You Brought a Baby Where?!

Sometimes I see people with a brand-new baby in a wildly inappropriate place -- like, say, a baseball game or a bar -- and I wonder whether those parents were so desperate to regain some semblance of their former life that they thought, "Intense sun exposure and second-hand smoke be damned, we're bringing the baby!"

Now, I'm not one to talk. My son's very first outing was to an Irish pub to celebrate my birthday. We sat on the patio and propped him up next to a pint of Guinness for a photo opp. But at some point I realized that nursing in the car and changing diapers in ridiculously inconvenient changing stations in dirty public bathrooms was not how I wanted to spend my time.

Besides, while newborns are quite portable and often quiet, babies that are a little older are not. When Miles was about 5 mos. old we took him to a museum, where he screeched and bellowed the whole time because he liked the way it echoed throughout the silent, marble-floored galleries. Shockingly, no one asked us if we were interested in a museum membership that day.

If you feel you MUST get off the couch and out of your sweatpants for an outing with a small baby, here are some suggestions:

A street fair. If it’s not too hot or too crowded, an afternoon of al-fresco people-watching is a new-parent friendly activity. Especially if you carry your baby in a sling or carrier so you don’t have to worry about running into people’s ankles with a stroller. Of course, you must accept the inherent risks of eating street food and using a Porta-potty. Tip: bring lots of hand sanitizer.

An outdoor concert. And I don’t mean a Metallica cover band in a liquor-store parking lot. I’m thinking more along the lines of smooth jazz under the stars or Mozart in the park. Around here, there’s a popular Friday-night concert series with family-friendly reggae and Jimmy Buffet-type bands. Although, again: Porta-potties.

The zoo. If your baby’s old enough to see more than a foot in front of his face, he may enjoy looking at wildlife, especially animals like elephants and giraffes that are large enough for him to actually see. Or, he may be terrified of the chimpanzees. You won’t know till you try.

The mall. So it’s not exotic or educational. At least they have refreshments and indoor bathrooms. Plus, if there’s a Nordstrom’s or another upscale department store, you may find a clean, comfortable “mother’s room” where you can feed and change your baby without gagging.

Avoid places that are quiet and frequented by lots of old people. That may be the day your precious little one gets colic. And note that some places (like the aquarium in our city) ban strollers, so you may have to haul your hefty tot around in your arms all day.

If you really want my opinion, I say stay home. There will come a time soon enough when you’ll have to take your child to such insidious places as Chuck-E-Cheese and Gymboree. Why rush things?

LINK O' THE WEEK: For club-kids who grew up and had their own kids, Baby Loves Disco is like a nightclub for tots. Only during the day. And with snacks. I like the idea, but when it came to my area it was $60+ for a family of 4. Too steep, IMO. But check out the tour dates -- in some places it's free.

You WILL Sleep Again (Someday)

This morning I talked to a friend who had a baby 5 weeks ago. (Congrats again, M.C.! Thanks for inspiring today’s post.) She’s in the stage of new motherhood I affectionately call the “what the hell did I get myself into?” stage. The stage where the post-birth euphoria has worn off, your help has gone home, Daddy’s gone back to work, and the baby has decided to reveal her true colors.

The stage where you go, “Oh, THAT’S why people kept harping about getting my rest while I still could.” When you realize weeks of sleep deprivation really is that bad and WORSE. When you wonder how in the hell people can do this more than once, and what the heck you were thinking when you were all, “Sure! Great! Let’s have a baby! It’ll be FUN!”

My friend said something that made me laugh. Another woman in her new mom’s group said she sees people with toddlers and is in awe that anybody lasts that long. It’s so true. As a new mom, you can’t imagine making it through the next DAY, let alone the next 18+ years.

The people who come up to new moms and tell them to enjoy every minute because it goes so fast don’t realize how much they’re endangering themselves, making those comments to an unstable, sleep-deprived, possibly homicidal new mom. (Here’s my rant against those people.)

So how DO people survive the tough early stages of babyhood? And the arguably tougher stages that follow it? I’ll tell you how the BABIES survive. As my mom says, “God made babies cute so we wouldn’t leave them on a hillside.”

But seriously, the answer is -- you get used to it. Gradually, almost imperceptibly, you learn to function on much, MUCH less sleep. You begin to think of showering not as a daily necessity, but as an optional activity. You become a devotee of Drs. Karp, Weissbluth, and possibly Ferber. Through the process of trial and error, you figure out what your baby likes and doesn’t like. (My friend has already discovered what she calls “the magical fleece blanket.”)

Soon, you will think nothing of whipping out a boob in public and sniffing your baby’s butt. You may have long, passionate discussions about sleep schedules and nipple cream – with strangers. You consider it a good day if the baby “only” screamed for 3 hours or “only” woke up 4 times during the night. Coming in frequent contact with another person’s vomit and feces no longer fazes you. You simply dab at it with a baby wipe and go about your day.

Yep, life after baby is a strange new world, people.

Who was it that said, “If you’re going through hell, keep on going”? That’s pretty much all you can do. And believe it or not, it WILL get better. One day you’ll wake up with a jolt at 6 a.m. and realize the baby FINALLY slept through the night. One evening you’ll notice a strange sound in the house and realize the baby ISN’T screaming. And one night long, LONG after you’ve given birth, you may turn to your husband and not only NOT hate him anymore, but actually feel attracted to him again. I know -- crazy talk!!

But if it wasn’t true, how would the human race continue to reproduce? Because after the “what the hell did I get myself into?” stage eventually comes the “it wasn’t really so bad” stage. And that, my friends, is how you end up with Baby #2 and beyond. Consider yourselves warned.

TIP O’ THE WEEK: If you’re not intimately familiar with the 5 S’s, run -- don’t walk -- to Amazon.com and order The Happiest Baby on the Block DVD. (Not the book; new moms don’t have time to read!) Here’s the Cliff’s Notes version.

What’s Up, Chuck?

Behold, the Sultan of Spit-up. The Duke of Puke. Or as his dad calls him, Spewey Lewis. This baby’s motto is “What goes down, must come up.”

I can’t hold it against him, though. It runs in the family. When I was a baby, my grandmother dubbed me “Vesuvius” for my tendency to erupt like a volcano. Since birth, I’ve had the world’s weakest stomach. The tiniest thing -- a bumpy car ride, that airplane smell, job-interview jitters -- can set off my delicate digestive system. I was always the kid getting carsick in the back seat or missing a birthday party because of my anxious stomach.

I thought I would outgrow it, but not so much. I once got sick on a plane while I was traveling with Miles. Let me tell you, it’s not pretty to have to ask a stranger to hold your baby while you make use of the airsickness bag!

Strangely, I did not have much morning sickness during my pregnancies, though this time around I did suffer through 2 bouts of a stomach bug. Maybe that explains Riley’s penchant for puking?

Anyway, it creates daily fashion emergencies around here, as you can imagine. First, there’s the baby. If we’re going out or expecting company, I want him to look cute. But all too often, I’ll get him all dressed up and then -- splat! What really kills me are the consecutive spit-ups. Sometimes I don’t even get his shirt snapped before he soils it again. And again. And AGAIN. I wish he could just hurl once and forever hold his peace. At least for an hour or so. Anyway, all that’s left by the time our company comes are mismatched onesies and hand-me-down sleepers. SO not the first impression we’re looking to make!

Then there’s me. As it is, my wardrobe is seriously sparse. There’s only so many options when you a) haven’t lost all the baby weight, b) are nursing, and c) are getting constantly spit-up on. And some outfits solve a and b but not c, or vice versa. For instance, black is slimming but the worst color you could wear to camouflage spit-up stains. Patterned shirts are good, but if they don’t button down the front, you risk indecent exposure when it’s time to nurse. What’s a mom to do?

Sometimes I feel like I should just wear a hazmat suit. I wonder if they come in pastels?

QUOTE O’ THE WEEK: “Mo-o-om! Riley throwed up again! It shooted out of his mouf like this -- bleh! bleh!”
- big brother Miles reenacting the scene

PIC O’ THE WEEK: He may be messy, but he sure is cute. Especially since he started smiling. Makes all that laundry worthwhile...

Sad News

I am generally not a fan of the “it could be worse” school of counseling. In my experience, reminding yourself or someone else who’s having a hard time that things could suck even more only diminishes their feelings, creates guilt, and makes them feel even more rotten.

Yesterday, however, I got a jarring reminder that no matter how difficult my days are right now, I’m very, very lucky in so many ways.

I was walking around soaked in spit-up 10 min. after my first shower in days, with the screeching culprit strapped to my chest as usual, feeling frustrated and guilty. For being so irritated by the constant crying of my newborn that I buckled him into his swing last night and let him scream while I had a glass of wine and watched “Access Hollywood.” For yelling at my almost 3-year-old son for hiding behind the couch and pooping in his Pull-Up YET AGAIN literally 2 min. after sitting on the potty, insisting he didn’t have to go.

I called my parents to commiserate and my dad told me the news: a family friend had just lost one of her 2-mo.-old twins, apparently to SIDS. My heart broke.

I hesitated to post about this for many reasons. I know there are expectant and new moms reading this. My intention is not to scare people. SIDS is by definition a freak occurrence. It’s unexplained and asymptomatic. It affects just 1 in about 2,000 babies each year. If you’re putting your baby to sleep on his back as we all know you’re supposed to, there’s very little else you can do to prevent SIDS. But since I have the misfortune of knowing 2 people who’ve lost babies to SIDS, I feel compelled to address it here.

The first time I ever heard of SIDS was before I had kids, when it happened to a friend of a friend. I learned enough about it that by the time my first son was born, I was scared spitless. I grilled people at new-mom support groups about what type of blanket to swaddle my baby in and how to tell if he was choking or just gurgling. I found no answers, just more things to worry about. One group leader looked at me gently and said, “You have a new baby. Enjoy him.” Translation: Go home and stop making yourself crazy worrying about freak occurrences.

This time around, my reaction is different. I’m not going to change anything I’m doing with my newborn. I’m not going to go out and buy a top-of-the-line SIDS monitor or start sleeping with a fan on, per the latest SIDS-prevention recommendations. I’m going to be sad for my friend and so very grateful that I have a healthy, strong-lunged baby.

I’m also not going to list the ways to reduce the risk of SIDS; you can find that info here and lots of other places on the Internet. Instead, I will share this article on how to help someone who’s lost a baby to SIDS that I found on the web site of the Canadian Foundation for the Study of Infant Deaths. The main points are: listen, and let your friend know she’s not alone. No one ever “gets over” the death of their child, but most learn to live with it over time.

My friend has suffered a devastating loss. I can’t begin to understand what she and her family must be going through right now. But hearing her sad news has made an impact on how I look at my own situation. No, I’m not going to appreciate and enjoy every moment of motherhood. I think that’s unrealistic. But I am going to try to remember that all of life’s moments -- good and bad -- are fleeting. All we really have is the moment we’re in. And I’m going to spend it hugging my babies tight.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: First Candle is a nonprofit organization that offers support to grieving families and raises funds for SIDS research. Crisis counselors are available 24/7 by calling 800-221-7437. You can also make a donation in memory of someone.

New-Mom Amnesia

What’s that? Did somebody say something? I’m sorry, I couldn’t hear you. There’s a baby screaming in my ear. I also can’t smell anything, since I have a sinus infection and no use of my nostrils. At this point, I’m lucky I can still see through my puffy, half-shut eyes. Who needs all 5 senses, anyway?

As if that’s not enough, here’s another thing to make a new mom crazy: conflicting advice. I ran into my neighbor at the park yesterday, and she mentioned she had a 6-week-old niece. So we started comparing notes, and here’s what I found out:

• While my pediatrician insists the optimal indoor temperature for a newborn is between 70 and 72 degrees, her sister’s doctor claims that babies need to be kept in a cool room.
  

• While my baby wakes up every couple of hours demanding to be fed and won’t sleep longer than 2 hours at a time, her niece sleeps so long she has to be woken up to eat.
  

• While her niece rarely cries, my baby cries intermittently around the clock for no apparent reason. Is he cold? Hot? Hungry? Gassy? Damned if I know.
  

Besides the general cluelessness that goes along with having a new baby, here are some other Things I’d Forgotten:

• That newborns nurse 8-10 times a day, 2-4 hours apart, and that each feeding can take an entire hour by the time you do both boobs, burp and change the baby. So THAT’S what I do all day, in case you’re wondering.
  
  
• The wide variety of bodily fluids that are part of a new mom’s day.
  
  
• The laundry; my WORD, the laundry!
  
  
• The random, inconsolable fits of crying, usually around dinnertime. (By the baby.)
  
  
• The random, inconsolable fits of crying, at any time of day. (By me.) Those hormones are a bitch, I tell ya.
  
  
• That satiny, silky newborn skin. (That is, until the baby acne erupts.)
  
  
• That fuzzy, wuzzy newborn head. (Cradle cap notwithstanding.)
  
  
• How heavy that infant car seat is, no matter how small the infant you’re carrying in it is.

And yet, since this is my second child, there are also a whole new set of issues. Here’s What’s Different This Time Around:

• I don’t bolt out of bed at every noise the baby makes during the night. Just every third noise.
  
  
• Forget sleeping when the baby sleeps when there’s a 2-year-old around.
  
  
• I don’t change the baby’s diaper and outfit the minute they get dirty. What’s the rush?
  
  
• I can let the baby cry for a minute or two without feeling like my heart is being torn out with rusty grill tongs.
  
  
• I have no choice but to let the baby cry sometimes; say, when my older son yells, “Mom! I need help on the potty!” or “Is that smoke?”
  
  
• Whereas last time I had taken several hundred pictures of the baby by this point, I have gone entire days without photographing my second child.
  

Hey, do you hear that? It’s the sound of … silence. Either that or I’ve gone deaf.

LINK O’ THE WEEK: Constant product recalls. Add that to the list of what makes a new mom crazy. The latest is drop-side cribs. Read this, too.

Oh, Brother!

Somehow, I got lulled into a false sense of security. Maybe because I’m a second-time mom? Maybe because we confidently left the hospital a day early, convinced we knew the drill? Maybe because baby Riley seemed so laid back those first few days? Why, there was one day last week when I managed to shower, nap, cook dinner, and update my blog ALL IN THE SAME DAY. Yeah, well...

Let’s just say we’ve taken one step forward and 2 or 3 steps back. The grandparents have gone home, the pre-made meals are almost all eaten, the formerly chill baby has become nocturnal, and the novelty of being a big brother has started to wear off for Miles.

At first, this big brother gig was better than Christmas. Most of the gifts arriving at our house are not for the baby, but for Miles. Fair enough; he’s the one old enough to notice. He’s now added to his fleet of toys a safari boat, a remote-control construction truck, and an enormous battery-powered space shuttle complete with a bazillion separate parts and action figures. Thanks, Dad.

Miles’ reaction when he visited me and the baby in the hospital was adorable. My mom brought him in, proudly sporting his “I’m a Big Brother” T-shirt. His eyes open wide with wonder, he made a beeline for the bassinet, pulled up a chair, and climbed up to peer in at his new baby brother. “He’s so tiny!” Miles said. Then he proceeded to try to pry open the baby’s eyes and mouth to see what color his eyes were and whether he had any teeth.

Once we got home, things went pretty smoothly. First, because my mom devoted all her attention to Miles, so he barely even noticed the baby was getting most of mine. And of course, all the new toys helped keep him busy. Second, Miles is (thankfully) a heavy sleeper, so he wasn’t disturbed by the baby’s cries at night or during naps.

So far, Miles’ interactions with his little brother mainly involve him coming over to the bouncy seat or bassinet and cooing, “He’s so cuuuute!” and attempting to kiss or hug the baby. I try in vain to explain that crushing an 8 lb. newborn with one’s entire body weight is perhaps not the best way to show affection. But hey, it’s better than hitting the baby over the head with a truck, right?

Also, Miles likes to show his little brother his toys. And by “show,” I mean he sticks the toy half an inch away from the baby’s eyeball. “Miles, Miles! Back up, buddy. Give Riley some space,” I tell him. He likes to watch me change Riley’s diaper, but doesn’t like it when the baby cries. More than once, I’ve turned around to grab a wipe and found Miles holding his hand over the baby’s mouth. “Miles!! You can’t do that!” I shout. “But I just want him to stop crying,” he explains, all wide-eyed and innocent.

Miles does seem proud of his new big brother title, though. He often tells people, a propos nothing, “I have a new baby. I’m a big brother.” (Which he pronounces “bruh-zher.”) One morning, my mom asked him whether he’d like a big muffin or a mini muffin for breakfast. “I want a big muffin. I’m a big brother!” he announced. Of course.

I sense Miles’ patience is wearing thin, though, especially now that his devoted admirers (aka grandparents) have gone home. In his defense, it IS hard for me to do everything I used to with him now that I have a baby attached to me nearly 24/7. It’s hard to kick a soccer ball/play hide & seek/read to him in the rocking chair now that another little guy is sharing my time, attention, and lap.

Not to mention the fact that the baby tricked us into thinking he was a mellow, laid-back fellow, only to start the 2 a.m. fussing a few days in. So while Miles wakes up bright-eyed and full of energy each morning, Mom and Dad are stumbling around sleep-walking. But as our pediatrician and all those “Party in my crib: 3 a.m.” onesies will attest, this is the norm for newborns.

It’s an adjustment, people. That’s for sure. We have our good days (like the one I described above), and our bad days (like when I yelled at Miles for climbing in the baby’s Moses basket and both of us burst into tears.) But the hormones are leveling off, everyone’s healthy, and we’ve got lots of friends and family to lean on for support. Really, what more could a new mom ask for? (Besides a nap, obviously!)