Sunday, January 31, 2010

Three-Month Update

Dear Hazel,
I'm a couple of weeks late for your three-month update. Please forgive me, but things have been a little crazy around here as of late. A couple of weeks ago, your Daddy and I both got a touch of stomach flu and had to visit the ER. Your Daddy got discharged that night, but I had something else going on and had to be admitted. $12,786 later and we still don't know what was wrong with me for those three days I had to stay in the hospital. The only thing I cared about was that you didn't get whatever I had. Because baby girl... don't nobody want what I had. And I just couldn't have handled you being so sick and not knowing what was wrong with you.

Luckily, your grandparents and Aunt were able to step in and help out while your Daddy and I were recovering. When I finally came home after three days in the hospital, I couldn't believe how much you had grown! You were like a whole new baby! I didn't get to hold you for another day just to make sure that I didn't infect you or anything. And, I wasn't able to breastfeed you for three days after my last dose of nasty antibiotics. And I cannot tell you how much that killed me. I didn't realize how much I truly enjoyed breastfeeding until it was taken away from me suddenly. And you were confused as well... every time I gave you a bottle, you would look at me like "What did I do wrong? Why can't I get some nip?"

I can't tell you how much I looked forward to and enjoyed our first feeding post antibiotics. It was absolutely amazing and made me so grateful that we have this between us.

You have become quite the baby lately. You smile all the time and are just so darn happy... especially in the early morning when you wake up for a feeding. So. Happy. I'm not so much a morning person myself, but when I go into your room to feed you in the early morning, any grumpiness I may have had disappears instantly when I see your smiling face. And you are just so excited to see me... I'm pretty sure that you pee your diaper AGAIN, just from excitement.

You've started going to bed between 7-8 at night and can usually sleep through the night until 6ish. Usually, when people talk about a baby sleeping "through the night", they're talking 6 hours of straight sleep. But you've been doing that since you were about 2 months old. Nowadays, you can usually be counted on for between 8-11 hours of sleep. And THAT, baby girl, is amazing.

Your neck is getting so incredibly strong and I feel like it's just a matter of time before we can put you in your baby seat at the table with us during dinner and you can just sit there supporting the weight of your own head without any help from us. You LOVE tummy time and we actually caught your very first roll over from tummy to back on camera.

You talk ALL. THE. TIME. Sometimes in the early morning when your internal alarm goes off at 6 a.m., your Daddy and I will lay in bed and just listen to you babble to yourself for 15 minutes or so. There honestly is not another sound in this world that we love more than your coos, ga-ga's and happy shrieks. Oh, that's right... you have shrieks of delight.

You LOVE bath time... and I think it's one of the reasons that you now go to bed at 7 or 8. You know that at the end of the day it's BATH TIME!!!! And bath time is party time. Especially when Daddy does the bath and turns you into Elvis.

Or George Washington.

You are growing so, so fast, Hazel-Bird. Your clothes are getting a leetle tight and short. The last time we checked last week, you were almost 15 pounds!! But it's not like you're a chunky monkey... you're just so loooonnngggg. I'm worried you're going to grow out of your swing and your car seat, and your bath chair! Not from weight... but from length! And then what are we gonna do???

You've discovered your hands and love to shove them in your mouth and stare at them. Usually while talking to them. About them. And quite frankly, you're setting a bad example for Daddy.

And since you've found this new trick, you constantly have spit all over your hands and you drool like a fat kid looking at a cupcake. ALL THE TIME. No wonder they have you in a bib all day at day care!!! You also like to grab things and hold on really, REALLY tightly. Like, for instance... Mommy's hair. Or Mommy's nose.

I cannot keep up with your fingernail growth and feel like the world worst mother when I pick you up out of your gym (by the way, you love your gym) and see a big. long. red. scratch down the side of your face. And then I have to go find the finger culprit. And you're just so damn happy that I can't get you to keep your hands still so that I can trim your nails.

You also have taken to swatting things away... like, for instance your bottle. Or my arms when I try to put saline drops in your nose. You're incredibly strong for a three-month-old. And you know what you like and what you do. not. like. You take after me that way.

You love your Daddy, baby girl. Since your neck has gotten so strong, Daddy's able to hoist you in the air like you're Superman.... something that you absolutely adore. As I'm writing this, you and Daddy are both on your tummys facing each other and babbling to each other. Might just be the most precious thing I've ever seen.

On Wednesday, you came home from day care with a bit of a head cold. Which was unfortunate because we were driving down to St. George on Thursday. You had kind of a long night Wednesday, but it wasn't too bad and we still took off for The George Thursday morning. We had a quick hour "lay-over" in Santaquin after Daddy accidentally backed up into a car at a gas station. It really was something that couldn't have been helped... since we had the Pilot packed to the max with OUR ENTIRE HOUSE. But it didn't seem to phase you at all and you had a good time talking and eating your hands.

We got to St. George and went for a quick walk up the mouth of Snow Canyon. We did this before eating dinner... even though we had skipped lunch... because, Hazel-Bird the SUN. WAS. SHINING. And it was like 50 degrees. And Mommy and Daddy were in desperate need of some Vitamin D. You, on the other hand... well, let's just say that in your short life you haven't seen a whole lot of sun and when we took you out and uncovered the stroller so that you could experience it, it was a definite shock to your system. Enough so that we covered you right back up and apologized profusely for ruining your life with this sun thing. This is going to take some getting used to when Ogden finally comes out of its deep freeze sometime in May. Hopefully by then, your little brain will figure out that the sun is a naturally occurring phenomenon and you won't be freaked out by it.

Anyway, Thursday night when we put you down to sleep, your nose was a little gurgly... and it really didn't surprise us when you woke up after a couple of hours cuz you couldn't breathe. The only things we can do for you right now is run a humidifier in your room - something we've done since the day you were born - and use Little Noses saline drops and a bulb syringe to suction out all the snot. And there's a LOT of snot right now. I feel so bad for you whenever we have to suction... you HATE it. But you also hate not being able to breathe. It's sort of sixes for you right now, kid.

Friday, we decided to let you sleep in the swing overnight... hoping that you being in more of a reclined position would help the drainage. You've always slept well in your swing, so we figured it was a no-brainer. But, again... you were up every three hours. You haven't been up every three hours at night since you were just a teeny-tiny screaming bundle of nerves, baby girl. It's very distressing for both you and us.

Saturday, we put you back in the Pack and Play to see if it was just the swing that was bothering you. Nope... you were again up every three hours. The problem is that you have a Poorly Timed Sneeze which wakes you up. And then you think: "Hey... I'm up and I'm a leetle hungry...... MOM!!!!!!!!!!!"

We came back home today and you pretty much slept the whole way home. Although you did have about 30 minutes or so of some pretty serious fussing. See, your general "fussiness" includes about two squawks and then you'll either fall asleep or smile and forget about what you were so upset about. So 30 minutes? Unheard of. You just don't feel so good, baby girl. And I feel so bad for you.

Tonight, you were so fussy and upset because of your cold that the only way you'd go to sleep was on Daddy's chest. Let it be understood right now, Hazel, you are SUCH a Daddy's girl. And he loves it. In fact, after I gave you a bath and attempted to nurse you down as is our normal routine... even when we were in St. George... it was Daddy who finally had to come take care of business and lull you to sleep with the Daddy Special. Something that Mommy has not yet been able to replicate.

I'm hoping that tonight is the worst of the cold and that tomorrow you'll begin to rebound. I have a feeling that it's going to be a very long night for everyone in our house... but mostly for you. But I must say that given your cold and the travel and just not feeling very good? You are a superstar. You have handled this cold with grace... trust me when I tell you that I get way more irritable when I have a cold than you have been. And we won't even talk about how your Daddy gets!

Well... Mommy and Daddy are wiped and I expect you to be up in a couple of hours so we're going to head to bed. We will be praying that you start to feel better, baby girl. It breaks my heart to know that other than just giving comfort, I can't make this better. Your crying tonight has been like a flashback to the first five weeks of your life. Only this time, there is actually something wrong. I didn't think anything could be more frustrating than a baby that cries for no reason... turns out, not being able to help a crying baby who is crying for a specific reason is 10 times harder.


Monday, January 18, 2010

How Not To Spend Your Three-Day Weekend

Or, I could just call this How Not To Spend Your Baby's Three-Month Birthday.

I distinctly remember the last time I got sick. Well... sick enough to warrant writing about it. January 31, 2006. Yea.. I know. I'm into specifics that way. I remember it because I was watching the State of the Union address and felt like I'd swallowed an elbow. Three weeks and three doctor visits later, we got the lovely news that I had whooping cough. Cuz THAT'S a normal disease to come down with.

Since then, I've been pretty bulletproof. Aside from an occasional cold or allergy, I've pretty much been invincible. Even during the pregnancy, I never threw up and only had the one day of serious nausea. Even Benny coming down with walking pneumonia in the weeks before and after Hazel came into our lives didn't phase me. BULLETPROOF, I tell you.

But the bullet finally pierced the armor Friday night. I'm not one to throw up. In fact, the last time I threw up was over 8 years ago after a Halloween party. And we'll just leave it at that because my parents read this and what they don't want to know... well, they just don't want to know. Right dad?

Anyhoo, Friday around 4 p.m., I started to feel a little drained. I had just picked up Hazey from day care and just didn't have the energy to be a good mommy and interact with her. How terrible is that? So, I broke my number one rule of using the car as a means to lull her to sleep and took a couple of loops around a nearby park and baby girl was out. Then I decided to stop at Kaffe Merc and grab a coke to get a caffeine hit and maybe read a book while Hazel was sleeping. She always does well in the car seat so I figured I was in for at least an hours worth of reading. But, Hazey threw a curveball and woke up all happy and stuff and ready to party. Since I don't like to leave her in the car seat when she's awake, I decided to take her home and hang out.

But two hours later, I was feeling worse and couldn't wait for Benny to get home so I could just relax. Hazel's been having longer wake periods as of late so trying to put her down is getting harder and harder. Plus, you know... she's discovered her hands. And that her hands can push away the blanket that we secure to her chin to keep the binkie in... which has been our go-to for the last month or so. So, after an hour of trying (and failing miserably) to get baby girl down, I was more than happy for Benny to come home and give it a try. But, I decided that she probably needed a feeding first so I took her to her room and nursed. Right about then is when I should have gotten concerned because while I was feeding her, I got really, really dizzy.

Benny gave Hazel her bath and a bottle while I laid down in bed and waited for him to finish so we could talk about our days. But when he came in, the only thing I had to say about my day was that I wasn't feeling so hot. Thirty minutes later, after moaning and groaning and fighting the urge to toss my cookies and effectively ruining my 8-year streak, I decided that the only possible thing that could make me feel better would be a good purge.

This, my friends, was the beginning of the end. Because once the demon was let loose... it. did. not. stop. I threw up every 10 minutes for the next hour or so and had a nice little case of the runs to go with it. And this is where I thank God again that our little girl is such a great sleeper because the yacking that was going on in the bathroom right next to her room was not something that was quiet or dignified in anyway. I'm pretty sure that I woke up half the neighborhood while I was neck deep in the toilet. But not my Hazey.

We debated going to the ER.... a question that becomes harder when you've got a little one to think of. After I threw up one more time, I gave Benny the green light to call my sister to come over and watch Hazel while we went to the ER, but KC had her phone off and we couldn't get through. We tried calling the neighbors across the street, but they weren't home. Luckily, our next door neighbor's lights were still on and he's known to be a bit of a night-owl, so we figured he would be okay just hanging out while we made a "quick" trip to the ER. Cuz those kinds of trips are always quick, right? RIGHT.

On the way to the hospital, I was dry heaving so hard that I was pretty sure I had pooped my pants. I hadn't, thank goodness... but I was THIS CLOSE. Since I hadn't had dinner, the only thing that was in my stomach to throw up was a little bit of coke and a sugar cookie from Kaffe Merc... and since the sugar cookie was HUGE, there was plenty of that to throw up. But after an hour of throwing up? Nothing left in there... not even bile.

Surprisingly enough, when we got to the ER it wasn't that busy and I was able to go right back to a room. All the while dry heaving uncontrollably. The doc got me on an IV and gave me some anti-nausea meds that helped and they let me just hang out there for a while. I asked for some blankets as I was pretty cold and then they left me to just re-hydrate. Right about then, Benny started throwing up and they had to get him checked-in as well.

So, there we were... Hazel's mommy and daddy hooked up to IV's, two rooms down from each other. This was NOT what we expected. We had expected some IV's for me and some anti-nausea meds and then we'd head home. But... not so much. When the time came to discharge me, the nurse took one more round of vitals and saw that I had a fever of 102. When I'd come in two hours earlier, my temp was normal. And then my blood pressure, which had been normal upon checking in was hovering around 87/43. They made me take off the blankets, which led to more shivering. The doc came in and told me that other than gastroenteritis, he just wasn't sure what was wrong with me. They discharged Benny after only one IV as his temp was still normal... but he was still dry heaving. They gave him some phenegran to take when he got home for the nausea but he couldn't take it if he was driving. So, after I ordered him to take it (that's right... I ordered him), we called my uncle and asked if he could come pick Benny up and when my temp came down, I'd just drive home.

Yea... we were dreamers back then. At 2 a.m.

By 3 a.m., my temp had gone up to 103 and my blood pressure was still low, so they decided to admit me. And the process for that only took 90 minutes. Which was spent with me having a fever of anywhere between 100 and 103 while listening to the sounds of a little boy screaming in pain. I think he may have been in a car accident. It was awful.

When they finally wheeled me up to the medical unit, it was 4:30 in the morning, and I realized that I probably needed to pump as I hadn't fed or pumped since about 6:30 p.m. While they were locating a pump for me to use, the nurse asked about my history of EVERYTHING. And the answer to every single question was "NO". Even the question: "Would you like any financial consultation?"

You know what? Yea... it's 5 a.m., I've been awake for 23 hours and I feel awful, but yes... LET'S TALK FINANCES.

I mean, really! Is this actually a question they are required to ask? For the love of Pete, I've been awake for going on 23 hours now, and the only thing that's keeping me from tossing my cookies right now is that I've already tossed whatever cookies I once had and there's nothing left to toss other than maybe my kidneys... and the hospital thinks this might be related to money worries? FOR. THE. LOVE.

That first night was pretty rough. My fever would not go down and I alternated between deep, all-consuming chills and soaking the bed with my sweat. It seemed like every couple of hours a nurse or tech would come in to check my vitals or draw blood. And then the IV computer would start beeping for no reason every hour or so... and nothing I could say to the nurses made them realize that THIS WAS DRIVING ME INSANE and could you please do something about it when I call you rather than wait 10 minutes so that brain matter actually leaks out of my ears before you come fix it? THANKS.

Saturday morning, I felt terrible. The doc that was on call ordered more tests and a CAT Scan of my abdomen. But he was very forthcoming in saying that he had no idea what was wrong with me. And, again... the fever was constant. Bonus, though.... I was in the V-I-P Room. Also known as I-S-O-L-A-T-I-O-N. Which may explain why all the docs and nurses had to wear a mask and gloves when they came into the room. Which is always a good sign, no? They also put me on two serious antibiotics just to cover their bases. And I think I've made it clear in the past how well antibiotics and I get along, right? RIGHT.

Later that afternoon, Benny called to tell me that he wasn't feeling great and that his temp was at 101. I told him to go to the ER where they ended up giving him three bags of saline to combat his dehydration. And that only took... oh, 7 hours or so.

I had the CAT Scan Saturday night after drinking that stupid dye that may or may not have caused me to poop the bed unexpectedly. But since giving birth, I no longer have any semblance of dignity, so it really was no big deal. The CAT Scan turned up nothing. But I will note that although I didn't think it was possible to get hotter, when they injected the dye into my IV, I almost cried. I mean, the tech told me it was going to get warm, but when you're already at 103 degrees.... how much warmth would I actually be able to feel? One guess. I think that the tech should be aware that there IS a different between a "little warm" and "your insides will feel like molten lava". Perhaps she could be a little more specific next time so I can mentally prepare myself.

Saturday night, we got some encouraging news. My temp had gone down to 100 and my blood pressure was inching upward. I called Benny and told him the news and told him I felt like I was on the mend. Although, after hanging up I told the nurse that in a couple of hours, I would probably be back at 102.

You know... sometimes it sucks to be RIGHT all the time. At 1:30 a.m., I woke up shivering. I knew that the nurses wouldn't give me an extra blanket because the shivering meant my fever was up. And any smart person would take the professionals at their recommendation, but I was desperate and had to try. So I buzzed the desk and hoped for the best. And I scored when some rookie CNA came in and gave me TWO WHOLE EXTRA BLANKETS!! Not that it made things better by any means (and yes... probably made it worse)(and yes... I probably owe that poor CNA an apology as I'm sure she got in trouble) as the shivering was so bad that I couldn't open my hands. I remember distinctly that my hips and legs hurt from the tremors and I remember trying to think the shivering away and trying to think the fever away. My brain specifically told my body to get over the shivers and get over the fever... and then my body specifically responded to said request from my brain with the equivalent of a: Bitch, please. Who do you think you are?

I also remember three nurses in my room trying to take my vitals and that they couldn't get a read on my blood pressure cuz I was shaking so badly. I remember them asking me to try not to shake. RIGHT... cuz really, at this point, I'M IN CONTROL.

I remember a doctor coming in and feeling my stomach. They seemed to do a lot of that while I was hospitalized. And then after that, I don't remember much. Apparently, my temp had gone up to 104. I don't know what finally stopped the shivering. I do know that two hours after that, I woke up because that damn IV computer started beeping again and when I called for a nurse, it took them FOREVER to come fix it. And the beeping just kept getting louder and louder. And then a lab tech came in to draw more blood... and still the beeping. The lab tech wasn't allowed to shut it off, and no one was coming in to make it stop and I just couldn't believe that all of this was happening. And I hit my breaking point and sobbed. And sobbed. And sobbed.

When my nurse finally got to me, she rubbed my arm and asked me what was wrong. What was wrong? Please. Tell me, what is RIGHT about this situation? I've been in the hospital since Friday night, we don't know what's wrong with me, I haven't seen my baby since Friday and I'm worried sick that she'll come down with what I have, I actually pooped my pants, I've been poked and prodded beyond belief, my husband is sick and I can't sleep because I'm either too hot, too cold or the damn computer beeps and no one comes to turn it off! Are you really asking me what is wrong??????

Looking back on it now, I believe that the fever broke me before I broke the fever. Because after I went back to sleep and woke up around 9 a.m., the nurse told me my temp was normal but that I'd need to stay in the hospital another day for observation. When Benny came to see me Sunday, I felt much better. My lips didn't match the color of my skin anymore and I was able to walk around the corridors of the hospital.

In the end, the doctors still don't know what was wrong with me. I feel terrible though, because my sister, who had come over to the house to disinfect anything and everything that could possibly have caused this whole little situation, had to go to the ER last night because she was throwing up and exhibiting the same symptoms as me. Apparently, the people in the ER are well aware of who I am and I'm quite the talk of the hospital. And you know what? Unless this disease lands me on the Oprah show, that's not how I'd like to find my fame and fortune in this life.

Luckily, my sister didn't end up with the fever that I did and her blood pressure is fine so she didn't have to spend too much time in the ER. But now I'm even more worried for Hazel. For her to catch whatever we had, and specifically whatever I had, would be the end of the world. For real.

I go in for more tests on Wednesday. Apparently, my liver numbers are too high, but they've already ruled out hepatitis. And if my temp spikes again or I start vomiting again, I have to go back to the ER. So, I've got that going for me.

So, Hazel... let this be a lesson to you. When you have a baby of your own and she goes to bed early one night, do not, for the love of God, sit around and pick your nose. In fact, probably a good idea to just stay away from picking your nose ever.

Finally, I'd like to thank everyone for their thoughts and prayers. Special thanks to my parents and my sister for taking care of Hazey while Benny and I were indisposed. And thank you to our neighbor Mike and my Uncle Creig for stepping up to help. You all made this tough situation bearable.

And now... after I've written a novel and have actually left out the most disgusting parts of the weekend, I'm going to take a nap.

Thursday, January 14, 2010

A Tale of Two Boobs

For the last couple of weeks, Hazel's bedtime routine begins around 8:45, with a bath and then I nurse her down to sleep. I've been thinking lately, though, that her needing to nurse to fall asleep might not be the greatest thing since sliced bread... because that means that I HAVE to be there to put her down or she'll cry in her crib and both Benny and I can't help but think that means WE ARE THE WORST PARENTS IN THE WORLD. Also, last night I started in a volleyball league and every Wednesday night for the next few weeks, I probably won't be there to put her to bed... (side note: GASP!!!!)

Anyway, with these thoughts in mind, Benny and I decided to see if he could get her to sleep without my help. Or rather, help from "The Twins". So, Tuesday night after bath time, I gave Hazey a kiss goodnight, and Benny pulled out Goodnight, Moon to read to her... along with an emergency bottle in case the book didn't work.

And no... the book didn't work. But two ounces of formula did. Well, two ounces of formula and two attempts at the "Daddy Special" worked. And 8 hours later... Hazel finally woke up!!! I mean... 8 hours? I'm used to putting her to sleep at 9:15ish, and getting up at 4ish for another quick nip (no pun intended)(well, maybe a little pun intended), and then waking back up at 7:30ish for the day. What I'm NOT used to is having Benny put her down and then having her sleep all. night. long.

Seriously... our baby girl is a ROCK. STAR. And that's not even the most amazing thing about the new routine. Last night when I got home from my volleyball game at 8 p.m., Hazey was already enjoying a luxurious bath. And after the bath and an ounce of formula... our little girl fell asleep at 8:35... and didn't wake up until 6:45. That's right ladies and gentlemen: 10 hours and 10 minutes.


Of course, yours truly didn't get the same quality hours. Partly because 8:35 snuck up on both Benny and I so quickly we didn't know what to do with ourselves so we just stared at each other and picked our noses for a good hour. And partly because my breasts weren't ready for Hazey to throw down a 10 hour stint and I woke up at 5 a.m.... HUGE. Painfully huge. Painfully huge to the point that the only semi-comfortable position I could find was laying flat on my back and trying not to breathe to hard, lest the air exhaled would hit them like a cool breeze over the Andes mountains. And since they actually were the Andes Mountains by that time... well, it just wasn't working.

The situation didn't improve when the phone rang at 6:30 and I had to "roll" over to Benny's side of the bed to answer it. (Roll? Please. More like flopped, screamed in pain because the boobs could not support my full weight.) It was his boss wondering where he was. Where he was was in the kitchen having breakfast... apparently, there was a communications breakdown as to what time they were starting work today. Benny thought they were starting at 8:30 a.m.... when really they were starting at God-Forsaken:30.

But, I digress. Let's continue to talk about my huge boobs. When I got up out of bed to hand the phone to Benny, I ran into the door with my left porn star. Have any of you ever run into a door while completely engorged at God-Forsaken:30? OMG. I'm not a dude. But I would have to imagine that the pain that comes along with making THAT mistake has to be comparable to getting kicked in the family jewels. And then having them set on fire.

I was doubled over in pain, stumbling to the kitchen, holding the phone in one hand, my boob in the other and trying not to cry too loudly lest I wake the child. And/or have Benny's boss hear me sobbing in boob pain.

Benny was all: "What's wrong with you?"

And I was all: "Oh... I dunno. You are late for work thus causing me THE MOST INCREDIBLE PAIN IN THE WORLD. And me... with no epidural. YOU ARE TO BLAME!"

Well, to be fair... he and HIS BOSS are to blame. Blame must be assessed somewhere. We can't blame the child.


Cuz she just pulled a 10-hour stint, beyotches!! She's freakin' golden!

Monday, January 11, 2010

In a Constant State of Surprise

It doesn't matter that Hazel has had a camera in her face for most of her short life.

Every day.

For hours and hours.

She has the most beautiful smile in the world, but whenever we go to take a picture of our smiling sweetie, she stops smiling and stares at it in confusion and awe. This has produced a serious shortage of smiley face pictures for us.

But when the result ends up looking like this...

.... well, I've got NO complaints.

Monday, January 4, 2010


Dear Hazel,
January 4th, 2010. A day that will live in infamy.

Two notables for today. First, you slept through the night. Like... SERIOUSLY through the night. Not a go to bed at 11 and wake up at 4 or 5, "through the night" as is your norm. But go to bed at 9:45 and have to be awoken by me at 7:10. Otherwise known at 9.5 hours!!! And, honestly... had I not had to wake you up to get ready to go to day care, you would probably have slept 10 hours. TEN. WHOLE. HOURS. In a ROW.

And, and, AND... the night before that? You slept for 8 hours in a row. Back-to-back nights of solid sleep is unheard of with you!! I mean, sure, sure... you slept 8.5 hours the night after your first round of immunizations... but I can't really count that. You were sleeping off a really bad disease hangover. But this? THIS was all on your own. Unassisted. It was magic.

Oh... and bonus feature: Guess who didn't have a wet diaper this morning? I mean... are you attempting the unthinkable? Sleeping through the night and potty training yourself... AT THE SAME TIME??? Are you really that amazing? Cuz I'm thinkin'... YOU. TOTALLY. ARE.

Anyhoo... I, unfortunately, didn't rock 9.5 hours myself because I was up all night worrying/obsessing/feeling guilty for the other notable for today: Sending you to day care.

I'll be the first to admit that 6 weeks ago? I was looking forward to sending you to day care. Mostly because I was at the end of my rope, wondering what to do with you and thinking that someone else - ANYONE else, really - would likely do a much better job of taking care of you because I had yet to figure you out. I had certainly not figured out how to keep you from screaming bloody murder from sun up to sun down.

But the last six weeks? Amazing. You are such a beautiful spirit. You are soooo happy and you adapt to pretty much any situation. We have become totally mobile with you and even took you to a college basketball game on New Year's Day. And you only cried once when the announcer got a bit too excited on a play and boomed his voice over the system a BIT. TOO. LOUDLY.... right as you were about to fall asleep and you startled and started crying. I couldn't blame you... it scared me, too!

So, this morning when I had to rouse you out of a solid slumber and get you fed and dressed for the day, I was trying to keep a brave face on so that you wouldn't feed off of my anxiety. Your father went to the office late this morning so that he could be my shoulder to cry on and he watched you while I quietly sobbed in the shower. Then, as I put my makeup on... I kept staring at my reflection in the mirror and thinking that I couldn't believe that this day was upon us and here I was, getting ready for work for the first time since you'd entered our lives... and how could I possibly be sending you to someone else to care for you??? How is this about to become my new, new normal?

You were absolutely amazing this morning. We got you changed and in the car with no issues... and by the time we got to day care... which only took us 10 minutes or so... you were fast asleep. This, however, did not make leaving you any easier.

I don't remember much from this morning's drop-off... because I was sobbing uncontrollably and even your dad couldn't comfort me. Me. The mother who felt like she was choosing her career over her child. Thank God you weren't awake to see the spectacle I made of myself. It would have embarrassed you. But really... who are we kidding here? The birthing process left me with zero dignity... so it's not like I lost it at your day care.

I came to see you on my lunch break. When I walked in, one of the workers was holding you in your blanket and you were sound asleep with the pacifier in your mouth, holding it against her chest. This technique, by the way, has NEVER worked for me. But then again, you would never confuse me with your average Baby Whisperer that works at the day care. She saw me and thought it would be a good idea for me to hold you. Which... yea... I knew what would happen. You woke up immediately and started screaming bloody murder. That's what you do sometimes when you're tired. I finally got you calmed back down and you took a couple of cat naps in my arms before you woke up for real and needed to be fed.

After your feeding, I gave you back to Frankie and headed back to work. Tell me something, Hazey... why is it that when the staff at day care swaddle you, you LOVE it and go to sleep in the crib. But when I swaddle you, you cry and kick yourself out of it and REFUSE to sleep in your crib during the day? Hmmm?????? Just more proof that even though I think I know you... I clearly still have no idea.

Anyway, I picked you up at 4:45 and came home tonight. You didn't seem any worse for wear... you were happy and were wide awake after your feeding... even though you'd basically been awake for 2.5 hours and you usually lose your mind after about 1.5 hours of wake time. So... I guess that we'll just have to figure out the new schedule that has already been developed after one day at day care. I mean, usually during the day, I can count on at least two long naps of at least 2.5 hours. Today, you had two hour long naps, and a couple of 30 minute naps. I wonder how that's going to affect your sleep tonight. Will you sleep through the night again? Will you be that easy of a baby?

Only time will tell. For now, I'll just watch you nap in your swing and hope that you don't sleep too long and push back your bedtime. Mama's tired, baby girl. You may not have had a rough day... but I did.


Friday, January 1, 2010

Happy New Year!!

Because we wanted to give her something to show her therapist one day.