cindy's world

The fertility doctor we’d worked with had his staff call me when Allie was a couple of months old to check on me, and to ask us to bring her over so he could meet her. Today at lunch was the meeting we’d arranged. Having received the blow from Nanny Susanne this morning, I could use some getting-out anyway. Mr. W had agreed to come out during lunchtime and meet us at the clinic. After I told him about Susanne, he took the rest of the afternoon off to stay with us. What a great guy I have.

Allie was smiling at everyone like she knew them, as if she in spirit form had been there and remembers them. “This is where you started,” Mr. W told Allie.

Dr. R was all smiles when he saw her. “She’s beautiful!” He asked how I’m doing, and I told him about my postpartum depression. He said not to worry, it’ll start to fix itself once my hormones regulate as the baby starts to breastfeed less. He assumed we’re all exhausted from being up every few hours and that contributes, too. I told him Allie typically sleeps through the night. He asked if I’m pumping, and I told him she typically goes to bed around 7:30p and wakes around 7a, and I get up around 5a to pump because I’m so uncomfortable. He said because I’m getting 8-10 hours of no milk expression overnight, that my body would recover its hormones faster, and expects I’d feel better within a matter of weeks instead of months. Reading my mind, he added this doesn’t “dry up” my milk supply; that doesn’t happen until I stop feeding her breastmilk. “But sleeping through the night helps you feel a lot better, right?” I told him about how Dodo was diagnosed with Stage 2 kidney disease and has been yowling every few hours through the night (yeah, he started doing the overnight thing again; less loudly, but every 2-3 hours. I received his meds a couple of days ago and have administered them twice a day since).
Dr. R said in passing that we still have 3 more embryos for future beautiful children.
Mr. W said we were also here to discuss that, and to stop storage for them. Dr. R said we don’t have to decide that now, that can come way later. Mr. W said we already know we’re done having kids, and I made a crack that he’s taking advantage of my postpartum depression state. Mr. W laughed, put his arm around me, and said yeah, he wants me to sign the papers to let them go before I change my mind. Dr. R laughed and suggested we wait awhile.

When he realized we were serious, however, he invited us into his office to talk in private. He suggested that most people wait until the baby is about a year old, when we know his/her personality better, and the groggy period of new parent-dom has passed to decide whether we want more kids. When we release the embryos, we can decide whether to have the clinic dispose of them, or we can donate the embryos to medical studies, or we can donate them to a couple for implantation. I said we always agreed that we would only have one, and Mr. W added that he’s too old to consider more kids. I asked about the ethics of donating the embryos, how they go to the recipients, etc. He explained that the clinic is not in the business of giving out embryos; in fact, if someone calls and asks if they have embryos for implant, the answer is no. However, on occasion, there is the couple who has multiple failed IVF attempts with the clinic, have run thru the gamut of options, and are now sitting before him thinking they could never have children. He would know this couple pretty well by then, and would know if they could care for a baby. And then he could tell them that there is another option they have never discussed. The clinic makes no money off the donation; they charge the same for implanting my own embryos as they would implanting the embryo into anyone else. A couple he’d recently done this for went through SIX failed IVF cycles, failed donor sperm inseminations, and were out of money and crestfallen. He finally offered a precious embryo donated by another past patient and they finally had their baby.

I wanted to do this, but I wanted a little more reassurance. I said, “A mixed-race embryo would be hard to find for a mixed-race couple, right?” He said he would LOVE to have my embryos, altho he thinks this shouldn’t be a decision to be made on a whim on our parts. But yes, the embryos would be better than gold; they would be the best gift imaginable for the recipient couple. However, he told me to consider that I may wonder with every kid I see who looks kind of like Allie. He has a pair of patients whose IVF kids are in college, and they’re still paying for embryo storage instead of donating as they’re on the fence. The father said he just knows that he’d be at the airport and see a curly-haired kid and wonder, “Is that my son? Is that my daughter?” and that it would drive him insane.
I can totally see that, and it would probably make me always wonder, too… but the thought of how MUCH a couple would want the kid, how precious a gift that would be, and especially for an infertile mixed-race couple to have an opportunity to birth and parent a baby who’s mixed just like they are…that far outweighs my curiosities and discomforts, right? That couple would love our little girl or boy so incredibly much, and they would be so ready for parenthood; much more ready than someone who got drunk at a party and met someone else who looked hot through beer goggles.
Mr. W reminded me of my beliefs that the soul which comes through is meant to be with the parents that raise him/her, regardless of the body or vehicle that the soul uses to come through. I’m only providing a means, not a soul.

We spent longer than we’d expected at the clinic, filling out background questionnaires and family histories, signing over the embryos and relinquishing our rights to the children they may grow into. We each gave 8 large vials of blood for them to run tests. When the test results come back, if everything is clear, the doctor will sign off on the forms and the future of these embryos will be in his hands.

All the embryo-related transfers and implantations will be anonymous. We know it’s likely to be a local couple, since the recipients will be patients of the doctor first. So what Dr. R does, if we want, is provide a date of birth for us. That confused me. We won’t even know a gender, what’s the DOB for? “Let’s say she comes home one day with a new boyfriend a few years younger, and you think, ‘Hmm, he looks familiar.’ You can then ask, ‘Hey, when’s your birthday?’ If it’s a match, then you call his mom and say, ‘Uh, have you had prior associations with [fertility clinic name]?’ She’ll likely freak out, but then you’ll know.” Ah.

So today, I’ve done things I never would’ve expected to a few years ago. I cried because the perfect nanny that felt like my one light at the end of the tunnel disappeared on me. I medicated my cat for high blood pressure caused by terminal kidney disease. And we visited the doctor that made it all possible, where Allie as a concept started, and I took a deep breath & signed over my 3 remaining embryos to them so that if a hopeful-eyed mixed couple finds themselves out of IVF options after many failed attempts, my doctor can offer them the best gift I am able to give total strangers.

I need a good cry later.

It’s been a rough day. I’ll start chronologically, as the second part I think deserves its own post.

This morning, when Allie was napping, I opened my emails as usual, and what I read there put me in a total state of shock. I was stunned and a half-eaten apple stayed on the computer table for half a day as a bookmark in time to show when everything froze for me.

Nanny Susanne and I had been corresponding via email and sometimes via text through the month as she was working for the other family on a temporary, “emergency” basis. We made plans. I wrote her to tell her about Allie’s first tooth. She wrote back tips and encouragement, gave a lot of comfort. I said I can’t wait for her to come onboard in April. She said she’s excited to work for us and will be here every day from April on, smiley-face. We agreed for her to come over on Sunday, to hang out, get to know our house and the environment, we were taking her to lunch and to the lake. We were going to go shopping with Allie to a nearby mall she’d never been to (she loves shopping). And then:

Hi Cindy,
I hope everything is going well and you guys are good. Well over here everything is going well too. Remember I told you that I was working this month for someone else, it appeared that they also would like me to stay on a long term basis. I gave it some consideration and measured the two options that I have and I would really like to stay with the ones I am working for right now. This was not an easy choice but after weighting both sides I really prefer it that way. I hope you still have the chance to find someone else… I know you interviewed others too, maybe one of them could take my place… Sorry for the inconvenience.

Hope everything will work out

Are you KIDDING me? Despite being stunned, I wrote back:

Hi Susanne,

Wow. Okay. I interviewed one other person but like I told you, we preferred you over her by quite a margin. Since I thought we had an agreement, I stopped interviewing and have trusted that everything will be okay because we trusted you and thought you would be the perfect fit for us. I have been very at peace ever since you told me you agree to be Allie’s nanny. I’ve even extended my maternity leave so that I can accommodate the other family you are with, because that was how much I wanted you to work out with us. I am no longer a member of that website, because I didn’t think I’d need it anymore. Right now, with only a couple of weeks between now and the time I have to return to work, I’m left with very rushed and few options.

Thank you for your help over email the past few weeks, I’ve appreciated your feedback. If anything changes with that family, please let me know ASAP. We would still love to have the original arrangement in place. I really, really wish it could’ve worked out.

She’s been online since then, as I’ve seen her “active” on chat, but she didn’t write back. I don’t know what she could say. She KNOWS she’s screwing us because she knows I have 2 weeks until I have to return to work; and she’d called to tell me she was taking our offer, and yet emails to tell me she was backing out. She didn’t want to face me. I never saw this coming; she was beyond ethical, or so I thought. I don’t know how she could in good conscience accept another job when she has already committed to us. She wasn’t available to take that other job. I was being nice in saying it was okay for her to help this family out, even tho she was supposed to be with us part-time this month already. I was being nice to extend my maternity leave a week so that she could stay on the full month with them and then have a week to acclimate to us. And what the other family ended up doing with my being accommodating was steal our nanny. I get the sense, and Rebecca said the same thing, that they offered her more money. Mr. W considers this a “career choice” of hers; stay with someone familiar and get possibly more money, or do something new with strangers. He obviously doesn’t take it personally. But I am so stunned, and hurt, and bewildered. I feel betrayed. She and I had a friendship beginning, I thought. I could not imagine doing this to someone, and I would feel good about myself at turning down something that seems tempting, to maintain my own integrity. When I say I will do something for someone, I take my own word very seriously, often more seriously than the person I’d made the promise to.

The nanny search has to begin again. I’d let my membership on the nanny site expire, thinking we had someone, and it’ll be another $100 to sign up again. I called Nanny Fernanda, the other girl we’d interviewed, just to see if she’s available. It went to voice mail and I didn’t leave a message. She had disappeared from the nanny site shortly after I’d told her we were going with someone else, so she may have picked up a nanny job and is working. I also called a local-ish older woman we had planned to interview, but canceled the interview after Susanne agreed to be our nanny. The line was always busy. So it seems those avenues are deliberately closed to me. I’m so burnt-out. Ironically, that was something I’d written to Susanne a week ago and she’d responded for me not to stress because Allie will pick up on it, and that she will be here to help me soon, in April, and every day after that, smiley-face.

I know everything happens for a reason. I have faith that the “right” nanny we’re “supposed to” have is out there somewhere, her situation arranging itself so that she could be available to us soon. Rebecca said that the same source of abundance from God that provides us with what we need still continues to provide for us, through different avenues, so if Susanne is no longer a viable avenue, another one will come. Susanne may have exercised free will to back out, but God won’t let something go away on us without providing us another way, she says. All my friends say it’s a good thing this happened now, as I have 2 weeks to find someone else; it would be more disastrous if Susanne took another job for more money or other reasons a few weeks into working with us, and Allie’s now attached to her, and I’m back at work.

That’s what my head agrees with. Emotionally, I’m messed up. When I went to get Allie after her morning nap, I took one look at her beautiful trusting little face, and thought, “How could anyone not want to be here with you?” and started crying. I KNOW it’s not about HER, of all things. But I feel like SHE was abandoned, too. Mr. W took the afternoon off and met us at the fertility doctor’s office at lunchtime, then we went to True Food Kitchen for a late lunch. I’m glad I have such a present husband.

I feel very pensive right now. Flip Flop Girl asked me on the phone before what it was exactly that I’m scared about when I feel like this. I couldn’t really come up with anything, because logic tells me that Allie is fine. But I’m terrified again! Is it because I’m feeling lost in unfamiliar territory again? I just get comfortable thinking I’ve “learned” her, and she flips the game. In fact, parents of young kids tell me that IS the game; I’m perpetually playing catch-up cuz they change so fast. You’d think I’d be used to it by now. But I’m not. I’m VERY uncomfortable with the lost feeling. I hate it. And Allie seems ahead of her time in growth and development, flying thru changes at light speed. I don’t know anyone else’s baby that started teething before 4 months. Whilst wearing 6-month clothes.

A huge thing on the horizon also worrying me is that hubby wants to take a vacation in early May. I have the same week off. He wants to roadtrip either to NorCal to see my friends and their new babies or maybe to Vegas so Allie can see his family. Allie has been doing better in carseats, not fussing automatically upon seating like she used to, but she still wants to get out after awhile, and unlike other babies I’d heard about, doesn’t automatically fall sleep once the car moves. I worry about her ability to sleep and nap when we’re away from home in a strange environment. I worry about her crying bothering hotel patrons if she can’t sleep through the strangeness. I worry about her missing naps like crazy, crashing, being very cranky from overtiredness and overstimulation. I worry about being unable to reacclimate her to her routine once we return home so that she continues being an overtired baby, and now one who is unable to sleep in her own room anymore, either. My cousin Jennifer recommended that I start “training” her to be able to sleep in different areas of our house. I’ve tried soothing her elsewhere, but she doesn’t go down. She used to be able to sleep in the playard and on the couch in the living room (supervised), but that went out the window after she got sick and I napped her exclusively in her crib for the elevated mattress and humidifer, and I haven’t been able to sleep her elsewhere since.

People tell me I’m not gonna mess my baby up by taking her on vacation or having her off-routine once in awhile. Logically, I believe them, but emotionally, I don’t. The only source of comfort is that the sleep book says if the baby is getting sufficient rest 90%+ of the time, and I’m respecting her drowsy cues and her need to sleep as much as I can, she will recover quickly from an occasional exception. It’s the babies who aren’t allowed to rest habitually, are always taken out and have very irregular lifestyles, are chronically overtired — it’s those babies who recover much slower after a disruption like a vacation.

Maybe it’s time to check with Rebecca for reassurance.

Allie slept clear through the night, and Dodo was pretty great, too. He yowled for the first time in days when Allie was doing her 22 minutes of screaming. Poor guy; I think she gave him a bigger headache than he already has. So since the stepdaughter is on a 2-week trip with her college’s performing choir, and Dodo was good, and Allie was good, oh no, whatever will keep Cindy up? The answer was unexpected: the smoke detector alarm in our bedroom started a caustic loud chirp every 2 minutes at 5:30am. It must be low on battery. I feared it would chirp every 2 minutes until we replaced the battery, keeping me from sleeping and keeping the baby from sleeping. Mr. W had to get up, go to the garage, get a giant ladder, and remove the unit from our high bedroom ceiling.

I pumped while he got ready and ate breakfast downstairs. When I went down to store the milk, I wanted to make sure we were okay, as he was irritated at me about my wanting him to do something immediately about the chirping. He thinks I have too much control but am not realizing it. I feel I don’t have enough control because the baby still isn’t napping to her little heart’s content without being woken up by external noise. I’m hoping the noise sensitivity is just a phase so that I can stop going crazy when the neighbors and their kids are yelling and banging stuff outside. I’m not trying to control things cuz I’m on a power trip; I truly want what’s best for my baby, and I see her when she’s woken up prematurely from a nap. She’s tired, cranky, rubbing her eyes, yawning. Plus, I don’t get much of a break if she only sleeps half an hour every 3 hours. How would I eat/wash pump parts/do chores/pay bills/relax? Mr. W says that she’s getting more than sufficient sleep; she wouldn’t be all smiley when we’re out, charming strangers left and right, if she were sleep-deprived. She’d be wailing 5 hours like she did the first couple of months before I figured out that I ought to nap her regularly. That was a new thought to me. I’d read that a baby Allie’s age needs 15 hours of sleep a day; 10-11 overnight, 5-6 in the day divided into 3 naps. She gets close to 11 hours overnight (waking for brief feedings and going back to sleep doesn’t count against these 10-11 hrs), but her naps are nowhere near 5-6 hours. She’s lucky if she gets over an hour in more than 1 nap a day. I’m ecstatic when she hits 1.5 hours twice in her 3 naps, altho occasionally she’d get 2, 2.5 hours in a nap, too. What she has more of are 45-minute naps, and I am seriously bummed if she has a 30-minute one, which isn’t that uncommon, either. She’s still yawning after those. Multiple references on sleep have said that at this age, under an hour doesn’t count because it’s not restorative. Depending on the kid, 45 minutes is a “maybe.” That’s why my anxieties run crazy high before she’s reached and crossed the 30-minute vulnerable-to-waking point.

Now that it’s spring weather, 6-7 screaming elementary school-age children have decided to hang out together in our cul de sac, gathering at 3pm or so. If I can get 2 good naps in by then, I’m less anxious. But it’s a loooong stretch from then until her bedtime if she doesn’t get the afternoon nap, and being wired from being up too long is NOT good for bedtime.

I still feel desperately, desperately in need of a break. The baby needs a pause button. And a sleep button. Mr. W told me to schedule a massage and/or a pedicure for myself over the weekend and he’ll just bottlefeed the baby, but I have a problem leaving her that long because I’m afraid she wouldn’t nap for him, would get fussy, and irritate him. He said he had both his kids from when they were very very young for entire weekends completely on his own and they survived. I had thought she couldn’t get used to him and would need me to nap her, because he’d said before that I had her in a specific falling asleep method that he couldn’t replicate so that she wouldn’t go to sleep on him. This morning he said babies can get used to different people and different methods if we expose her to these differences. Oh. I hope he’s right.

She woke up earlier than usual at 7:15a this morning, but didn’t cry or call, as usual. I heard her talking to herself. I went in and she acted like she was still happy to see me. I hope I don’t have to repeat the crying out again tonight, but last night probably wasn’t the last time we’d be doing it. Since she got up early, which I encouraged to get her on daylight savings time, she is taking her first nap early. It’s been 31 minutes so far. *crossing fingers*

Dear Allie,

Forgive me for letting you cry it out for the first time tonight. When you woke up during the transfer from the bedtime feeding to your crib, I knew there was no easy drift back to sleep for you. You were too wide-eyed, and I knew what was coming based on what had come in the past couple of weeks when you looked like that. I am so worn today, I noticed my movements were sluggish and going up the stairs made me out of breath. I couldn’t do it, my body was shutting down. When I realized you were screaming and not actually crying, when I realized you are not in pain, you are not hungry, you are not unclean, and you are safe and healthy, I knew you were screaming and thrashing in protest. I stayed with you a few minutes and when it didn’t die down, I decided I would watch you from the monitor downstairs. Mommy didn’t leave you; mommy kept her heart in your crib and her eyes on your image. You thrashed in between small attempts to soothe yourself with your thumb, just like you did when I held you last night during your screaming fit. It was the same tantrum, only this time, less tears, more yelling. I realized also that your fit is following the same pattern — kick and thrash and scream, suckle a second, kick and thrash and scream, suckle a second. You can soothe yourself, you know how to do it, you are choosing not to and are choosing to protest. It took about 30 minutes between the end of your feeding and the time you fell asleep as I held you during your tantrum last night; tonight in your crib, following the same protest patterns as the self-soothing increments became longer and the screaming increments became shorter, the total duration of your tantrum was 22 minutes. It was a revelation to realize that you would be doing the same thing for the same duration whether I held you or not.
I never thought I would be sitting here, watching you scream and kick, and be doing nothing. I thought if I did everything I could to make sure you got enough rest, got you used to napping and used to sleeping, that you would just easily transition into sleep, every day, every night, every nap. People told me differently, books told me differently. Someone said babies often stop sleeping through the night at your age. I hoped that would not be you. I really did everything in my power. Everything. You don’t know how close I came to walking outside today and telling the neighbors to stop yelling at their kids to get in the car, telling the neighborhood kids to play more quietly, telling them to get their stupid dog to stop barking. I have a sleeping baby who’s noise sensitive, can’t the neighborhood just shut up and let my baby nap?
Daddy thinks you’re teething. I pointed out how the front of your lower gums look wider and paler in two spots where your lower front teeth would be. He said yup, you’re teething. It’ll be awhile before the tooth comes out, but they’re working on it. Given that, along with your major developmental breakthroughs, of course you have your opinion. You don’t want to go in the crib. You’re tired but you want to fight me. You’re aware. You’re cognitive. You have a will. You now realize you can exercise your will, loudly.
I like it when you laugh loudly. I enjoyed it when you walked, with my assistance, to the wicker storage cube today and touched it on your own, testing the texture, learning how your nails scratching on it makes a sound. You studied it, you felt it with both hands, fingertips scratching and rubbing. You’re getting smarter by the day. I’m so proud of you for that, and wish growing pains were easier on you, and wish that you’d know enough to trust me when I put you to bed.
There’ll be many more battles to come, but for now, while I watch you soundly sleep on your bear, with the usual widespread arms, legs pulled up like little frog legs, I’m simultaneously sorry I had to let you cry for 22 minutes to get there, scared I may have to do it again, and relieved that I may be helping you in a tough love sort of way that would hopefully make the overall process shorter. I don’t know whether I’m the worst mother in the world for those 22 minutes, or I should be celebrating the success that you’re sleeping on your own without being lulled into it by a parent.
They say once the average baby reaches 4-6 months, real sleep training can begin, and the cry-it-out is the fastest method. I know you’re not 4 months until the 23rd of this month, but I hope you forgive me when you’re well-rested.

Mommy loves you, that’s why.

The gardeners came yesterday while I was breastfeeding Allie, so that’s good; they didn’t wake her up. The cleaning people came late at 3:15p, and I’d just put her down for a nap at 3p. When I opened the door, they must’ve seen something in my face when I told them I’d just put the baby down 15 mins ago and I didn’t know what to do, because they said simply that they’d come back in an hour and 20 minutes. I gratefully closed the door. Allie ended up taking that nap all the way until they came back at 5p, and I went in and opened the door and she woke up in a great mood. Mr. W was home by then, so we went to pick up the prescription low-protein cat food from the vet, had some Italian at the restaurant next door to the vet, then went to the local drugstore to buy some diapers. Allie was very well-behaved in public, altho she started crying in the car on the way back, struggling against the carseat. I put her to bed with no problem as she was very tired and ready to go down at about 7:30p when we started her bedtime feeding. Dodo took to the new food seemingly also without a problem, and was a perfect gentleman all night.

Allie, however, decided to have 2 middle-of-the-night feedings for the 2nd night in a row. The first one was very early, 10:30p. The next one was also very early, albeit in the morning, 4:50a. I comforted myself saying it was 3:50a to her. One of my now biggest fears regarding her nights happened at her 10:30p feeding. Altho she was falling asleep eating and did fall asleep after on the Boppy, and I let her sleep for a minute or so in hopes she’d be really tired when I moved her back to her crib, the moment she hit the crib she was wide awake and upset. I walked out when I heard her suckle her fingers in a self-soothe attempt. As soon as I entered the bedroom, she was all-out wailing and flailing. I went back in, trying to get her thumb back in her mouth. Nope. Patted her comfortingly. Nope. I had to pick her up as she screamed and cried and struggled against me. I patiently held her and walked her a little bit in her room, the way I put her to nap. She tried to get into the sleepy position and suck her thumb, but seconds later she’d pull her thumb out, stiffen up against me pulling away from my body, thrash her legs, and scream and cry again. This happened over and over. I considered maybe she had her nose stuffed from the crying and couldn’t breathe well with her thumb in her mouth, but then she started settling for multiple seconds at a time so that I could hear breath come in and out, so I knew she was fine. After 15-20 minutes of this, Mr. W poked in and asked if I wanted him to bring the swing upstairs into her room. I shook my head vehemently, still trying to keep things very calm, quiet, dark, and as commotion-less as possible so she doesn’t get used to hyper-interaction in the middle of the night. Mr. W couldn’t see me in the dark and assumed I didn’t answer, so he went downstairs and lugged the big electric swing up. I whisper-hissed at him, as he came in the room, “No, no no! Too much commotion!” I think I offended him as he went back out. She finally settled into the sleepy position, sucked her thumb, and fell asleep on me. When I put her in her crib, she sighed and moved, curling onto her side putting her thumb back in her mouth, and as I snuck out, I heard her suckle. By the time I was back in our bedroom apologizing to Mr. W, she was asleep. Looking back at the app where I’d recorded her feeding and her sleeping, the time between the end of her feed and the beginning of her sleep was about 30 minutes, but it felt like hours of screaming, struggling, sweating.

I was still exhausted by the time she cried again at 4:50a. Mr. W was already up, having gotten ready downstairs for the gym to allow me some time to sleep, but the cat was also up and moving around, meowing here and there (not yowling), and could be convinced to come to me to be petted and quieted. I was watching the baby flail around on the monitor and then yup, she started crying. I went to her room as Mr. W was getting ready to leave and I started feeding her, terrified that she’d refuse to go back to sleep like earlier. When I heard the garage door open then close, I suddenly felt very, very alone in the dark with the baby who now felt more like something I feared than something I confidently nurtured. Please, please, please, go right back to sleep afterwards, I prayed in my head. I was terrified, and so, so worn.
She went back to bed in her crib without much protest beyond the initial whimpering.

I went back to bed, also, and did not sleep well. I continue to have what feels like auditory hallucinations of the baby crying as my brain drifts thru the gap between wake and sleep. I would wake up with my heart pounding, reach for the phone to do a camera check while praying that I’m having an auditory hallucation. Most of the time this morning, I was. She slept well and I again had to debate whether I ought to start moving her wake time incrementally earlier. I finally gave up trying to sleep and I got up to get myself ready for the day, and went in her room at 7:50a, 10 mins earlier than yesterday. She was wide-eyed, so I don’t know if I woke her by opening the door, or if she was already awake. She smiled sweetly at me with her gummy mouth open. I did my usual, “Good MORning, sweetheart!” as I opened her blinds, and we started our day.

Things always seem less desperate in daylight, but I am hanging on day-by-day, very very close to total burnout. I feel a slight nausea, I feel very close to tears. I find myself spacing in the middle of playing with Allie, or in the middle of feeding her. It’s hard to plan ahead, and I don’t know what to do a lot of the time, but I still try. Yesterday, as her nap reached the point of her next feeding and she was still asleep, I started pumping with the handpump. I was so stressed I got no more than drops out of the side that normally produces a lot, and I switched sides and had just gotten out 2 ounces when she woke up. I had to stop mid-pumping, get her, prepare and bottle-feed her, then I tried to finish pumping while she was in the walker/activity center. Got nothing out of the other side still. I gave up and put that bottle in the fridge, washing the pump parts with her cooperation upstairs as she hung out in the Boppy and watched me a few minutes. The day before, I pumped while she was playing in her high chair and she lost patience just minutes in and started wailing. But I have to pump to replace the feeding I’m giving her by bottle in order to keep my supply up; and I have to feed her a bottle a day to keep her bottle-trained. It’s just hard on my own. I don’t know how people do it with multiple young kids.

Mr. W has been eager for us to go to the fertility clinic and sign the release papers so that they can stop storing our remaining 3 embryos. It costs $50/month for the storage, and if we choose to not pay it anymore, we can tell them whether to discard, donate, or use the embryos for research. The fertility doctor we’d worked the most with wanted to meet Allie, and I found out he’s in next Wednesday, so I guess I’ll take Allie down there and see what our options about the embryos are. I think it’d be nice if a mixed-race couple trying to conceive could use our “A” quality embryo(s), but I’m not sure if it works that way. Plus, I don’t want some kid in the future to have some identity crisis knowing genetic mom and dad are out there somewhere. I believe the soul that comes thru is just borrowing the vehicle of a body to do what it needs to in this lifetime, so the soul that goes to the parents was meant to be there with those parents, regardless of what the genetic makeup of the soul’s body is. But that doesn’t change the fact that a donated embryo situation could still cause a very normal human reaction of wanting to know where he/she came from in terms of genetics. Plus, I’d wonder about Allie’s full genetic brother or sister out there. I think I’m now undecided what to do. Which is why I need to talk to the doctor. Maybe donating the entire embryo to a couple isn’t even an option.

I’m just rambling now because I’m scared to let this connection go. This blog post. This cyber-touching of the outside, to other living adults, even though you guys don’t touch back at the same time I reach out.

I can’t wait until Susanne becomes available. I don’t think being a stay-at-home mom is an option for me mentally at this point, even tho that’s still the preferred situation in Mr. W’s opinion. Work is going thru major layoffs and moving people around, so it may be barely recognizable when I get back there. I think I’m losing my reporter, as the County is eliminating all court reporters from Civil trial courtrooms. 🙁 My reporter Louise has been a big sister to me for the last 10+ years, full of encouragement, level-headedness, advice, empathy, and education on life/nutrition/exercise. It doesn’t mean she’ll vanish from my life, but it sure makes returning to work less something to look forward to. Rebecca had said last November that work isn’t going to lay me off, but I’ll be working maybe 2-3 courtrooms. I’d thought that was rather impossible at the time; how can one judge’s clerk work for multiple judges in fully-functioning courtrooms? It’d be impossible. But after receiving a budget memo from the courts, and after hearing from coworkers what the budget meetings have been, it looks like that’s exactly what’s going to happen. Never would’ve expected that, even with Rebecca saying such.

Followed Rebecca’s advice, and called the vet. Vet said I’d better bring him in. It was challenging bringing the baby AND the cat, having to put both in their respective carriers, but it went fine. Baby cooperated. Cat complained but he’d been worse.

Vet suspects hyperthyroidism due to Dodo’s increased food/water intake, also kidney disease. One or the other would cause high blood pressure, which gives headaches, which would make the cat yowl more at night. They took a full blood panel and she’ll call me with the results later today. Ultrasound revealed enlarged kidneys with cysts inside. The vet said it’s seen in exotic breeds (like Dodo, I guess), but that she’s surprised he’s 14 years old because they usually see this in younger cats. She’s impressed he’s lived this long and sorta credits how much water he always drinks. The bloodwork will tell how much of the kidneys are operating. Cats are considered to have high blood pressure if it measures 180. Dodo came in at 230 or 240. She said instead of treating the high blood pressure immediately, she’ll wait for the results of the blood test, because if it’s the thyroid, treating that would cause the blood pressure to go back to normal, then I woudln’t have to medicate for the blood pressure alone. She was very impressed with Dodo, said he was very good when they were doing all the tests and blood draws. She gave me a complimentary ear cleaning and claw trimming for the cat. I still feel like the worst cat mom ever.

Allie charmed everyone at the vet’s. The vet herself even sat in my car and watched Allie for me while I paid the receptionist. The receptionist jinxed me, tho. She asked how long Allie’s sleeping, and I told her 11 hours or so a night. She was impressed and said her grandkid at 10 months won’t sleep for more than a couple of hours at a time, because her daughter-in-law picks up the baby at the slightest sound and stir. I said it took some work getting her daytime naps in but it did make her nighttime sleep extend. So what does Allie do last nite? Went down at 7:30p, up at 11p for a feeding, went back down, up at 4:30a for a feeding, and is now sleeping still. So things are all messed up right now and I’m nervous and stressed because I’ll have to leave the house at some point for a couple of hours when the cleaning people get here, not sure when they ever come. Hopefully not right at naptime or when I’m pumping. 🙁 Considering waking her up.

When the vet was discussing Dodo’s kidney ultrasound results with me, it was past Allie’s naptime so she started getting fussy in her carrier. Suddenly Allie said, “I’m ready!”
The vet looked at her in surprise. “What did you say?”
I said, “Did you said you’re ready? Are you ready to go home?”
The vet said, “That’s what I heard, too!”

Back to Dodo. I told the vet he’s shown no sign of discomfort. She said that’s cuz he’s such a sweet cat. The yowling appears to be part of his eating routine…maybe he’s eating more and awake more at night due to the headache/high blood pressure, so I associate yowling with food but the two are only related in timing. They say that people who own pets benefit by having lower blood pressure, because pets are so good for/to their owners. Maybe I need to get Dodo a pet.

I just wrote this in response to a conversation “Accidentally Me” and I were having in the comment section of the prior post.

“It’s really hard when I’m doing the mommy thing 24/7 to get a grip and keep the perspective open. I have to remind myself that whatever’s happening or not happening on this nap isn’t going to ruin her. She just slept 30 mins on her 1st nap, so I wasn’t in the best place earlier, but now she’s been down almost 2 hrs on her 2nd nap, so I AM feeling better, altho still tired. I’m so much more optimistic when she’s been sleeping longer, altho this was a very restless nap (I’ve been reading baby help books on the computer with a window of her baby monitor up next to the book text window).

It helped tremendously when I read in a book that babies are “notoriously restless sleepers.” I remind myself of that all the time when she stirs. I just read that babies’ biological clocks finish maturing and tuning at about 40 weeks (10 MONTHS!) and that there’s little we can do about erratic naps or short naps before then, except to provide them the opportunities to nap and sleep, which I do like my life depends on it. I should make that last bit its own blog post so I can look back to “self-soothe” when I need it.”

It’s amazing how much of a set-back it is for me emotionally when a wrench gets thrown into the little I feel confident about. The night before Allie had her bedtime fit and wouldn’t go down to sleep after I’d already done my bedtime routine, I was just telling Mr. W that I used to dread evenings because it’s her fussy time when I would feel the most helpless, but now that I knew her bedtime routine and had her sleeping through the night, nighttimes had become the predictable easy times and I looked forward to them. And then BAM, she threw me that curveball.

Yesterday, she threw me another curveball — the same one, actually. Mr. W came home from work and we all went out to our favorite neighborhood Greek place for dinner. The family that runs it knows us so I always feel comfortable bringing Allie there in case she acts up. She didn’t; she hung out and did her own thing, charming the patrons. We had women smile at her, one grandmotherly type came by on her way out to tell us what a pretty baby Allie is. We came home and because Allie had a couple of crappy 30-40 min naps after her nice solid 2.5 hour morning nap, decided to put her to bed early after a bath.
By the way, altho she’d always had fun in the bathtub before, this time and the time before, she decided she hated the water and would now scream and cry her way through the entire bath. (We’re still only bathing once a week.) I don’t know what’s changed, except her preferences. Anyway, I was saying to Mr. W what a great baby Allie is and that I had thought she was colicky early on, but that now I’m convinced she is an easy-temperament baby who just was overtired in the beginning due to my ignorance of proper babycare. Famous last words, again.

So the bedtime routine went as usual; she’d spent so much energy screaming at her bath that she fell asleep early nursing. After getting her to weakly eat from both sides, I put her to bed. In 8 minutes, the cat, in our bedroom, started his yowling thing. I was downstairs and couldn’t make it upstairs fast enough to stop him. I could only watch the baby monitor on my cell phone helplessly as Allie roused…rolled to her left side in her soothing position to suck her thumb, and then…it didn’t work. She started screaming. Since she rejected her pacifier, I have no clue how to put her back down at night anymore. I went up and picked her up, she stopped crying. I put her back down, she started crying again. I picked her back up. She kept crying. Mr. W finally came in and said he’d take over and that I was too stressed. I was just angry at the cat. He told me to go to sleep.

I was unable to sleep, but did observe the monitor a little. Holding her in the bedroom wasn’t lulling her to sleep, so he went downstairs and put her in the swing. I heard the chirping sound of the bird sound effects from the swing. She was down there in the swing for quite awhile. Mr. W said she fell asleep in the swing and after he turned it off, she remained asleep. He picked her up and walked her up to her bedroom, where she was still nodding off on him. As soon as he went in, she started screaming and crying again. I got up and went to them just as Mr. W came to me, with the baby alone in the crib crying, to tell me he was going to bring her giant swing up here so she could sleep in it. I asked to try to put her down the way I nap her, which was what worked at her last bedtime fit a week ago (the only other one since she was 6 weeks old). She probably had exhausted herself by this point, because she got into her sleepy position with her right cheek against my chest, left thumb in her mouth, and was soon asleep on me. The only hard part was that I couldn’t see in the dark to confirm her eyes were closed, so I tried to go by sound and the feel of her body, and waited it out a couple of minutes. Then I gently lowered her into her crib. She woke briefly but went right back to sleep on her back, barely moving. The rest of the night went all right, except that every time Dodo made a noise I’d freak out. Dodo only had to be pulled from the door once before morning and placed in front of his food in our room.

I woke up a little past 4am when Mr. W got up to go to the gym. He tried to sneak out of our room to do all his getting ready in the bathroom downstairs to let me sleep, but I decided that since I was already awake and anxious anyway, I may as well pump as I was definitely engorged. By the time I was done with the handpump, he was gone. I snuck downstairs, stored the milk, washed the pump parts upstairs, and went to bed after laying awake nervously for almost an hour. Even my dreams were of the nervous, stressful sort.

Allie was awake in her crib, quietly kicking around and doing her own thing, super-early at something like 7:15am by the time I woke and checked the monitor. That’s 6:15a Allie-time. I gave her some time to see if she would fall back asleep, and when she didn’t, I got up, brushed my teeth and washed my face, cleaned out the cat litter (now that it was next to his food, I have to be more diligent), and went and got her. I noticed in the wee hours of the morning how it felt like I was afraid of her, like she’s the boss and I’m at her bidding, hoping she doesn’t bite my head off. It still feels that way now. I didn’t enjoy my time with her this morning like I had yesterday. I was just scared. I’m not sure what exactly I’m scared of, because it’s not like she could die or fire me or get terribly sick or get into much trouble at this age. But I just felt like I was insecure again. It remains so important that I nap her well, sleep her well, and there are all these external factors I can’t control, like garbage trucks, gardeners, neighbors’ noisy kids, a neighbor’s barking dog. Things are already tricky because of daily savings throwing me for a loop.

Allie didn’t settle right away when I soothed her for her morning nap earlier. She was tired and turned from side to side, rubbing her face in my shirt, but would pop in and out of the sleepy position. Each time she popped out, my anxiety level would go up. What if she doesn’t nap? What if all her naps today go crappy and she’s too wired to sleep tonight? What if what if what if… I couldn’t take the stress of things going “wrong.” I feel so emotionally exhausted and physically exhausted from just last night, and the prior nights of popping awake to shush the cat even though I should be getting at least 8-10 hours of sleep solid cuz that’s what the baby does. But I don’t; I get a few at a time between the cat, having to get up to pump, and the anxiety making me unable to fall right back to sleep after my night awakenings.

Good thing I have another therapy session coming up. I really am looking forward to Susanne coming onboard. These are all nothings to her, as I’m sure they ought to be. Mr. W has said a few times that he hopes Susanne is able to put Allie to sleep in a different way from the way I do, with the walking soothing lulling Allie to sleep before I put her down. I don’t know of another way that works; the putting down awake-but-drowsy technique just makes Allie pop fully awake and cry. Sometimes if I have an awkward or rough put-down and she wakes up more than just a little bit, she pops up wide-eyed, turns her head, and I know I’m screwed; she’s not going to be sleepy enough to drop into sleep. I’d have to pick her up and start the soothing all over again. Mr. W is unable to nap Allie unless she crashes from exhaustion on him, like she did on Sunday at Eddie & Michelle’s shower. There has to be a better way, but I’m not sure if the problem is with my ability to figure it out or do it right, or with Allie resisting any other way to go into her nap.

I need a break, but there’s no such thing. I’m down to 115 lbs, which is 3 lbs below my wedding weight. This isn’t a healthy sign.

I hit a realization yesterday. My being a first time mom with zero baby experience is big-time screwing with me because I don’t have context to evaluate any issues to come up. Like yesterday, Allie rejected the bottle. She was given a bottle a day a few times a week to keep her bottle-trained so that when I return to work, she could take to the bottle. However, when she got sick and rejected the bottle (probably due to congestion and/or need for nursing comfort), I indulged her and we didn’t bottlefeed for 10 days. When Mr. W touched the bottle to her mouth yesterday at a feeding time, she wailed and screamed and cried like she was in pain. I knew I wasn’t supposed to be around so she doesn’t think, “Hey, mom’s right THERE, I’m just gonna scream until she puts her boob in my mouth.” So I hid out upstairs, afraid to pump because I may have to nurse her if she won’t eat. Listening to her crying downstairs, I felt miserable and scared, like this is The Worst That Could Happen. Eventually, Mr. W worked on her for an hour upstairs as I researched madly on the PC downstairs for a magical cure to bottle rejection (also emailing pediatrician, calling the lactation clinic which was closed for the weekend, emailing the 2 nannies we’re interviewing this weekend to see if they have suggestions which, btw, turned out to be a great test), and suddenly the crying stopped. Soon he presented me with an empty bottle. He said she’d drank all 4.5 oz in 10 minutes, after crying an hour and exhausting herself. She knocked out in a long nap soon afterwards. Mr. W said that he knew I’d be freaking out, which is why he tried so hard to get her to drink the bottle. If it were just up to him, he would’ve said, “No biggie, we’ll try a bottle again some other time, just nurse her.” (Altho apparently, after talking to lots of people and reading lots of suggestions, is the worst thing to do cuz then the baby thinks, “Hey, I just have to hold out and I’ll get a boob.”) Because to him, this isn’t the end of the world.

In response to a status message about this I’d posted on the social networking site, a lot of people online who are parents addressed the crying aspect, telling me it’s okay, babies cry. Don’t let the crying get to you. That confused me, cuz I was like, “How can you not see? It’s not the CRYING. She’s REJECTING THE BOTTLE! What can I do?! She’s gonna STARVE TO DEATH if she won’t drink out of a bottle when I go back to work! This is The Worst That Could Happen!” It wasn’t until a friend said, “Chances are good that even if she’ll never reliably take the bottle, she’ll adjust once you leave her with the nanny. I’ve never heard of anyone who had to quit work because of that :P”, that I got some perspective. I’d read that this is common at Allie’s age of 3-4 months; even college roommie Diana’s baby, 2 weeks younger and who never had a break from the bottle since she was days old, suddenly rejected the bottle a few days ago. They’re just at a point where they realize they have a preference, and the preference is mommy’s breasts. You just have to keep at it (and there are tons of suggestions out there with distraction methods to get the baby to take the bottle again), and the baby may miss 1-2 feedings doing a stand-off with you or rather, with the person who’s preferably not mommy who’s giving the bottle, but the baby will take to the bottle instead of starve. So it’s the first of many battles of wills, I guess, and persistence wins out. Allie, in the case of yesterday, held out an hour. Today, after Allie again cried in a standard cradle hold once the bottle nipple touched her mouth, Mr. W held her facing outward and walked her around and fed her the bottle from behind, as she was distracted looking around. The crying lasted minutes, if that. Hopefully she’ll get used to the bottle again very soon, no more than a few days of rejection. I’m not going to take any more breaks from bottle-training.

Apparently, bottle rejection is NOT The Worst That Could Happen. It’s just foreign to me so I assume everything that’s unexpected and troublesome is The Worst That Could Happen. I’m sure there are people who are as ignorant of baby issues as I am but who don’t assume that every new thing is The Worst, but instead, don’t think or even realize how bad something is until someone, like a pediatrician, tells them so. “What? Our baby needs to be hospitalized? We just thought it was a little cold!” I think those people have it easier, mood-wise. I’m told that I instantly jump to The Worst because I’m a perfectionist (Mr. W) and because I don’t do well being taken by surprise (Rebecca) and the pessimistic fear is a product of postpartum depression (doctors). I used to roll with the punches more easily, but I’m unable to now, thanks to this biochemical imbalance crap going on. Everything feels like it rests on the moment being perfect. That’s a lot of pressure on each moment.

So, I need to remind myself of the bigger picture. She will survive this, and that, and even those things I still don’t know could happen cuz people don’t talk about it (which I’m pretty ticked about, btw). I am not going to be prepared for every complication that could/will happen, but I’m going to try not to assume each of those complications is The Worst That Could Happen. Most likely, it’ll just be a step-by-step resolution, like bottle rejection. Oh, she’s being stubborn about eating from a bottle? Okay, we’ll just keep trying the bottle for awhile, comfort her in between bouts of crying so it doesn’t become traumatic, and try different holds and distractions, and when she gets hungry enough, she’ll take it. She won’t skip more than 1-2 feedings (according to lactation nurse advice given to Diana), even tho it may happen each bottle for a few days. Then after that she’ll be accustomed to the bottle again. No biggie. No kid has ever been refused from a college because this bottle didn’t go down easily. And an even bigger picture than that — this is about the evolution of Allie’s soul; she’s here as my daughter to learn some things about life and my job is just to make sure she’s as safe, healthy and happy as I can reasonably control as she walks her life’s journey. Her choices and growth are independent of me; I have influence, not control. Her soul is not mine to control. Her paths and footsteps are not mine to map out. So this one too-short nap, this one irregular night, this one off-moment, is just that: one nap, one night, one moment. Nothing in the overall course of her existence here.

So stop worrying about every moment, Cindy. She’s healthy, bright, and seems mostly happy. That’s all the positive influence you need to and can give for now.