided to come out in the evening after a full and eventful day. I was tired, and I was therefore somewhat frightened of the missing energy needed for the events to come. I could ease into the pain slowly over 7 hours with your sister.

One of the first contractions after being assessed in the hospital blew me over, and I somehow knew instinctively that I was going to have to save up some strength to get through this. I “rested” between each contraction, and I did it throughout the entire labor, even though that “rest” only consisted of minutes, seconds. I completely detached and was able to “escape” the room and almost sleep. I knew I had to go somewhere to prepare for the next wave of pain, and I did. I slept! Addy, Jens and Holly describe me “twitching” as if I were asleep and dreaming. Kind of crazy. Addy kept me with the process by occasionally making me switch positions, which I hated because each switch was followed by an intensely painful contraction. But she knew this was the only way to keep things moving.

Early in the labor I threw up all that pizza and ice cream I had gorged myself on. And then I puked some more. And some more. Papa is still impressed by the sheer volume of my stomach contents that night! I filled a number of these special round hospital puke sacks that Addy or Holly kept handing me. At some point I communicated that I wanted to go to the bathroom. Holly and Jens joined me and I labored for a time while sitting on the toilet. Once I got there, it felt good. And sitting upright was all it took. Minutes later I could feel the sensation of pushing and knew from last time that this was it.

Addy called the nurse. Dr. Ruhe was on her way. They quickly got me back to the bed. They called in a resident in case Dr. Ruhe couldn’t make it. I couldn’t believe we had gotten this far already. With Hannah it took so long, but with you they said I could give in and push any time. But I wanted Dr. Ruhe! But trying to resist that urge that comes on so strong with each new contraction is next to impossible. I would give in and push for half of it and then hold back the second half. Where was Dr. Ruhe? Slowed down by street flooding!

She finally arrived, barely got her hands washed and caught you. It took 3 contractions to push you out, and I remember not getting it done with the second, during which your head was halfway out. OUCH. And then, you were out. And you were a girl. “It’s a GIRL?” I exclaimed. Tears were running down Jens’ face. Holly was weeping with joy. It’s a girl. Another beautiful daughter. A sister for Hannah.

The fog of labor pain lifted as you were placed on my chest. Dr. Ruhe set about delivering the placenta which came out without a hitch. For Holly, I now have “rock star” status after delivering you (and your sister) without pain meds. She likes to tell people that she watched me go through that entire delivery and that the only time I truly winced was when Dr. Ruhe poked me with a needle to apply the local anesthetic before sewing the stitches. That DID hurt.

We were moved to the post-partum room while they cleaned you up and ran the usual tests. Papa slept next to me in the hospital bed while Tante Holly stretched out on the pull-out chair. We awoke to get Holly to the airport and Papa home to pick up Gramma and Hannah. Soon they brought you in to me and we had lots of time alone together. We spent your first full night on earth alone together in the hospital. It continued to rain outside and we were quiet together. The next morning we were discharged at my request and picked up your sister from her Montessori school on the way home to begin our life as a family of four.

The last 12 weeks have been crazy. Gramma and Grampa spent Christmas here with us. They left us to celebrate New Year’s on our own. Then most of January Oma and Opa visited from Germany. The visiting parents were an immense help, but we were glad when they were gone and we could get into our new routines as a nuclear family.

Your first month you ate EVERY TWO HOURS. This was ROUGH. I would be happy when it was actually THREE. Now it is about every three during the day and one five hour stretch at night, unfortunately from about 8:30 – 1:30. I wish this were instead midnight – 5:00 but I will take it.

The biggest challenge in your young life you mastered wonderfully: you contracted RSV/bronchiolitus from your sister and were a very sick, wheezing baby for 2+ weeks. In fact, on Opa and Oma’s final night in the US, we left them at home with Hannah to take you to the ER at Children’s Hospital. You were fortunately not admitted but rather given breathing treatments of nebulized Albuterol (as we had been giving Hannah the past 7 days) and sent home with us. This is a rough break for a 6 week old, but you did really well. You lost just half a pound and have since regained that 5-fold. You are now officially a little chubba. This illness did, however, cost Mama a few years off her life. Sick children are the worst. I would rather have all those sicknesses for you to spare you that suffering. Your coughing would lead you to choke and I would hold my breath waiting for you to FINALLY take your own next breath, which you would FINALLY do, followed by a screaming cry. And I was terrified to sleep for fear of your not breathing. Glad we are all done with THAT.

After you KICKED that illness, you really blossomed. The fourth trimester of this tiny, helpless thing seemed to end, replaced by this round, pink, blue-eyed baby girl that smiles when she sees my face –and Papa’s and Hannah’s too.

One of the highlights of these past weeks was when Hannah, without any prompting, seeing you in your bouncy seat on our bedroom floor as I got ready for the day, ran back to her room to get a book which she proceeded to read to you. You beamed at her in pure fascination. Sisters. I am so glad you are sisters. It is so exciting watching you grow together.

Love,
Mama

Offshore

The title of this post could also describe my own location since the birth of Elise and provide an excuse for not posting in over 3 months.

Elise Marie was born December 14, 2009 and is doing BRILLIANTLY. I will be posting her birth story soon, but I have not written anything after doubling the number of children we have. And again, Facebook has distracted me.

Jens has been offshore for his first long stint. Today makes eight days, but the girls and I are anything but alone in this city. We have amazing friends who have taken great care of us, providing me with the necessary adult conversation I have needed for survival. Many of these new friends are also parents of youngsters that enjoy Hannah’s company.

Today while gearing up Hannah for her nap, I said, “Guess who’ll be here after you sleep?” She lit up and shouted, “Papa!” My heart broke. Not yet, little one, but soon. He misses his girls and we miss him.