This is the last day of my maternity leave. It's been twelve weeks since my doctor advised a very pregnant me to stop working.
It is hard not to feel a twinge of disappointment in myself.
I didn't do a scrapbooking project. I didn't write every day. I didn't get in shape or read a great novel or test new cake recipes. I didn't figure out the secrets of training employees to be better critical thinkers and problem solvers.
On the other hand, I did a lot in twelve weeks.
May 29, 2007
May 12, 2007
Elegy to a feeding
The crackle of the baby monitor jolts me out of a dream. The room is silent. I wonder if I dreamed the whole thing. A moment later, I hear the next in a series of staccato pleas that intensify as I throw off the down comforter and roll my legs toward the floor.
As I climb out of bed, I treat myself to a quick swig of water and a glance at the alarm clock. 3:00. Or maybe 3:15. But certainly no later than 3:30.
I perform a quick calculation on my way across the hall. Her last feeding was around 11:00. She fell asleep around midnight. Four hours between feedings. Three hours of sleep. Perfectly reasonable, for a newborn.
As I climb out of bed, I treat myself to a quick swig of water and a glance at the alarm clock. 3:00. Or maybe 3:15. But certainly no later than 3:30.
I perform a quick calculation on my way across the hall. Her last feeding was around 11:00. She fell asleep around midnight. Four hours between feedings. Three hours of sleep. Perfectly reasonable, for a newborn.
May 2, 2007
Six weeks is a lifetime: Things I've learned from my daughter
No matter how snugly I place it on her head, that hat will be gone the moment I turn around.
Yes, there is a difference among diaper brands.
Man has never created a baby toy as fascinating to gaze upon as the track lighting in my kitchen.
Compared to staying home, my job is really, really easy.
Sometimes it feels like the only thing standing between myself and greatness is a good night's sleep.
The Innocence Mission's "We Walked in Song" is the perfect soundtrack for feeding a baby at 3 a.m.
The vibration and white noise of a car engine can lull the angriest infant to sleep. That is, unless the car happens to be a hybrid.
When I look at Evie's hands, I see a resemblance to my own. It gives me chills every time.
I wouldn't mind spending a rainy afternoon being cuddled while wearing an ultra-soft pair of feet pajamas.
Chili's offers a wide selection of tasty entrees available for takeout.
I would offer my firstborn to the inventors of the Swaddle-Me wrap, the Hotsling, or the Soothie - except that my firstborn is Evie, and I wouldn't really need those products if she weren't in my care.
There is no sound more distressing than hearing my baby cry.
There is no sound sweeter than the absence of Evie's cries when I step out of the shower and realize she has fallen asleep in my absence.
Mothers who have time for scrapbooking frighten me.
The milestones have a way of clustering together. In one week, Evie started to smile, hold her head up, reach for things, and turn at the sound of a voice. She doesn't do any of these things consistently yet, but she seems like a different baby than she was last month.
I'm sorry that I ever described my cat as "high maintenance."
No matter how many pictures I take, it's not enough.
The idiom "sleeping like a baby" is silly, unless you're describing a fitful, 2-hour nap punctuated at 15-minute intervals by spit-up, wild flailing, and the occasional sleep snort.
BabyGap is a dangerous place.
Newborns are, in many ways, not ready to leave the womb. They're afraid and easily overwhelmed. They need a lot of comforting. Watching a baby's fear subside to curiosity, even in fleeting moments, feels like watching the "real" person being born.
It is impossible to own too many burp cloths.
Perhaps babies are not strong enough to sit up or roll over without months of practice, because all of their strength is concentrated in the grip of their tiny fingers.
Even if hunger wasn't the original problem, a snack can fix an otherwise inconsolable mood. (Unfortunately, this one applies to me, too, and unlike Evie, I'm not trying to triple my weight this year.)
Grocery shopping at 10 a.m. on a Thursday makes an ordinary Safeway feel like a luxury getaway.
The vibrate function on the pack-and-play was worth the extra $40.
Time takes on a new meaning in the presence of a baby: Somehow a month can pass in the blink of an eye, a half hour of crying can last an eternity, and six weeks can literally be a lifetime.
Yes, there is a difference among diaper brands.
Man has never created a baby toy as fascinating to gaze upon as the track lighting in my kitchen.
Compared to staying home, my job is really, really easy.
Sometimes it feels like the only thing standing between myself and greatness is a good night's sleep.
The Innocence Mission's "We Walked in Song" is the perfect soundtrack for feeding a baby at 3 a.m.
The vibration and white noise of a car engine can lull the angriest infant to sleep. That is, unless the car happens to be a hybrid.
When I look at Evie's hands, I see a resemblance to my own. It gives me chills every time.
I wouldn't mind spending a rainy afternoon being cuddled while wearing an ultra-soft pair of feet pajamas.
Chili's offers a wide selection of tasty entrees available for takeout.
I would offer my firstborn to the inventors of the Swaddle-Me wrap, the Hotsling, or the Soothie - except that my firstborn is Evie, and I wouldn't really need those products if she weren't in my care.
There is no sound more distressing than hearing my baby cry.
There is no sound sweeter than the absence of Evie's cries when I step out of the shower and realize she has fallen asleep in my absence.
Mothers who have time for scrapbooking frighten me.
The milestones have a way of clustering together. In one week, Evie started to smile, hold her head up, reach for things, and turn at the sound of a voice. She doesn't do any of these things consistently yet, but she seems like a different baby than she was last month.
I'm sorry that I ever described my cat as "high maintenance."
No matter how many pictures I take, it's not enough.
The idiom "sleeping like a baby" is silly, unless you're describing a fitful, 2-hour nap punctuated at 15-minute intervals by spit-up, wild flailing, and the occasional sleep snort.
BabyGap is a dangerous place.
Newborns are, in many ways, not ready to leave the womb. They're afraid and easily overwhelmed. They need a lot of comforting. Watching a baby's fear subside to curiosity, even in fleeting moments, feels like watching the "real" person being born.
It is impossible to own too many burp cloths.
Perhaps babies are not strong enough to sit up or roll over without months of practice, because all of their strength is concentrated in the grip of their tiny fingers.
Even if hunger wasn't the original problem, a snack can fix an otherwise inconsolable mood. (Unfortunately, this one applies to me, too, and unlike Evie, I'm not trying to triple my weight this year.)
Grocery shopping at 10 a.m. on a Thursday makes an ordinary Safeway feel like a luxury getaway.
The vibrate function on the pack-and-play was worth the extra $40.
Time takes on a new meaning in the presence of a baby: Somehow a month can pass in the blink of an eye, a half hour of crying can last an eternity, and six weeks can literally be a lifetime.
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