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September 28, 2009 Almost One Year OldDear Ducky, Since I’ve finally got a free minute, let me tell you a few things about yourself. Your first birthday is this week. I just can’t believe it. Where did your babyhood go? Stop, please just for a minute, I need to soak you in before you’re a little boy. We went to the L.A. County fair this week. Of all the sights and smells and sounds, the one thing that got a reaction out of you was the camels. Both of them. You laughed and laughed and laughed. We got an up-close tour, so the camels were right in your face, and you LOVED every minute of it. Nevermind the Zebras or the ostrich, they were not interesting at all. You and I flew to Ottawa to go and visit Nanie and Grandpa D. You were a little turkey on the plane ride. You spent five hours standing on the seat and making faces at the woman behind you. Also, you made me change three dirty diapers on ONE flight. What’s up with that? Nanie and Grandpa had a blast taking you into town to show you off. We went on a long boat ride around the Thousand Islands, and then Nanie baked you your very own birthday cake. They sure miss you. As soon as you can talk, the first thing we’re going to teach you is “Where’s the remote?” because, Dude, you have a T.V. remote tracking system embedded in your little brain. If it’s not the T.V. remote, it’s my cell phone, my Ipod, the mouse or the keyboard. Nanie tried to give you your very own mouse, but you were to smart to be fooled. You’re starting to get into things that you know you’ve been told not to. It’s really annoying to yell “Get out of the Dog Water Dish” several times a day. You know when you’re in trouble too, you stick your lip out and cry, much like I imagine your father used to. You love to play “Upside-down Baby” with your father. Your other favorites are “Upside-down Puppy Kisses” and “Upside-down Mama Kisses.” You throw your head backwards when we’re not expecting it, so we have to be careful to hang on to you. You’ll eat more for your father than you will for me. We’re not sure why, I guess you take him more seriously? He’s more fun? Who knows? I finished your “My first year” photo collage yesterday, it was so hard not to cry when I put it up on the wall. You’re our whole world now, and you’re growing so fast. I love you, little Duck, May 30, 2009 Filed away so I don’t forgetHe pulls himself up to standing, now. He does it whenever he wants. He doesn’t crawl, he doesn’t sit, and he doesn’t pull himself up to walk. He’s gone from the army-crawl (dragging his belly with the palms of his hands) to pulling himself up to stand and then trying to CLIMB up my leg. My little Monkey tries to climb up my leg, and he’s learned that I’ll pick him up when he does it. But he doesn’t stay in my lap or hug me, not this kid. As soon as I pick him up, he dives across my arms and goes for my water cup. He’s watched me drink a few times, and has decided that *this* is what he wants to mimic. He’s pretty good at getting several sips of water out of a 24 ounce glass. May 27, 2009 The EndI had filled the prescription the night before. I put it on the counter next to my glasses. I woke up early, and listened to the birds, waiting for him to wake up. This was it. One last time. I jumped up when I heard him stir, and went to make a warm bottle. I was extra careful that the bottle was warm. He deserved that today. I scooped him up while he was still sleepy and settled into the glider. I rocked and hugged him.
I opened up my shirt and he looked at my nipple. He reached for it, and grabbed it with his hand before looking at me and then nursing. I didn’t have much milk left, so he bit me and slobbered on me before unlatching and looking up at me. We switched sides, I hugged him close. He latched for a few seconds. And then he farted. And then he was done. May 23, 2009 The Ugly TruthAnd then he farted. That’s the unromantic end of this story. The story that will be told in the past tense. I’m writing this down for myself, so that I don’t forget. Because part of the story is sweet, even if it’s tangled with the part that is unbearable. Once a day, he made it clear that he still needed to nurse. But my mood had not been improving. Anxiety came and went like the sun. I was fine, until someone asked me how I was doing. Not fine. I needed help. Help to learn how to nurse, how to put him down for a nap. I needed help to hold him up when my arms were tired. I needed help learning what his cries meant. I needed help to figure out how much to feed him. I needed help to accept the fact that all those things came more naturally to my husband than to me. I needed help sleeping. I needed help organizing my day. I needed help staving off the monotony of washing bottles and taking diapers out to the trash. The most basic things, like making phone calls, and walking into the post office became the hardest thing in the world. How could I take care of a baby if I couldn’t take care of myself? That’s not completely true. I can take care of a baby. I am capable, he is cared for. The inside of his ears are dirty, but he has been better than fine. I have not been. I’ve seen a psychiatrist and a social worker a couple times a week for the last year. Dutifully keeping my appointments. Being honest. Being preemptive. Reciting my medical history and asking for help while I was still able, before Ducky was even born. Calling for help when I needed to. I’ve tried everything. Daily exercise, Omega 3’s, weekly monitoring, group therapy and individual therapy. I’ve been coached for how to break ties with people who I can no longer take care of, because I need all the strength I have to take care of my child and myself. I’ve been working my tail off all year, trying to stay fine. I know exactly what happens to a family when Mommy is Not Fine. I have got to break the cycle. Ducky deserves a mother who can, and will, take care of herself. But I need help. The bills for therapy are piling up. Family members are taking care of Ducky as best as they are able to. We’re paying for a wonderful babysitter. That Guy I Married is moving mountains to take care of both of us, and himself. I’ve tried every drug that is safe for nursing a baby. It’s not enough. May 19, 2009 Triple ThreatYesterday before That Guy came home, Ducky woke up from his nap. I found him on his knees, holding the crib railing and sucking on the rail. Time to move the crib down to the lowest setting. I made sure to get a picture and a video, but we haven’t managed to get the crib lowered yet. Today, when I came home from work, That Guy and I were sitting in front of the computer with Ducky on the floor. He crawled over, grabed one of each of our legs, and pulled himself up on his knees. I watched in horror as he pulled his right knee out from under him and slowly placed his right foot on the floor. He stood up on both feet, on the first try. On my way into town, I called the grandparents, and sent text messages to the god parents. I got into town, parked and pushed the stroller into an elevator. A woman comes up behind me and starts waving “Hi Baby! Hi Baby!” He waved back. Arm out, closing his fingers to his thumb several times. He waved back! THREE milestones in twenty four hours. ::wail:: My baaaaaaay-by! May 17, 2009 CryingIf there ever was a day that I wish I blogged more often, and was a little more tied in to the blogosphere, this is it. My doctors have been pushing me to stop nursing for a couple of months now. Supposedly, there are meds that would help me more, but there’s no data on how they’d effect a nursing child. I had been down to nursing once a day for most of the last month. Yesterday, Ducky never asked to nurse, so we were okay. But tonight, right now. Not so fine. He wants to nurse, and I want to let him. “They say” I need to wean, and that I will be better off. They don’t have any proof that I’ll be better off. And, They are not listening to him crying. He’s looking at me, and grabbing my shirt, not Theirs. He’s still so small. I can’t even call anyone for advice. I already know what all of the other mom-friends think about the bottle/boob decision. They’ve all made their choices. I wanted to nurse for a year. Or less, if Ducky lost interest in his own time. I’d jump ship and invest in the formula if I KNEW that new meds would help me. But, they’ve never helped before, who’s to say they’ll help now. Tonight, at least, I’m worse off for the upset of not nursing. And we’re both still crying. May 3, 2009 7 months oldDear Ducky, We survived a 10-hour trip across the country with you. I was *very* proud of myself for remembering to actually get a picture of you on the day of your seventh month. Gotcha dressed, got your face cleaned up, and stuck you in your car seat for the monthly comparison shot. Otherwise, it’s a little too easy to get you to smile for pictures. So, at your behest, we’ll start a new tradition and take your seven-month photo your way. In the air. April 22, 2009April 16, 2009 Dear Ducky,Dear Ducky, I would like to know why it is perfectly alright to abandon you for a whole hour at the YMCA, but, it is unacceptable to leave you for five minutes on the livingroom floor. What is with the screaming? Please explain. October 30, 2008 Love Thursday: First EditionEverybody loves the baby in their own special way. The Dog sniffs him and licks him That Guy I Married makes faces at him Gramsie talks to him MC spoils him Dedo shows him off Debbie cuddles him Uncle Chris burps him (and makes fun of his little noises too)
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