Shoutin' about her two teeth!
Thursday, June 02, 2005
Out = In
That's right, Sami just passed the 9 month mark. So she's kind of been "out" as long as she was "in." Which means she's had an impact on my life for 18 months now. Wow.
Stuff about Sami at 9 months:
Stuff about Sami at 9 months:
- She had her 9 month check-up at her doctor's yesterday. She has really plateaued (according to my home scale) in her weight gain now that she's eating "real" food, and so I was certain she would have dropped out of the 90-something percentile she has been in since she was just a few weeks old, as far as weight and height. But all babies must plateau out at this point, because with her weight at 21.25 pounds, and her height at 29 inches -- she remains right at that 90 percentile. Meaning--for those of you not living in baby- percentile-world with the rest of us new moms and dads--that only 10 percent of the babies out there are bigger/taller than her. Average, would of course, be at 50. The good news is her height and weight remain amazingly locked together, so proportion-wise, she's perfect. And I don't think she's going to be Giant Baby or anything, she just seems so healthy and robust, and grows and grows.
- She can babble pretty good now. She thinks she's really giving you a good talking to, anyway. And every once in a while she'll stumble across random syllables that form a word appropriate as an answer to a question we might have just asked her, and it gives us such a good laugh. You know, something like, "Oh my... Mommy is having an exquisite hair day, don't you think, Sami?" And she'll go, "Uh, uh." Right on queue. Love that.
- She remains completely smitten with her dad. She lights up when he comes home or into the room. Mom who?
- Chew and chew and chew. I can't help myself from saying this every time I give her a bite of "grown up" food. But I swear she understands. And she does chew and chew and chew. Only still the 2 front teeth, but her others are all right under the surface and she's gotten quite proficient at chewing up small bites of everything we can think up to give her. She especially is partial to any kind of meat. She loves chicken, turkey breast, barbecue beef ribs, steak, burgers, sausage -- anything. And she likes bread, peas, cooked green bell pepper, cheese, tomato. The things she's not yet so sure of mostly have to do with texture -- cottage cheese makes her shiver, rice is questionable. Funky new textures have much more bearing with her than the actual taste of things, apparently.
- She'll now goof around with mostly, but also actually drink part of, a cup of water from her sippy cup. I made the mistake of giving her orange Gatorade the other day, and she loved it. I immediately remanded myself. I should have started with water, not something sweet. Oops.
- Going out in the stroller for a long walk, especially if it is breezy at all and maybe blowing hard enough to move her hair, makes her literally squeal with delight. She loves being outside, and if it is breezy, the experience is complete for her.
- Her personality is beginning its debut. For the most part she is a sunny, happy, smiley little person. But I see the dark shadows of her mother's presence too. Say you dilly-dally a little while making her lunch? No patience whatsoever. And she doesn't cry like a baby when she's impatient. She lets loose with this kind of--I don't know how to describe it--but it is the same noise I make when something is really frustrating me. Some inanimate object you know -- like trying to put back together something you've had to take apart, and no matter what you do, you can't get a nut screwed back onto the bolt?
- When we go in in the morning now to get her from her crib -- just starting this past week -- she's standing up all the time now. She can pull herself up and will stand and stand there.
- Still no crawling proper, but she can scooch across the room with ease and speed now. And she's getting up on her hands and knees for longer and longer periods of time. It seems as though it will just be days now before she figures it out.
- Her hair is almost in her eyes. It grows so fast now. I can have film developed from photos I just took 2 weeks ago, and when I look from them to her, and see how fast her hair is growing, it is surprising. Since I am the official family haircutter -- I do her dad's, and I do my own, of course I will be taking on this new task. Her father is very nervous.
- I personally cannot stand to step outside without my sunglasses on. And when the sun gets in Sami's eyes, it really seems to bother her. So I ordered her a pair of BabyBanz sunglasses. They have an adjustable band to go around her head instead of the traditional style -- the better for keeping on a baby. And they arrived this week -- pink, of course. She looks way too adorable in them. And if you distract her with a toy or something right as you put them on her, she immediately forgets about them and is very comfortable wearing them. So, so cute.
- She's also pretty tolerant of hats. Which, of course is good... what's cuter than a baby in a hat? Nothing.
We can't even fathom for ourselves how much we love her, and enjoy her and delight in her every day. We honestly marvel to each other all the time what a gift it is to have this incredible, sweet, beautiful child in our lives. She fills our hearts so. She could not be more loved.
Wednesday, June 01, 2005
Tuesday, April 26, 2005
Some More Random Thoughts About Sami @ 8 Months
- When Sami's sleeping on her back in her crib, and you go in to check on her from above, her little eyes are just crescents of black lashes -- so beautiful.
- She's sitting up on her own very stably now, so you can plunk her down anywhere while you're doing other stuff--say, laundry, or something--and when you walk back in from another room, and she's just sitting there so dearly, looking up at you, she just looks so tiny and at the same time so much a little person... it is difficult for me to describe, but it makes me feel so protective towards her. She just looks so small in the world, doing such a "grown-up" thing as sitting there by herself.
- "They" said this could happen at various stages of Sami's development, that she'll favor one parent over the other, so I've tried to steel myself for it, however, in the past two days, if I am holding her in my arms and her daddy arrives, she actually squirms around and pushes away from me (this has never happened before) trying to get to him. The fact that he delights in it so much in no way mitigates the gravity of the matter, naturally. ;-)
- Sami eats amazing portions of her food now. But her weight gain--previously so alarmingly near the top of the percentile for her age--has now plateaued. As if her little body knew to pack on the pounds early on to prepare for this stage where she's now eating "real" food and becoming so much more physically active. She's at 20+ pounds now, has been for weeks, and just seems to be remaining there.
- Sami will try any food we try to give her. She loves her morning cereal, usually has a vegetable and fruit for lunch, and some kind of meaty little vegetable dish for dinner, with more fruit for dessert. As for big people food, she dislikes mashed potatoes and baked beans (well no, I don't mean together), but enjoys a little bite of fried eggs, some tidbits of Italian Dry Salame, and had a little taste of pancake the other morning. She can also sort of drink from a bottle cap--like if I'm having bottled water on one of our walks, she will gamely attempt sips from the cap offered up. She loves ice cream and anything cold. And is disdainful of anything warmed up too much. She likes organic baby foods (and their heavier, more realistic textures) much better than conventional, and then I'm able to be a bit more relaxed about the concerns of feeding her meats from animals given growth hormones and the like. I wasn't too worried about vegetables and fruits, since those get dosed with pesticides and herbicides from the outside, and generally lose their peels and are so strained that I don't believe she winds up eating much of the outside--but meats I felt differently about. I'm not a health-food freak or anything, but growth hormones in any quantity in such a tiny body concerned me. And so now that she loves them more anyway, and the price is only about 10 cents more per jar, we'll be sticking with the organics for a while.
- She "chews." Too cute since she only has gums with teeth right underneath, and those two front bottom teeth. But she watches Daddy and I very intently while we're eating and has finally started to mimic our chewing when she eats.
- Changing her diaper has now turned into a wrestling match. She stretches and flips over in a heartbeat and so with one hand you're trying to hold her down, and that only leaves one hand with which to actually change and apply the new diaper. She takes it to be great sport, laughing and giggling about the whole struggle. Comical.
- She went to her first funeral yesterday. It was for the mother of one of Michael's best friends, and we just sat in the back of the church in the "crying" room. None of that. Nope. She certainly wasn't crying--she was in high spirits, full of noises and laughs and her signature "barks." And of course the concept of "shhhh" is completely lost on her, since the louder the better at our house, it seems. We stayed about 10 minutes since she seemed hellbent on audibly upping the fun level. And her father and I got the giggles about it.
- She now will say Dad-dad-dad on cue. And if you ask her "Where's Daddy? Where's Dad-dad-dad?" she will look for him and definitely associates that with him when you say it. But still not so much when she says it on her own. (He claims differently, of course.) To her it still seems to mostly just remain a few favorite syllables. And sadly, we don't even seem to be close to eliciting anything resembling Mom-mom-mom yet.
- It is a daily amazement for me just how well I know her. I mean, I've just never experienced knowing another person this well. I "get" her every little nuance, and it all feels like such a privilege to be granted this much insight into someone else. (I know, I know... it won't always be this way... but for now, it is amazing.)
- When you walk into any area where she is and she sees you, she lights up in a big smile. Every single time. Like you're the best thing she could have thought up to see next. I can wait a while for Mom-mom-mom, I guess. :-)
Thursday, April 21, 2005
Notes About Sami at 7 1/2 Months
This one of her standing up is kind of “pretend” of course, because she can’t “really, really” stand by herself yet, although if I give her something to hold onto, like the railing on her crib, she can now stand there for at least 5 minutes by herself without keeling over. Anyway, so this one was a fun picture, where I had just let go of her, they snapped the photo, and then I grabbed her again.
She is now officially “scooching” around. If we put her on the floor, she can move several feet in any direction, but she does it by writhing around, and scooching herself backwards. No forward crawling yet, but I feel she’s getting very close. And we can no longer plunk her into a chair or on the couch – in an instant she can be over onto her belly and moving around, and in danger of falling. (Or, as it turns out this morning... not just in danger of falling, but falling. She has her first little goose egg on her forehead from just such a scenario. Daddy feels horrible, "I just turned away for a second!") So it is only floor or playpen for her now. Unless we have her in her high chair or something equally secure.
She’s also now flipping herself over in bed, as of this week. She used to always sleep on her back, which we all know you MUST do. But now that she’s older, that’s not the concern it was. And while we put her on her back to go to sleep, she then flips over and sleeps on her tummy now. And I swear she sleeps much more soundly that way, so that’s fine. And adorable, if I do say so.
She has now added meats to her diet regime, in addition to her much-loved morning cereal, vegetables and fruits. Which is also great, because if we give her a good dinner of baby food with meat in it, it seems to stick to her ribs a little better than just veggies and fruits, and she’s back to regularly sleeping 11 or 12 hours at night. I think because she doesn’t get so hungry anymore. She usually goes to bed now around 7pm, and sleeps until 6 or 6:30 most the time. Sometimes even longer. And she still usually takes a short nap around 9am, then she’s good for another 2 or 3 hour nap in the afternoon. Heavenly, if you’re a parent trying to get other stuff done. J
I also give her tastes of lots of different things that we may be eating… she’ll try about anything, but then clamps up if it isn’t to her liking. She loves ice cream, and she’s tried milk, fruit smoothies, refried beans, baked beans, potatoes, fried eggs, and even a bite of a french fry the other day at lunch. (I'm sure her dad was so proud that I had introduced her to salty, fried foods.) Her two bottom teeth are very visible now when she smiles, and the others aren’t far behind – you ought to see her chaw on your finger back on her molars every chance she gets.
She is now officially “scooching” around. If we put her on the floor, she can move several feet in any direction, but she does it by writhing around, and scooching herself backwards. No forward crawling yet, but I feel she’s getting very close. And we can no longer plunk her into a chair or on the couch – in an instant she can be over onto her belly and moving around, and in danger of falling. (Or, as it turns out this morning... not just in danger of falling, but falling. She has her first little goose egg on her forehead from just such a scenario. Daddy feels horrible, "I just turned away for a second!") So it is only floor or playpen for her now. Unless we have her in her high chair or something equally secure.
She’s also now flipping herself over in bed, as of this week. She used to always sleep on her back, which we all know you MUST do. But now that she’s older, that’s not the concern it was. And while we put her on her back to go to sleep, she then flips over and sleeps on her tummy now. And I swear she sleeps much more soundly that way, so that’s fine. And adorable, if I do say so.
She has now added meats to her diet regime, in addition to her much-loved morning cereal, vegetables and fruits. Which is also great, because if we give her a good dinner of baby food with meat in it, it seems to stick to her ribs a little better than just veggies and fruits, and she’s back to regularly sleeping 11 or 12 hours at night. I think because she doesn’t get so hungry anymore. She usually goes to bed now around 7pm, and sleeps until 6 or 6:30 most the time. Sometimes even longer. And she still usually takes a short nap around 9am, then she’s good for another 2 or 3 hour nap in the afternoon. Heavenly, if you’re a parent trying to get other stuff done. J
I also give her tastes of lots of different things that we may be eating… she’ll try about anything, but then clamps up if it isn’t to her liking. She loves ice cream, and she’s tried milk, fruit smoothies, refried beans, baked beans, potatoes, fried eggs, and even a bite of a french fry the other day at lunch. (I'm sure her dad was so proud that I had introduced her to salty, fried foods.) Her two bottom teeth are very visible now when she smiles, and the others aren’t far behind – you ought to see her chaw on your finger back on her molars every chance she gets.
Thursday, March 31, 2005
Dad Sizes Things Up
This afternoon, I came home from work to find Daddy and Sami merrily amusing each other. And Michael was packing for a little overnighter to a conference, and was understandably a little preoccupied, I guess. But after I shed all my work gear, and Michael had disappeared elsewhere in the house, and I walked over to shmooze with the Samster, I see that he has her--and I mean this in the very literal sense of the word--crammed into a little one-piece outfit that she wore when she was about 2 months old. It is a favorite of mine that her Aunt Bec bought for her, and too adorable to be passed on to Goodwill, so I had kept it buried at the back of her closet, as one of the few clothing items I allowed myself to keep as a sentimental item.
Let me point out that Daddy doesn't concern himself much with whether or not outfits are actually buttoned or snapped as intended. If most of her is covered, he's pretty satisfied. So if the snap-closed crotch area of a one piece outfit doesn't quite get snapped up, he's mostly like what the heck, whatever.
So when he couldn't even get these close, he just kind of twaunched a couple of snaps from the right leg into the middle receptacles, and called it done. But what was so very funny looking, was that the legs hit her mid-thigh (they were supposed to be full-length, and were, when it fit her). And her little arms were smooshed into the sleeves like tightly packed sausages, with the cuffs hitting her just below the elbows. It was a size 0 to 3 months, and she's currently in the 18 month size, if that gives you a better indication? Gosh, you really had to see it to appreciate it.
I am learning to have a better sense of humor in lieu of criticizing in these types of situations, so I didn't say anything, and just hauled her upstairs and put her in, you know, an outfit that, well... fit. But you just can't help but wonder what sort of filter is produced by his eyes that had him satisfied that that was an outfit well-chosen. Did he actually stand back and admire his work when he was done wrestling her into it? Only Sami knows.
Let me point out that Daddy doesn't concern himself much with whether or not outfits are actually buttoned or snapped as intended. If most of her is covered, he's pretty satisfied. So if the snap-closed crotch area of a one piece outfit doesn't quite get snapped up, he's mostly like what the heck, whatever.
So when he couldn't even get these close, he just kind of twaunched a couple of snaps from the right leg into the middle receptacles, and called it done. But what was so very funny looking, was that the legs hit her mid-thigh (they were supposed to be full-length, and were, when it fit her). And her little arms were smooshed into the sleeves like tightly packed sausages, with the cuffs hitting her just below the elbows. It was a size 0 to 3 months, and she's currently in the 18 month size, if that gives you a better indication? Gosh, you really had to see it to appreciate it.
I am learning to have a better sense of humor in lieu of criticizing in these types of situations, so I didn't say anything, and just hauled her upstairs and put her in, you know, an outfit that, well... fit. But you just can't help but wonder what sort of filter is produced by his eyes that had him satisfied that that was an outfit well-chosen. Did he actually stand back and admire his work when he was done wrestling her into it? Only Sami knows.
Sami Freaks Out
Poor little bean. ;-)
Since we recently moved into our newly constructed home, we're still dealing with a few warranty items with our homebuilder -- the occasional loose hardwood floorboard, or a failed caulking or your whatnot and the like. So our customer service rep is this seemingly very nice young man, Brice. And Brice is what... maybe late 20s, early 30s. Very mellow pleasant enough guy. Nothing menacing to him that meets the eye. At least that I can see.
On Monday, he stopped by to drop off some little fix-it items, and I answered the door with Sami in my arms, and as soon as he walked in, she started crying. Now, I now this sounds weird, but she really doesn't every really cry. She'll complain a little, and make some noise to instruct us when she's hungry, or tired, or in need of a diaper change. But she just doesn't ever really cry-cry. But she did this day. And I apologized all over, and explained that it was her naptime and she was just tired. Brice and I tried to discuss some other pending repairs, but Sami was having none of that--we literally could not hear each other over her crying, and so we scheduled a time that he would drop by the following day where we could run through the items in the house still needing attention.
Tuesday comes. And Brice arrives a little early, and I'm all "okay, she's well-rested this time; I'm sure it was just a quirk." Nuh uh. I open the door, and let Brice in, and set Sami on the sofa with her favorite toy so Brice and I can talk, and within about 10 seconds, her bottom lip curled up, and she started crying. Or maybe it is better described as screaming. Like I've never seen her do. I felt horrible for Brice, and I felt horrible for the frightened Sami, and I kept trying to talk some sense into her which as you can guess is fairly futile with a 7 month old. So I'm trying everything to calm her down and console her, and trying simultaneously to make the very self-conscious Baby Frightener feel like he's not a baby frightener, to no avail in either case. And I finally put Sami in her playpen, and hang blankets on the sides so she can't see him. And I give her a bottle to try to soothe her, which she wants nothing to do with. And I walk Brice into another area of the house, so we can talk quietly enough that she won't even hear him, apologizing and exclaiming to him how she never does this. Which of course only serves to make him feel worse. We had to get our business done, so I just had to keep going to Sami and trying to reassure her, and then I'd run back to Brice and try to show him a crack in the drywall by the window, and so on. It was really quite ridicuous. But also very heart-wrenching because Sami is friggin' sobbing and inconsolable. And I can tell that she is truly scared and upset.
This went on for nearly half an hour while we went all through the house and tried to have a reasonable, adult conversation all the while with this screaming little child, who is breaking my heart because I can't make her feel better.
Finally Brice left, and I had to go get the screaming, red-faced, tear-streaked Sami out of her playpen, and show her all through the house that he was gone. And immediately the crying stopped. There were a few leftover jagged intakes of breath like they'll do when they've just cried their little heart out. But she was okay then.
Geesh. What was up with that? Is he a secret serial killer that only she could sense? I don't think so. But she's got me wondering.
Since we recently moved into our newly constructed home, we're still dealing with a few warranty items with our homebuilder -- the occasional loose hardwood floorboard, or a failed caulking or your whatnot and the like. So our customer service rep is this seemingly very nice young man, Brice. And Brice is what... maybe late 20s, early 30s. Very mellow pleasant enough guy. Nothing menacing to him that meets the eye. At least that I can see.
On Monday, he stopped by to drop off some little fix-it items, and I answered the door with Sami in my arms, and as soon as he walked in, she started crying. Now, I now this sounds weird, but she really doesn't every really cry. She'll complain a little, and make some noise to instruct us when she's hungry, or tired, or in need of a diaper change. But she just doesn't ever really cry-cry. But she did this day. And I apologized all over, and explained that it was her naptime and she was just tired. Brice and I tried to discuss some other pending repairs, but Sami was having none of that--we literally could not hear each other over her crying, and so we scheduled a time that he would drop by the following day where we could run through the items in the house still needing attention.
Tuesday comes. And Brice arrives a little early, and I'm all "okay, she's well-rested this time; I'm sure it was just a quirk." Nuh uh. I open the door, and let Brice in, and set Sami on the sofa with her favorite toy so Brice and I can talk, and within about 10 seconds, her bottom lip curled up, and she started crying. Or maybe it is better described as screaming. Like I've never seen her do. I felt horrible for Brice, and I felt horrible for the frightened Sami, and I kept trying to talk some sense into her which as you can guess is fairly futile with a 7 month old. So I'm trying everything to calm her down and console her, and trying simultaneously to make the very self-conscious Baby Frightener feel like he's not a baby frightener, to no avail in either case. And I finally put Sami in her playpen, and hang blankets on the sides so she can't see him. And I give her a bottle to try to soothe her, which she wants nothing to do with. And I walk Brice into another area of the house, so we can talk quietly enough that she won't even hear him, apologizing and exclaiming to him how she never does this. Which of course only serves to make him feel worse. We had to get our business done, so I just had to keep going to Sami and trying to reassure her, and then I'd run back to Brice and try to show him a crack in the drywall by the window, and so on. It was really quite ridicuous. But also very heart-wrenching because Sami is friggin' sobbing and inconsolable. And I can tell that she is truly scared and upset.
This went on for nearly half an hour while we went all through the house and tried to have a reasonable, adult conversation all the while with this screaming little child, who is breaking my heart because I can't make her feel better.
Finally Brice left, and I had to go get the screaming, red-faced, tear-streaked Sami out of her playpen, and show her all through the house that he was gone. And immediately the crying stopped. There were a few leftover jagged intakes of breath like they'll do when they've just cried their little heart out. But she was okay then.
Geesh. What was up with that? Is he a secret serial killer that only she could sense? I don't think so. But she's got me wondering.
Sunday, March 27, 2005
A Tooth, A Vasectomy, A Quarrel, and Time
Last Monday I did my regular-occasional, finger-in-the-mouth perusal of Sami's gums, checking for teeth, and stunningly, I found one this time. Yep, first tooth! It is her bottom left front tooth. Sharp as the edge of a serrated knife--there it was. Making absolutely no sense at all, I felt something akin to--I don't know--pride? Why pride I've no idea. I mean, all babies get teeth eventually. And she's right on schedule to get teeth. But if you're a parent, then you get it... you feel this bizarre inexplicable sense of pride as they hit these milestones. A tooth, for heaven's sake. It somehow felt so gratifying.
All their changes and developments happen in such tiny increments that it is difficult to guage them, to feel them; but give yourself something substantial like a tooth -- a hard little depiction of their advancement -- and it is so abrupt-feeling. Bam! Sami has "teeth." Okay, technically it isn't the plural... but you know what I mean.
So we've passed other of these little "growing up" milestones, but this one... I don't know why... well, in light of the entire week, I guess I do... but this one kind of kicked me in the gut.
All the moms of grown-up kids that I know warn me over and over that I'll turn around and Sami will be in high-school and I'll have missed everything in between. I beg to differ in that I think my advanced age allows me a certain perspective that younger moms don't have--allows me an appreciation for savoring moments and the sweetness therein. But nonetheless, this one made me draw back and recognize that I'll no longer experience the little tiny baby moments that are so sweet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy each new stage of Sami's more than I could have ever imagined, but all of a sudden on this one I saw in my mind's eye these fleeting moments of her being this totally dependent infant and now I envision her eating like a big girl, then walking, then talking and on and on. And it wrenched me in a way-- her "infanthood" is gone. And I already feel this weird longing for it. You want them to grow and thrive and become a little person, and then when they start to exhibit it, it causes these heretofore unexpected pangs of longing for those pieces and moments of her curling into you and being a little baby. She isn't one anymore, and it kinda hurts a little.
Then, this week was the long-schedule V-Day for Michael. Let me pave the background... about a month ago I had this little anxiety attack wherein I thought maybe, it could be possible, what-if, Oh God, I might be pregnant. I went and bought a test kit, and I wasn't. And the relief was profound. I was so frightened of being pregnant again I can't even verbalize it. But at the same time, when it turned out negative, I felt this weird, awful, teeniest bit of sadness. Because I knew the vasectomy day was looming, and that that of course, was the end-all and be-all.
In bits and pieces, without ever coming right out and pronouncing ourselves to be talking about It, Michael and I had agreed we couldn't have another baby. Due to lots of things that make lots of sense. I feel so bad for Sami on so many levels that she won't have a sibling (I can't get into all that here), but I also knew I could not face another pregnancy at 42, birth at 43, and all the myriad horrendous things that could go wrong with a pregnancy at such an advanced age. You want stuff to worry about? Talk to high-risk pregnancy doctors when you're already pregnant past 35. Forget 41 -- the odds of bad things increases exponentially with each year and it is just unthinkable all the things they can think up to tell you that can go wrong.
So anyway, vasectomy day draws nigh, and I kept imagining that prior to it, that I would have an opportunity to talk to Michael about my self-denied longing for another baby--you know, for Sami of course--and that while he was listening I would deftly talk myself out of it. And he would feel great empathy but would intelligently agree with me on every logical point, and we would reach together the conclusion that we were doing exactly and without option, the right thing. But wouldn't you know, the night before V-Day arrives, and I've still got all these stupid feelings roiling about inside me, instead of having the opportunity to conduct the melancholy, sentimental conversation I needed in order to therapize myself out of my misgivings, we instead manage to have a spat that night. A totally unreasonable, unusual, unexplainable, horrible evening of escalating bad feelings and mean words that while we rarely have them, when we do, are of heart-sickening consequence to me.
So he goes to the doctor's office the next day, and we're barely speaking, and I'm feeling just sick that we're not talking, and he has the "procedure" and we're on our way home, and for 3 days I'm taking care of him, and all along I'm feeling this idiotic stuff.
In deference to Michael, at some point, and I don't even know when it happened in this whole mixed up week, I did weakly attempt to verbalize all these conflicting feelings to him, in a very abbreviated fashion, and God love him, he made this thoughtful reply when asked by me, "Do you know what I mean?"... he goes, "No. But then I'm not a woman." A more insightful statement never made.
We made up and made things right between us, but there remains this finality to it, and this realization that now, no matter anything else, I'm not having another baby (which, don't get me wrong here--I by no means in my head wanted to have another baby) . But aren't I allowed to feel sad about it anyway?
I'm such a goober.
All their changes and developments happen in such tiny increments that it is difficult to guage them, to feel them; but give yourself something substantial like a tooth -- a hard little depiction of their advancement -- and it is so abrupt-feeling. Bam! Sami has "teeth." Okay, technically it isn't the plural... but you know what I mean.
So we've passed other of these little "growing up" milestones, but this one... I don't know why... well, in light of the entire week, I guess I do... but this one kind of kicked me in the gut.
All the moms of grown-up kids that I know warn me over and over that I'll turn around and Sami will be in high-school and I'll have missed everything in between. I beg to differ in that I think my advanced age allows me a certain perspective that younger moms don't have--allows me an appreciation for savoring moments and the sweetness therein. But nonetheless, this one made me draw back and recognize that I'll no longer experience the little tiny baby moments that are so sweet. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy each new stage of Sami's more than I could have ever imagined, but all of a sudden on this one I saw in my mind's eye these fleeting moments of her being this totally dependent infant and now I envision her eating like a big girl, then walking, then talking and on and on. And it wrenched me in a way-- her "infanthood" is gone. And I already feel this weird longing for it. You want them to grow and thrive and become a little person, and then when they start to exhibit it, it causes these heretofore unexpected pangs of longing for those pieces and moments of her curling into you and being a little baby. She isn't one anymore, and it kinda hurts a little.
Then, this week was the long-schedule V-Day for Michael. Let me pave the background... about a month ago I had this little anxiety attack wherein I thought maybe, it could be possible, what-if, Oh God, I might be pregnant. I went and bought a test kit, and I wasn't. And the relief was profound. I was so frightened of being pregnant again I can't even verbalize it. But at the same time, when it turned out negative, I felt this weird, awful, teeniest bit of sadness. Because I knew the vasectomy day was looming, and that that of course, was the end-all and be-all.
In bits and pieces, without ever coming right out and pronouncing ourselves to be talking about It, Michael and I had agreed we couldn't have another baby. Due to lots of things that make lots of sense. I feel so bad for Sami on so many levels that she won't have a sibling (I can't get into all that here), but I also knew I could not face another pregnancy at 42, birth at 43, and all the myriad horrendous things that could go wrong with a pregnancy at such an advanced age. You want stuff to worry about? Talk to high-risk pregnancy doctors when you're already pregnant past 35. Forget 41 -- the odds of bad things increases exponentially with each year and it is just unthinkable all the things they can think up to tell you that can go wrong.
So anyway, vasectomy day draws nigh, and I kept imagining that prior to it, that I would have an opportunity to talk to Michael about my self-denied longing for another baby--you know, for Sami of course--and that while he was listening I would deftly talk myself out of it. And he would feel great empathy but would intelligently agree with me on every logical point, and we would reach together the conclusion that we were doing exactly and without option, the right thing. But wouldn't you know, the night before V-Day arrives, and I've still got all these stupid feelings roiling about inside me, instead of having the opportunity to conduct the melancholy, sentimental conversation I needed in order to therapize myself out of my misgivings, we instead manage to have a spat that night. A totally unreasonable, unusual, unexplainable, horrible evening of escalating bad feelings and mean words that while we rarely have them, when we do, are of heart-sickening consequence to me.
So he goes to the doctor's office the next day, and we're barely speaking, and I'm feeling just sick that we're not talking, and he has the "procedure" and we're on our way home, and for 3 days I'm taking care of him, and all along I'm feeling this idiotic stuff.
In deference to Michael, at some point, and I don't even know when it happened in this whole mixed up week, I did weakly attempt to verbalize all these conflicting feelings to him, in a very abbreviated fashion, and God love him, he made this thoughtful reply when asked by me, "Do you know what I mean?"... he goes, "No. But then I'm not a woman." A more insightful statement never made.
We made up and made things right between us, but there remains this finality to it, and this realization that now, no matter anything else, I'm not having another baby (which, don't get me wrong here--I by no means in my head wanted to have another baby) . But aren't I allowed to feel sad about it anyway?
I'm such a goober.
Tuesday, March 15, 2005
Sami "Sings"
Sami turned 6 months old at the end of February. And just let me say, she could not be more engaging. We absolutely delight in her--day in and day out. It takes so little to thrill us endlessly as we watch her development.
She's eating solid foods (vegetables, cereal and fruits) like mad. She's still a great sleeper and napper. She can sit up on her own. But mostly she's just so... involved with her dad and I now. She sees things she wants and reaches for them. She concentrates so hard on objects she's holding. If we're in the room with her, she wants--no, expects--all the attention to be on her. Well, she's had it no other way, so who can blame her?
And in that vein, she of course has been learning to make sounds. The raspberry was first, and her dad and I were just so pathetically thrilled to have her communicating with us on purpose that it didn't matter that it wasn't perhaps the prettiest or most dainty of noises. That lasted for weeks.
Then, she learned to, and I don't know how else to put this, she learned to bark, in a way. It is/was wildly adorable and comical to watch. I swear you could see the idea pop into her head that she was fixing to muster up some noise, and then she would make a very determined face that involved thinning out her lips and kind of pooching them out, and then she'd squeeze her eyes shut while simultaneously throwing up her arms, and out would come any one of varied--but I'm talking LOUD noises; most of which sounded like an abrupt bark of sorts. Well, blinded by the cuteness of the delivery of it, I made it a point to react with great amusement and exaggerated attention to her every time she did it, and so of course, reinforced it immediately and she added it to her repertoire.
Then, the fake cough made its appearance. Now, she's never even been sick with a cough, but occasionally she'll be yankin' on a bottle too fast and choke herself a little, and I always would run over (oops, this forces me to admit that since she can hold her own bottle now, that I sometimes take advantage of it and let her lie down and feed herself) and while she'd smile up through the milk with her little eyes watering a bit, I'd go, "Geez! Are you awright?" All cheerily, because she never has really choked. Well duh. Of course she caught on in no time that bottle or none, if she faked a cough, she'd be rewarded with me "checking" on her (read: giving her some face time). So that joined the barking.
Now, she's so beautiful and sweet, but the barking and fake coughing weren't exactly the sounds I might have chosen for her to finally learn to make to communicate within the family. Or worse yet, during our first outing to a neighborhood "Moms and Babies" outing where I'm sure the other mothers were secretly horrified that I'd brought my baby to sit with their babies when she was so clearly suffering from a severe bout of whooping cough, or some equally noxious disease involving uncontrollable coughing.
Anyway, just starting around yesterdayish, sweet relief...
She's now saying, "Dah-dah-dah-dah...". Without yet relating her to her dear father; but we're reinforcing the connection constantly, so I don't think it will be long now. But to dah-dah-dah, just yesterday, she started saying "Deet-deet-deet-deet." It isn't the syllables that are so sweet, but the delivery of them in a soft, high, sing-song voice. It just melts my heart. She mostly started doing it when she was playing and concentrating on her own, unaware of me watching her. And she'd just be like she was singing a little tune to herself to accompany whatever she was doing.
So I'm trying to train myself to ignore the barking and the coughing in an attempt to stop reinforcing those noises, and trying to "reward" her singing with lavish attention whenever she does it.
Why didn't anyone ever tell me during my 41 years with no baby, that babies are just so damn sweet? Geez. Who knew?
She's eating solid foods (vegetables, cereal and fruits) like mad. She's still a great sleeper and napper. She can sit up on her own. But mostly she's just so... involved with her dad and I now. She sees things she wants and reaches for them. She concentrates so hard on objects she's holding. If we're in the room with her, she wants--no, expects--all the attention to be on her. Well, she's had it no other way, so who can blame her?
And in that vein, she of course has been learning to make sounds. The raspberry was first, and her dad and I were just so pathetically thrilled to have her communicating with us on purpose that it didn't matter that it wasn't perhaps the prettiest or most dainty of noises. That lasted for weeks.
Then, she learned to, and I don't know how else to put this, she learned to bark, in a way. It is/was wildly adorable and comical to watch. I swear you could see the idea pop into her head that she was fixing to muster up some noise, and then she would make a very determined face that involved thinning out her lips and kind of pooching them out, and then she'd squeeze her eyes shut while simultaneously throwing up her arms, and out would come any one of varied--but I'm talking LOUD noises; most of which sounded like an abrupt bark of sorts. Well, blinded by the cuteness of the delivery of it, I made it a point to react with great amusement and exaggerated attention to her every time she did it, and so of course, reinforced it immediately and she added it to her repertoire.
Then, the fake cough made its appearance. Now, she's never even been sick with a cough, but occasionally she'll be yankin' on a bottle too fast and choke herself a little, and I always would run over (oops, this forces me to admit that since she can hold her own bottle now, that I sometimes take advantage of it and let her lie down and feed herself) and while she'd smile up through the milk with her little eyes watering a bit, I'd go, "Geez! Are you awright?" All cheerily, because she never has really choked. Well duh. Of course she caught on in no time that bottle or none, if she faked a cough, she'd be rewarded with me "checking" on her (read: giving her some face time). So that joined the barking.
Now, she's so beautiful and sweet, but the barking and fake coughing weren't exactly the sounds I might have chosen for her to finally learn to make to communicate within the family. Or worse yet, during our first outing to a neighborhood "Moms and Babies" outing where I'm sure the other mothers were secretly horrified that I'd brought my baby to sit with their babies when she was so clearly suffering from a severe bout of whooping cough, or some equally noxious disease involving uncontrollable coughing.
Anyway, just starting around yesterdayish, sweet relief...
She's now saying, "Dah-dah-dah-dah...". Without yet relating her to her dear father; but we're reinforcing the connection constantly, so I don't think it will be long now. But to dah-dah-dah, just yesterday, she started saying "Deet-deet-deet-deet." It isn't the syllables that are so sweet, but the delivery of them in a soft, high, sing-song voice. It just melts my heart. She mostly started doing it when she was playing and concentrating on her own, unaware of me watching her. And she'd just be like she was singing a little tune to herself to accompany whatever she was doing.
So I'm trying to train myself to ignore the barking and the coughing in an attempt to stop reinforcing those noises, and trying to "reward" her singing with lavish attention whenever she does it.
Why didn't anyone ever tell me during my 41 years with no baby, that babies are just so damn sweet? Geez. Who knew?
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