Tales from the baby front

So the only way for me to write this is with baby cradled (safely) on my lap. Since I last wrote, the nursing has become easier though not without little difficulties. I have to say I'm glad I stuck it out after such a rocky start though. At the beginning I was pumping in the hospital and she was given the milk in a little cup or bottle (and you can see my favorite midwife feeding her way back when). Now we can do it without all those unnecessary steps!

As for the night battles, well, sometimes she wakes me for a brief (hour) feeding, or like last night, 2 and 1/2 hours of wakefullness. Hmm. I'm praying for the day she sleeps through the night. In the meantime I'm sleepy in the day. When she finally settles for some napping herself I must prioritize and do the following: eat, sleep, bathe, email, whatever I haven't been able to do while she was awake. Housework is still low on the priority list. Or I put her in her crib even if she's fussy and do microtasks. Clean the sink, load the washer. The apartment is still far from clean. But as my auntie said, a happy baby is more important than a clean house.

Here in France the kids are starting to go back to school. It always makes me feel nostalgic for my own school days and that fall feeling in the air. This year there's no school or work right away, though my own return to work will be in about six weeks. I'm already feeling rather torn between finding my old independent self and being a full-time mom. Financially I must go back, and I know baby will have a good, state-approved sitter. But I've already found myself getting teary about it. Separation anxiety on my side.

Chat-chat continues to be his pesty self. Sometimes a bit too curious about the stroller as you can see here. No babies were harmed in the taking of this picture. He doesn't know how close he's come to being abandoned when he decides to jump on the door handle at 4:30 a.m. and I've just gotten bb to sleep! Or his continual obsession with peeing in the tub. Sometimes I swear he looks at me when baby's crying and says, are you sure you wanted that thing? My husband tries to spend some time cuddling him so he won't feel left out.

Well, who knows when I'll be able to post again. I'll let baby sign off for me.

The new insomnia

Have got a video of baby I added but it took forever to load being an AVI format. Does anybody know how to reduce the size of videos? And with what software? Listen carefully for the sound of chimes, Chat-chat's bell and the ambulance siren.

Still basically no time for anything here in my new role as mommy. I sacrifice my sleep during her nap times to run errands that I can't avoid. She has that annoying (but of course we love you, baby) habit of waking up when we put her in her crib, despite seeming passed out to the world seconds before. The baby sling is coming in handy to lull her to sleep while I go about some of my normal household activities. No heavy duty things though. I can actually put my contacts in while she's in the sling. Get some stuff out of the fridge.


The other night she kept me (and my husband for part of the time) awake for nearly 3 hours. During the wonderful hours between 2 to 5. It'd be different if she'd just feed and sleep. But it's continual feeding or stop and start or I don't know what. I still don't speak Baby so I haven't finetuned her needs. Last night she was polite enough to wait till about 5 to do this. Husband has the bright idea now to go sleep on the couch when she has that wee hour waking. What a guy. He has given a bottle or two, to his credit, plus help with chores, etc. Yes, you see, since the lactation nurse saw the baby wasn't gaining and might have lost at one point, she instructed us to give her some formula. Later my pediatrician said he didn't like this idea as that wasn't going to increase my milk supply if ever that was the problem. Now she's back on mother's milk, some of which I pump to give her a boost at strategic times like midnight (so she'll maybe sleep till 3 or 4). Nursing is proving to be complicated for something that's supposed to be super natural and easy.

I complain, but I'm sure all new moms do. There are times when she's really cute and alert like in this video. And of course we're so happy to have her. We're just adjusting. And that's never been one of my strong points. I knew babies were a lot of work, especially at the beginning. I just figured there would be more times where I could really do other things. There are some times, but with her not sleeping well in the crib, I must carry her around and can't very well sleep in those times. Don't even get me started on housework. The scumminess of my floors is really starting to get to me. And I was never the cleanest person, but I do like a minimum. I can't very well do the dishes and risk getting hot water on the baby in her sling.

Oh, yes, so that paragraph was supposed to be positive. Hmm, she really is a cutie, and we like to play with her, as much as you can play with a four-week old. Still not sure who she looks like. Or what color her hair will really be. All that will come later. Something to look forward to.

She's here!

Baby is sleeping after her last feeding. Husband too since he kindly stayed wakeful to coax baby girl into feeding well (kind of sort of worked) and also to watch the impressive thunderstorm. It's still rumbling lightly but I chanced it to tend to my abandoned blog.

So as most of you know baby arrived July 22. About 6 pounds and 6 ounces. She's still a tiny thing and in fact hasn't regained her birth weight (they often lose 10% those first days). It being a C-section for me and her being a light weight made nursing difficult at the beginning. Plus it's all new to me. Little darling is perhaps a bit lazy (like her mom) in really getting down to business. There were some times when they gave her my milk or formula in a bottle at the hospital so she might be craving the easy life of the artificial nipple. I try not to project too much frustration on her, but when she "plays" 30 minutes to an hour before really feeding, I can get a bit frazzled. When she really feeds and then sleeps hard afterwards, I feel ok. We're still getting there.

Chat-chat seems to be adjusting fairly well to not being baby # 1 anymore. There were some moments when he sniffed frantically on the couch. He's mostly playing the indifference card. He's still mellower since his balcony jump. Perhaps it did him some good...

Mom and sis and hubby have been ever so helpful around the house and at mealtimes. I've hardly had to lift a finger, which is good since I can't really lift anything with this dang C-section recovery. Not even the cat. I wasn't disappointed when my OB/GYN told me she was going to "get the baby" for me, maybe the lazy part of me was a little happy I wasn't going to be pushing away. But I didn't realize how painful the day after would be and that there would be so many precautions to take for weeks to come. Again, that's why my family has been a real godsend.

Well, when baby gives me time to blog again, I will relate more exciting details to you.

How do you say "sharp pain" in French?

Douleur aiguë (roughly pronounced "doo-lurr ay-goo"). Of course when I called the midwife station Saturday after experiencing just that on my left side, my French abilities kind of went out the window and I said douleur aiguille ("ay-gwee"), which would translate as needle pain. Hey, same difference. It did feel like a needle. The doc or midwife on call seemed to understand anyway. His advice: take a bath and your anti-spasm medicine and wait two hours to see if it's better. And it did seem to get a bit better.

So, I'm still hanging out in the apartment, occasionally trying to find just the right position to avoid this sharp pain which comes and goes. According to the baby books, could be that baby is moving down (does seem that way) and pressing on a nerve (thanks, baby). I told her she needs to make up her mind and get things moving or just calm down. Give poor mom a rest!

Because of said sharp pain, my husband and I didn't go to the restaurant yesterday as had been planned for a few weeks with his parents and grandad. Not twenty minutes after I called him at the greenhouse to ask him to come home early the other day, his mom called back to see if were still on for the "resto". "Er, not really sure how things are gonna go," I said, "but please don't cancel on my behalf. You can go ahead without me." They don't have/take many occasions in the year to go out to eat, and I don't want them holding a "missed" opportunity over my head. The prospect of sitting in a fairly rigid chair for three to four hours (French meal standard), leisurely waiting for each course and discussing our dismal summer weather wasn't very appealing with this pain looming over me.

So the husband and I stayed in the apartment and watched the least annoying stuff we could find on TV, dozing off from time to time when it got too boring. And he sweetly prepared all the meals since sometimes standing in the kitchen was too much for me. He has been a very supportive guy lately, saying in a fairly convincing way that I look nice in my maternity clothes and with these chipmunk cheeks on my face. Maybe my family has paid him to say that! Plus he's gonna do the food shopping today since I don't feel like driving about. No doubt he'll go wild in the paté/cheese section, but at least I won't have to deal with loading and unloading the cart and the crowds. To be continued...

Ups and downs

Yesterday I thought I might be losing a little fluid (as in amniotic), so I went to the midwife station at the hospital to be checked out. Apparently I wasn’t the only jittery pregnant woman as there were several other ladies who’d come in without appointments. So I waited patiently and read the book I’d luckily brought along (The Devil Wears Prada, deliciously detailed). The waiting room is right in front of the obstetrical ward and as I sat there I saw them wheel a clean bed through the swinging doors. A few minutes later a fairly tired-looking lady was wheeled out on the same bed. No doubt she’d just given birth. I didn’t want to stare but I couldn’t help wondering what she’d just gone through. Shortly after a nurse brought in one of those rolling plastic baby beds and then emerged with the same bed filled with a blue bundle. I could see his little fists agitating about and he gave out a few cries. A really brand new baby, probably the one who’d tired out that poor lady. A little girl who was waiting with her pregnant mom couldn’t keep her eyes off that new baby either, probably imagining her own future sibling.

I finally saw the midwife who did all the routine tests and decided it was nothing to worry about this time. At the end of the exam she put the small Doppler device on to listen to the baby’s heartbeat. Nice and strong. I have to admit I am not as awed now to hear it as the first time. I remember reading about this in the baby book I bought my husband. The first ultrasound is amazing, the latter ones we’re almost jaded and more impatient to see the real thing. It’s not that I’ve forgotten how lucky I am to be in this situation, but there are always moments when we almost take things for granted. I’m sure that in a few years time (or earlier), baby girl will be whining or pulling a tantrum because I don’t want to buy her Kinder chocolate and I’ll wish I could put her back where she came from.

In fact it’s just like everything in life, love included. At the beginning you’re ecstatic to hold your boyfriend’s hand, this boy you secretly pined away for. His eyes are endless pools of blue and could only hold tenderness for you. Fast-forward to a couple of years (or just months!) of living together and you’re wondering why he can’t bend over to pick up his dirty socks that you, in your feminist move of the day, will NOT touch because they’ve been there for days, and, well, you get the picture. We always end up taking things for granted at one point or another.

And then there’s the cat. This time last week I thought Chat-chat was on his death bed. I was praying for him to just get up the strength to eat by himself again. Now I’m threatening to kill him. And I might have good reason. About a month ago my husband and I thought we were so clever to have devised a night-time plan for kitty. To prevent him from jumping on our door handle at four a.m. we lock him in the living room with his litter box at night. Husband even reversed the door handle direction so the cat couldn’t make that awful clanking noise. But the cat is maniacal. He scratches at the door and the linoleum. This morning I heard him scratching and thought I’d let him practice self-soothing (as they say is good for babies). Ten minutes later I check on him anyway and find that he’s torn up about a 3 inch patch of linoleum right next to the door! Evil cat doesn’t sum it up. We are renting, people! This is gonna cost us. So at 5 a.m. I’m on the floor trying to put the puzzle pieces of linoleum back together, slapping packaging tape over that to keep it in place. Followed by aluminum foil and more packing tape on the edges to hopefully deter the cat from further damage. Yeah, right.

My husband, of course, didn’t take the news well and started muttering in fast inarticulate French and proceeded to cut the cat’s claws really short. There is no tenderness in those blue eyes today. Ah, it will all calm down at one time or another, let’s hope.

Bastille Day and French-Anglo communication

Baby kindly cooperated and stayed put so that I could go to the barbeque organized by one of my colleagues. It was a joyous mix of French and Anglo cultures and foods. Everyone seemed to enjoy my Tollhouse cookies (imported chocolate chips, brown sugar and baking soda) whether they were discovering the taste for the first time or having a nostalgic moment. Good salsa dips (hey, Crystal!), taboulé salads, rose wine (not for me), chocolate pies. My husband made more of an effort to speak English with my coworkers and I think down deep he enjoys practicing. He’s starting to see that the British-American way of teasing is not mean and sarcastic though this can remain a big point of debate between us! The French do tease, too, but I suppose they don’t see it the same way as we do.

Still not sure in fact if I mortally offended the mid-wife doing the preparation courses at the hospital last week. I asked her about that famous maternity list of what to bring in your suitcase and when she didn’t know what the “gigoteuse” was (the sleeper thingie), I said (jokingly!), well, if you don’t know either that reassures me. Then she said something like don’t make fun of me, but I couldn’t tell if she was joking back or not! So I covered by saying, well, you see, I’m not French, and this baby stuff is an entirely new language, which she agreed with. If she’s on duty when I go in for the big day I may just have to make sure we’re on good terms or she might take revenge on me…

Anyway, yesterday went to the in-laws for lunch. This was real Bastille Day and we were blessed with something resembling summer weather. Bluer skies than we’ve had in a while and some nearly hot parts of the day. Father-in-law was whacking down an unruly bush that bothered him. Don’t know if my parents-in-law really know how to relax. Their work is always two steps away from their front door and when there’s a fairly quiet period they still keep busy with home repairs and cleaning and gardening. I feel colossally lazy next to them. How to ever explain to them that I spend a good deal of my team reading and writing emails and perusing web sites, watching TV, reading books and, oh, yeah, a bit of cleaning in there, too. It would just amount to nothing for them. But it’s my life.

We watched a bit of the Tour de France on TV as we ate. The parents-in-law don’t really watch any sports except this one, and mostly just to see the lush landscapes the cyclists are whizzing by. It’s kind of lulling, with the quiet commentary and the lush green images. Great for helping you get in napping mode. And after coming home late from the BBQ I needed a little nap. As the husband and I were so tired we came on home and rested then had crêpes for dinner. Not exactly Bastille Day food, but it hit the spot. We basically just used anything in the fridge as filling, turkey slices, hot dog sausages, spinach, mashed potatoes. And a few dessert crêpes, but I tried to be “good” and just used a bit of jam and pineapple slices on mine. Still watching out for my sugar since it was a bit high last month.

Now I’m just hanging out here doing some random cleaning and organizing (again). Chat-chat’s more back to his normal self, including those charming habits of scratching at the door and tearing up bits of linoleum (really not good). He’s slowly eating again and jumps in our laps again for a cuddle. To think I was crying my eyes out a few days ago for him.

More later…

Three vet visits in one week

During the last vet visit yesterday I very maturely cried my eyes out in front of the no-nonsense vet lady. I was so hoping to keep it in and calmly describe Chat's symptoms but in the waiting room I just felt those tears welling up. CC was in his carrier case trying to ignore the dogs who were barking up a storm. He had enough energy (or maybe it's his innate cat nature) to hiss and growl at them through the plastic slats of his case. Then the vet called us in.

Blubbery me, I apologized for being a total mess and proceeded to tell her that CC still wasn't eating or drinking on his own. That all we could do was squirt the cat milk in his mouth with a syringe and he just moved slowly from one part of the living room to the other. She palpated him and said he seemed less sensitive than Wednesday and there were no hematomas visible on his tummy. For her he's doing better but it'll just take time. Another check to the vet (grand total for this week: 76 euros) and I departed with CC and a new tin of special pet milk that's fortified with vitamins and other good stuff. Just to make a liar out of me, last night he actually drank some water on his own and licked his face a little (the first washing since Tuesday!).

Yes, I love my kitty and I've always been highly emotional about my pets when they're ill. And my husband, despite saying he's not a cat person and often calling CC sale bête (dirty creature), has been participating in the cat-feeding sessions and saying, "Oh, oui, Chat-chat, oh, oui." Actually he says that even when CC isn't sick during their TV cuddle time.

I suppose I feel a little guilty worrying so much about my Chat-baby and not as much about baby baby. Of course I haven't forgotten about bébé, but she's been safe in my belly whereas Chat-baby took that nasty fall. There were times early in my pregnancy when I almost found it hard to imagine loving my baby more than CC. Now I know that of course if bébé were allergic to cats, I'd have to part with CC, not bb. No brainer there. Let's just hope we can all be one happy family. Pretty soon CC will be back to his old tricks, jumping on the counters without invitation as my husband snarls, "Hey, Chat-chat, you need a hand there?!" Ah, the good old days.