Monday, July 10, 2006

Baby Mobile

It's July 10th and Eliza's officially mobile. She's been flirting with crawling for weeks, on all fours with her little butt in the air, rocking away. About two weeks ago she made the move forward with her legs and I thought that was it. However, she didn't seem to know what to do with her hands so she'd move about an inch or so, then fall, get frustrated and look up at me with an expression of such pain I felt compelled to pick her up. Most of the time. Okay some of the time. Other times I left her there, hoping she'd get back up and try again. More often than not, she'd become distracted by a nearby magazine page or leg of furniture and that would lead to several minutes of grab and mouth.

Yesterday, a Sunday, exactly two weeks after her precrawling incident, Eliza crawled from the middle of the rug to greet me here at the computer. Covering a distance of about six feet, Eliza grabbed my foot, swatted at it a bit, then made the move for a portable file holder I have stashed under the desk. This file folder sports an enticing, shiny metal bar and Eliza couldn't resist grabbing the holder and pulling it towards herself repeatedly. Fearing birth certificates, bank statements and passports all over the floor I had to forfeit my place at the computer and sweep her into my arms with joy.

I started crawling at five and a half months so Eliza's two months behind me in this game. But right on the Murphy's Law schedule of parenting. Eliza will suffer her first long flight this week and her newfound mobility will probably be further cause to propel herself off the lap of whoever holds her through the seven or eight or who knows with the time change flight to Amsterdam. Last week I took a short hour and a half long bus ride with Eliza that felt kind of like my version of "No Exit." Eliza slept peacefully in her sling for about a half hour, then woke up and immediately started pushing herself away from my body with her sturdy little legs. I spent the remaining hour with both arms soar from the football clutch hold I had to adopt to keep her from firing herself like a cannon right onto the floor of the bus. I imagine she would have been quite happy if I'd unleashed her onto the bus aisle floor, her little body jerked back and forth and the driver pumped the brake and then slapped the gas pedal. Not wanting bruises all over her round little body, I struggled to keep her "safely" on my lap.

I might add that I'm not the best flyer under any circumstances. I have my phobias, usually requiring valium or at least half a bottle of cheap British Airways wine. This trip will be harder with my billion dollar baby bouncing right there on my lap. I admit it, I'm scared. I finally got to a moment in my life where I'm pretty satisfied with my lovely daughter and I don't want any of it taken away from me.

But off this morose topic for a moment here to celebrate some other fun stuff--not only Eliza crawling, she's regularly hoisting herself up against furniture. Last night as I shut off the shower to the accompaniment of some healthy Eliza screaming, I entered the bedroom to see her confidently standing while holding on to the side of the crib, her mouth seeming larger than her face. I summoned C for a peek, not only so show her warrior pose but how unlikely it is for Eliza to "go back to sleep on her own" when she looks ready for battle. C and I have an ongoing battle about night waking and crying. He's for the "cry it out" approach while I, perhaps more sensitive to the tenor of her cries, know better. Her tired, yes I might be able to fall asleep cry sounds far different from the screaming that only a good cuddle will calm down. Again, I digress.

She smiles, she smiles, she smiles. She's always been a smiley kid but now that smile seems destined to bust her face in half. After another horrid night of sleep for me (I probably topped out at 3 hours) I rejoiced in her smiles yesterday morning in bed while her father snored through the event. I envied his ability to sleep through her wakefulness but at the same time I celebrated my ability to share her excitement at the start of a new day. This is a concept I have to hold on to because I topped out around four hours or five last night and I'm definitely starting to hear the buzz in my ears and the trails of imaginary moving rodents while my eyes and state of mind succumb to my fatigue. Someday I'll get a good nights sleep again. Some day.

But not today. And probably not tonight.

She giggles uncontrollably sometimes now. Not often, perhaps only once a day but there's this great window when I can kiss her belly and neck and nibble on her chubby legs and she'll squeal and giggle delightedly as I drink her in and relish the moment. I can't believe how great this baby is, how much I can enjoy her simply by chewing on her little leg.

Of course there's a flip side--the crying at 4am isn't fun nor are are diaper changing wrestling sessions. Why would Eliza stay still while I try to unwrap and replace a diaper when she can roll over, stick her soiled but in the air and start showing off her newfound skills? You know what gets everywhere but even still, the sight of her naked butt in the air is so charming that if it wasn't me with you know what on my hands, this could be one of the greatest moments ever. But it isn't, especially when it repeats itself about seven times a day.

So that's my girl for today. Right now she's napping, I hope happily. I tried to join her but ended up here instead. Perhaps I shall curl up on the couch some more.

Sunday, July 09, 2006

Night Waking

When you first bring that new baby home and you learn how to sleep in three hour shifts, you can expect lots of comments from friends who are already parents along the lines of "It gets easier." Those first few months pass in a blur of marathon breastfeeding sessions and fumbling for something on the nightstand when the baby wakes up at 2am, then 5:30 am. Then the baby starts feeding less frequently and starts sleeping for 5, 6 then 10 hour stretches and you expel a happy sigh of relief to have made it through the "hard part."

Eliza started sleeping through the night at six weeks. This nightly act of sleeping fitfully for ten hours elicited envy, awestruck exclamations and sneaky glances at my boobs as other Moms wondered "what I had in there." She'd wake in the night maybe once or twice a week but the rest of the time, she was pretty predictable. Down at 10, up at six, C and I patted ourselves on the back and lifted our eyes towards a higher power in gratitude. I managed to tune out conversations about sleep training and crying it out.

At four months, Eliza began to wake once a night every night. After getting used to my fit little sleeper, this nightly interruption was greatly discombobulating. C and I started fighting, my hair started looking decidedly askew and my brain/mouth coordination went haywire. Suddenly, I'd say North Carolina when I meant South, right when I meant left, FU when I meant, hey great to see you. The adrenaline rush of the first few months was over and with four months of sleep deprivation, I found myself a shoe in for the lead in "Taming of the Shrew."

However, this night waking was soon corrected when Eliza started on cereal. With the simple introduction of solid food, my little night waker morphed right back into night sleeper. I rejoiced again at my success and took to going to bed earlier, close to when she did in case the problem returned.

Fast forward now to 7 and a half months and the night waking has returned what feels like a fever pitch. The bigger problem though is my ability to return to REM sleep has completely gone away. When she's up, I'm up and then some. Right now, I've got a happy sleepy apartment and I'm pounding away at a computer keyboard, terrified at what I'll be like tomorrow (today).

It started shortly before 7months. She was up for one long night and the following day I felt and certainly looked like an extra in a George Romero film. When a cold came, I figured this new sleep disturbance was caused by the cold and would go away with the cold. The cold lasted about ten days and so did the night waking. When she slept through the night for the first time, again I believed all would be well. Two nights later, the night waking started again, then a fever came on and I believed this was all due to a long sickness.

Finally this week, she slept through the night on Tuesday. Then Wednesday, then Thursday and even Friday. I, unfortunately, now accustomed to sleep interruptions, did not fare as well. I woke at four the first night, sort of waiting for her to wake up. As the minutes ticked by and still she didn't wake, I couldn't find that switch to turn off my mind and slide back into sleep. Wednesday night, the same thing happened though I did manage to squeeze in an extra hour or two before I woke. Thursday, I manged another extra hour. By Friday, I had worked my way up to almost 6 1/2 hours of sleep. I felt great Saturday, ready to celebrate, ready to maybe make it seven hours tonight.

Here it is, 3:27 am, technically it's Sunday and I'm wide awake. Eliza woke up shortly before 2, I nursed her back down (an activity frowned on at this age as an act that will scar your child with the inability to fall back asleep on her own) and then crept back to bed. I closed my eyes and found a comfortable position. I waited. And waited. And waited. Finally, I gave up. I wonder what kind of shrew I'll be tomorrow.

Ambien commercials are suddenly garnering the same kind of lust for me as images of Brad Pitt with his shirt off. I wonder what it's like to get a full 8-10 hours of sleep. I don't think I've had that since last October, before I got too big with Eliza and had to get up to pee three times a night. Suddenly conversations about sleep training pique my interest. I hear other Mom's tales of moving into the living room and I salivate with envy. A room seperate from my baby. I love her and love waking up to look at her in the morning, but oh how a room of my own seems like cloud. This past week I had the opportunity at my mother's to put her in a room downstairs and sleep upstairs. But every night, I couldn't do it afraid of not hearing her, afraid she'd wake up in this room she didn't really recognize and wonder where I'd gone.

In ten days Eliza will be eight months old. She's so happy now, loves the swings at the park, giggles uncontrollable when I chew on her chubby legs and sits forward in her stroller, excited to take in the world. Every day with her feels like a newsreel of great moments worth recording. And yet, I'm exhausted, frazzled, desperate for sleep and somehow unable to do so. One mother described this as the greatest endurance test she'd ever taken. Loving my daughter, that's the easy part. But when does the sleep thing, when does that end?