Sick But Sweet

The cold has made it's rounds. My brother and sister-in-law got it. Christian got it. Kiddo got it. And of course, now I have it. I slept for 5 hours before waking up with a totally stuffed nose. Needless to say, hours later, I was still awake and trying to clear my head.

This didn't bother Christian or Kiddo. Every time I blew my nose, they kept on snoozing. Eventually Kiddo wanted to nurse. We did and then he went back to sleep while I suffered being awake. And then as I sat in bed, propped by pillows, Kiddo rolled over and wrapped his arms around me. It didn't matter if I moved, played on my phone, or blew my nose. He stayed cuddled up to me.

I just love this sweet boy.

A New Birthday

Last night my niece was born. She was 8 lbs 11 oz and 20 inches. She was alert and eager to eat. My sister-in-law (SIL) was fine, but exhausted.

I am proud of my SIL. She was induced for a medical reason and she fought hard to have as natural a birth as possible. Of course, induction makes things harder because a woman's body isn't ready. Of course she went to the hospital. They monitored her in every way and things moved slowly. She wasn't allowed to eat except gelatin and ice chips.

Things moved along and her body wasn't quite as ready as my niece was to be born. More augmentation was needed. An epidural brought the process to a head and my niece was born vaginally.

My SIL did sooooo well during her contractions. She did so well the entire time. It was the first time I have seen birth (in person) from that perspective - the one supporting, not birthing. More than ever I am convinced that birth is the pinnacle of femininity and feminine power.

I am convinced that we, as women, need to claim our birthright (in every sense of the word). Our birthing needs to be respected, treasured, and guarded.

I was appalled at the words coming out of doctors and nurses as I supported my SIL. They talked flippantly  about how crazy natural birth is and how impossible it is for a woman to give birth in that manner. They talked about how God gave us drugs so we could use them (equating them with Round-Up to eradicate weeds...riiiight. Exactly.). They said these things despite the fact my SIL wanted natural birth and she was trying so hard to achieve it. Maybe they were trying to make her feel better about taking an epidural, I don't know. It felt like they just wanted her on the drugs even before it became clear what path the birth would take.

I thought we were supposed to support laboring women. I thought we were supposed to do what is best in each and every birth. Call me crunchy, but I thought there were reasons for natural birth - just like there are reasons for medical intervention! The process isn't pain - it's muscle contraction and stretching. Muscle contraction and stretching needs drugs? This implies every time we workout to failure, we need narcotics.

Wait, what?

But this is the logic.

It ignores the gifts this process gives women and babies. It ignores the millennia behind this process. It ignores the fact this is the supreme moment of feminine power and takes it away from us.

Sorry. No. I don't accept that.

I am so proud of my SIL - all the work she did. She was so good through the process. I am so glad she got her vaginal birth. I knew she could do it. I knew she would do it. After all, that is what our bodies were made for.

...And Many More: 1 Year Well Baby Visit

12 Month Molar Drool!

Well, Kiddo is now up-to-date. He had his 12 month well baby visit on Wednesday and we got his stats:

30.75 inches long
22 lbs 14 oz
18.25 cm around his noggin

He's just above the 50% according to the clinic. I'm not sure if that's all babies, or just breastfed babies. They didn't get into that. All I know is that Kiddo is now just slightly above average in size.

I knew his growth would peter out, but I didn't realize how sharply it would drop off. To go from 90% at birth to 50% a year later seems crazy...except of course, he's normal. Everyone has always said he was perfectly normal, which is good when talking development. You want normal. I feel blessed to have normal. I really do.

Part of me thinks exceptional would be bigger, or smaller, and it would, but maybe exceptional is also smack dab in the middle. Average is how beauty is determined - the average sized nose is ideal. The average sized eyes is perfect. The average cheek bone is desirable. Not too much, not too little - each body part has a Goldie Locks zone.

Kiddo is the archetype of Goldie Locks when it comes to his body. I mean, he does have really small feet (Is that a thing for guys in mainland China? If it is, I think Kiddo could totally win that game!) and his torso is slightly longer and, okay, his hips are kind of wide... but that's nit picking. Just a cursory glance and you'd think this kid is perfect. And really, that's what parents want. That's what I wanted.

The crazy active nursing that involves butts hiked high into the air and legs going straight up past my ears is no thang compared to having a developmentally on target kid. The sassiness and explosive temper tantrums that began at 9 months or so is not a problem at all. I don't mind.

I don't mind because Kiddo hits every milestone like clockwork. My pregnancy was like that too. Everything was textbook when it came to the nausea coming  or going, the kicks being felt, his measurements in the ultrasounds etc etc. In many ways, the whole process has been perfectly average. And I thank GOD every day that it is. With everything else topsy turvy in my life, I couldn't handle Kiddo being sick. I would break. Permanently.

And because I can't handle Kiddo being sick, I was even more grateful for the series of expensive vaccines he got courtesy of MediCal. Because of insurance issues throughout his short life, Kiddo was behind on his shots. It really bothered me. I'm not one of those women who doesn't believe in scientific inquiry. On the contrary, I read and research a ton about various aspects of child health so that I can make informed decisions.

I'd like Kiddo to not die of a preventable illness, or become deaf, or sterile, or crippled for life because I was too crazy not to vaccinate. That is not a gamble I'm willing to make. Not even remotely. So I don't cry when I have to hold Kiddo still so he can get both thighs and arms pricked while he's screaming his head off. I feel relieved when he has a low grade fever and a little bruise next to the injection site because he has an injection site.

Happy Birthday Baby!

...and thanks Obama.

I have to thank the President once again for making health care available to the pleblic. Kiddo might be naturally healthy and perfect to look at, but I need a little help to keep him that way. It's nice to know I won't have to worry about something as important as my child's health.

Night Nursing Happens

If you're planning on breastfeeding - which you should because of a gazillion benefits to mom and baby - you need to be prepared.

I don't know why people are delusional when it comes to feeding schedules, but they are, particularly at night. I have read all kinds of things about night feedings. I have read about the time babies should sleep through the night (Sleep through the night?! What does this even mean?!). Some people say babies should stop night nursing at 6 months. Some say 9. Others a year.

Here's the thing folks - the average breastfed human baby across the world doesn't self wean (day or night) until anywhere between 3 and 5 YEARS. That's NORMAL.

Ahem.

That means everyone talking about months is just plumb crazy. Get over the month thing! It's not happening. Get comfy! The baby belongs at the breast and the toddler too! Day and night!

My family makes fun of Kiddo saying he'll nurse until he's a teen. Well...that is another kind of crazy and NOT happening. He'll wean on his own some time in the next few years...just as all human babies do. And I will be sad when that happens.

I will be sad because I like night nursing. I like the cuddling and closeness. I like the sweetness. I like that Kiddo will curl up to me even if he's warm and I'm cold. I like his satisfied sigh as if everything is right in the world.

And it is. I can tell it is when he wakes up with a smile on his face and blows me kisses. Then he snuggles in close to sing to me. These are the moments mothers live for. Night nursing is totally worth it.

Singing Baby

Speaking of Kiddo's antics... here he is singing.

Happy Birthday Baby! A First Year Retrospective

It's been a year. I've been a mom for a year. It seems crazy. I mean, I feel like yesterday I gave birth (Okay, well maybe not yesterday. You know, I can sit down comfortably and I'm not using a sitz bath...thank GOD!) and now Kiddo is threatening to walk!

My smooshy newborn love

It's pretty wild that a year go, Kiddo was a red, smoosh-faced sleepy, poopy, floppy newborn. This is especially wild considering that now he has some words, plays jokes, chases, laughs, sings, and dances (with help). It's crazy that he can climb up and down stairs, pets Java the Cat when he's sleepy, and cuddles his stuffed animals that he makes babble. It's crazy that he poses for pictures.

It's been a crazy year. Our family has suffered a lot during Kiddo's first year of life. We've experienced tremendous financial hardship (and we're still working to remove that burden). We sacrificed independence and pride and moved in with my parents. I underwent a lot of personal exploration and development, which also forced a lot of issues within my marriage which had been quietly festering. These things forced Christian to confront his choice of profession (and the resulting difficulties), as well as his role as husband and father.

My active charming 1 year wonder

Meanwhile, Kiddo was largely unaware of these things. He, despite everything, grew and even thrived. Everywhere we go, people comment on his charming nature. They adore his sweet smiles, waves, singing, and even his more spectacular antics (more about those in subsequent posts).

While this year has been difficult, it was also full of joy, wonder, and laughter. Kiddo is an amazing and unusual kid who prefers vegetables to fruit, syncopated rhythms, and entertaining anyone who is wiling to watch him for longer than 2 seconds. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

Happy Birthday Baby! We love you so much.