2nd child syndrome

I have a whole folder full of Avery's ultrasound pictures tucked safely away in her baby box -- 6 weeks, 9 weeks, 12 weeks, 18 weeks, 30 weeks, 37 weeks.  I had one hanging on the refrigerator throughout my entire pregnancy. And I always had one in my purse ready to show off wherever I could. I was so proud of my little gummy bear!

This time around, the picture on this blog is all there is. Literally. There was an envelope with these 12-week originals and there was a pile from the 6-week ultrasound too. But they've all mysteriously disappeared. I didn't have a chance to show them off to anybody. Not even my mother.

I was the second child in my family. When I was pregnant with Avery, I asked my mother if I could look at my own baby book. She searched and searched and searched and finally concluded that maybe she just never made one. 

So I guess this is the way it goes. I'm so sorry Baby Bahama. It looks like you have officially contracted the second child syndrome.

Dear Avery -- 7 months old

Dear Avery,

I am writing this letter 2 weeks late because you give me very little time to write these days! You are one busy little girl -- crawling all over the place and getting into everything. Half the time I am literally out of breath from chasing you. 

Oh and the other day I went to get you after a nap and there you were, standing up in your crib with your head and arms dangling over the side -- you almost gave me a heart attack!! Daddy and Papa lowered the crib that night! 

These pictures were from the day you turned 7 months old. We took you to Lake Massapoag where Mommy grew up. It was such a wonderful, special day. Daddy and I love you so much.

Love,

Mommy

introducing Baby Bahama!

Yes, it really is a baby in there with a real beating heart, real waving arms and real kicking feet. It's official -- I am really having another baby!

good-bye to my skinny jeans

I remember about a week after Avery was born, I braved it up, pulled out my skinny jeans and tried to squeeze myself into them. I could barely get one leg in. It was depressing. But I kept working at it. 

I also remember the day a month or two later that I got both legs in. And I remember the day I zipped them all the way up. Pure bliss. 

I've worn those beautiful skinny jeans just about every day since. (And I've washed them a thousand times too due to all the spit-up). The bottoms are now frayed and just a week or so ago I noticed a tiny little tear in the left knee that has since grown into a full-blown hole. My jeans have been like my post-partum blankie. I don't go anywhere without them.

Sadly, though, I think our relationship is coming to an end. I am wearing them right now as I type this. But I have to be honest, I'm not very comfortable. I've got a muffin top and it doesn't feel good. And here's a confession -- sometimes when I'm driving, I actually unzip them and let my belly out. 

Last time around I couldn't wait to wear my maternity clothes. I had nothing but pure pride for my elastic waist bands and tent shirts. This time around is very different. I look at my maternity wardrobe and I feel a certain loathing. I swear, I just packed it all up.

I've dreaded this day. But I think it might be time. Goodbye skinny jeans. Welcome back maternity. 

Look Who's Crawling!

can I be clear on something?

I love my daughter. I love her incredibly, more uniquely than anything I've ever loved in my life. It's a love that is pure and unconditional and from the deepest part of my core. She is my biggest joy and my greatest pride. I have moments with her that are so sweet and and wonderful I want to box them up and save them forever. I can honestly say she is the best gift I have ever been given.

But like any mother, I have moments that are difficult too. Motherhood is hard. I do love it, but it's much harder than I ever thought it would be. Adjusting to being a SAHM is hard too. Wonderful, yes. But also hard. Being pregnant while raising a 6-month-old is hard too. Also wonderful. But also hard.

I try not to show my frustrations to my daughter. I don't yell at her. I don't ignore her. Even in my most annoyed state, even when I am lugging her under my arm while pushing a stroller uphill, I paint a smile on my face and kiss her forehead and tell her in my gentlest voice that I love her. 

Because I do.

well that wasn't fun

Avery is having a 30-minute nap kind of day. What's new. I really am trying to just let it go. But it makes for a VEEEEEEERRRRRRYYYYYYYY long day when nap-time is only 30 minutes. So my husband suggested taking her for a walk. It's a beautiful Saturday afternoon. Why not, right?

I'll tell you why not. Avery decided exactly half-way through our neighborhood loop that she didn't want to be in the stroller anymore. She wanted OUT and she wanted OUT NOW! I realized then that I forgot to bring the ergo carrier with me. I also forgot my cell phone. Nobody was coming to save us. And let me tell you, her screaming doesn't die down in a situation like this. It gets worse and worse and worse and louder and louder and louder. There was only one solution. 

So off we went -- a 17-pound baby in one arm and a giant jogging stroller in the other. Bugs in my face, sweat on my back and my panti-liner bunched up in my undies. Yes I am still wearing panti-liners almost 7 months after delivery. I know I need to do my kegels but I barely have time to breathe, never mind remember to flex. Sorry I digress.

We walked over a mile like that, most of it up-hill. Do you know how heavy 17 pounds is after a mile?!?!? I'm sure I was breaking some cardinal rule of pregnancy with this one. But what choice did I have?

I'm trying to enjoy my beautiful baby girl. I really am. But all I could think was "well this isn't fun." In fact, I said that right out loud for all the world to hear. THIS ISN'T FUN AT ALL!!!!! 

My hands are full. Literally. How I am going to make room in them for another precious, helpless, needy little life? Can somebody please tell me how on earth am I going to do this?

Dear Avery -- your baby brother or sister

Dear Avery,

Yesterday was a special day. You came with me to my 12-week appointment. We had to wait a little while in the waiting room. And you -- my little social butterfly -- you loved it. You smiled and laughed and played peek-a-boo with every person who walked by. You were the hit of the office, with your Pebbles style ponytail and your silly little giggles. You lit up the day. And you were so excited, I think you thought we were at Disney World or something. 

And then it was our turn. I got on the table and faced the stroller so that you could see everything. I know you obviously had no idea what was going on and I know you won't remember it, but it was so amazing for me to share this special moment with you. You were sitting there smiling ear to ear while my midwife and I listened to the little thump-thump-thump-thump-thump of your little baby brother or sister. I'll never forget that moment. My two babies together.

I love you both.

Love,

Mommy

thump-thump-thump-thump-thump

Today was my 12-week appointment and I heard the heartbeat of my new little miracle. I don't know that I truly believed it was in there until I actually heard it for myself. Yup, it's definitely in there.

Avery was so good. We had to wait a little while and she smiled and giggled and played peek-a-boo with everyone who walked by. She was the hit of the office. I think my little social butterfly thought we were at Disney World. 

One woman smiled at me before she left and told me to be sure to enjoy her. I smiled back. And inside something clicked. I think I've been forgetting to do that lately. I've been so caught up in schedules and sleep patterns and stupid nap training that I've been making us both crazy. Neither one of us have been able to enjoy anything.

Who knew enjoying my beautiful baby girl would be such a hard thing to figure out how to do??? I never dreamed that it would take any actual effort. I know I'm a control freak but I never knew that that would be such an impossible fit with motherhood. I should have left that one behind in the delivery room. The two just don't go hand in hand. 

So I am going to stop. I am going to let Avery just be Avery. If she sleeps, she sleeps. And if she doesn't, then oh well. Life will go on. We have too much to enjoy together. 

Who knows, maybe I'll get it right next time around.

i am going to lose my mind

Seriously. A 24 minute nap just isn't enough. It barely even counts. Why won't she sleep? Why??? Oh nap gods please, oh please, oh please help my baby. Her sobs are literally breaking my heart. I am sitting in the hallway right outside her nursery and I am on the verge of big fat sobs myself. I have NO IDEA how to help her.

I swear I'm not selfish. It's not like I want her to nap longer just so that I can have a break. (I mean what kind of break is it anyway when you're stuck in a chair in the hallway the whole time?) I want her to sleep because she needs it. The reason she is fussy all day long is because she isn't getting enough sleep. It's that simple. And all I want is for my baby to be happy. Why on earth is it so hard for me to give her that?!?!

so what's the big secret?

I know there must be some big secret that people aren't telling me. 

When I talk to other moms of 6 and 7-month-olds they tell me that it is the best stage ever. Their babies are blissfully happy, able to entertain themselves and sleeping better than ever. These are the women who bring their little angels with them everywhere they go, proudly showcasing their adorable goos and gaas and giggles for all the world to see.

I am not one of these mothers. And Avery is not one of these babies. Not anymore anyway.

We used to go places. We really did. But these days, even the grocery store is too difficult to manage. She's either in desperate need of a nap, she has a poop in her diaper or she's hungry. Have you ever tried feeding a baby with one arm, grabbing groceries with your other arm and pushing a shopping cart with your hip? I have. And it isn't very fun.  

And I know I've mentioned the car before. She just doesn't like it. You might even go so far to say that she hates it. Some might even call her a car screamer. I don't need to go into more detail than that. You get the picture. It isn't pretty.

The stroller is the same way. If I plan it right and she's tired and the stars are all aligned, she'll sleep. But if she wants to play, then she wants to play. And she doesn't want to be strapped into anything. We've had some pretty embarrassing moments in the neighborhood. What kind of baby screams bloody murder in the stroller?!?!?!

My kind apparently.

I love Avery to the moon and back. But I'll be honest. She isn't easy. Not anymore. Her sweet little giggles still completely light up my life, but they seem to be few and far between these days. They've been replaced with constant fussies.  She whines for my undivided attention every single second of the day. And I swear to you, she is crappiest napper in the history of all babykind.

None of this is her fault. It is all mine. She is just a baby. She only knows what she's been taught and what she's been given. And clearly I'm doing it all wrong. 

HELLO...can somebody please tell me the big secret?!?!!?

I don't feel resentful. I'm not jealous of these other moms. And I really do love my daughter more than anything. But I just feel delinquent (and utterly exhausted of course). Day after day, I try and I try. I put my whole heart and soul into it. But no matter what I do, I just can't seem to make my baby happy. Some days I'm convinced that she actually hates me.

I have no idea what on earth God was thinking by giving me another one. I hope he knows what he's doing.

Because I sure don't.

nap training 101

Like I said in my last post, I had the easiest baby in the world until the day I found out I was pregnant again. She was happy, sweet and simple. Sometimes she'd go days without any tears at all. I always knew what she needed. And her needs were easy to meet. Feed her. Change her. Smile at her. Put her down to sleep. 

She was like clockwork too. She slept 8pm-7am so consistently I don't think she even knew that the hours in between even existed. She wasn't a long napper, but she was consistent. She slept at the same times every day, every 3 hours on the dot. And she never fussed going down. You could put her in her crib and walk away and wallah, beautiful sleeping baby. I thought I had motherhood all figured out.

And then one day something happened. Somebody kidnapped my easy-to-figure-out, happily-sleeping baby and replaced her with a very active, very needy 6-month-old stranger. It started with a growth spurt. And then she started waking at night -- wanting to PLAY!! What?!?!? 

Turns out I hadn't figured out motherhood at all. I had just been spoiled silly for the first 5 months! This was the real deal. And I wasn't prepared for it. And on top of all that, I was pregnant, with my head in the toilet and my body begging for sleep. It wasn't very pretty.

And then there was the nap issue. I'd talk to other moms who told me that their 6-month-olds napped for 2 hours. IN A ROW!! What??!?!? Avery was still like clockwork but her clock was really, really short. Her naps were 30 minutes on the dot. Every single time. 

So I did the only thing I could. I took out every sleep book from the library and read until I was blue in the face. And all of the books confirmed it -- 30 minute naps were not enough. Not for her and not for me. I needed a break. And 30 minutes was barely long enough for me to pee, brush my teeth and inhale a sleeve of saltines. 

I was slowly but surely going crazy.

I tried letting her cry. I tried soothing her right away. I tried letting her nap with me. I tried putting her down at different times. Every solution just created a new problem. I felt more and more inadequate. And more and more exhausted. Sleep is one of the most basic needs and I couldn't figure out a way to provide that for my daughter. I was a failure.

Going anywhere in the car presented even more problems. Either I was trying desperately for her to fall asleep or I was trying desperately for her to not fall asleep so it wouldn't ruin her nap. I'd drive with the windows open, radio turned up, my arm in the back swinging toys in her face and the stress in the pit of my stomach making me physically ill. 

Yup, nap-time was going to be the death of me.

I write this post as if it's a problem of the past that's been solved. Sorry to disappoint you but it hasn't. I sit here now in Avery's nursery with the black-out shades hiding me away from the beautiful day. I am trying a new form of nap training this week. She is supposed to be sleeping and I'm here to soothe her back to sleep when she wakes up. Fat chance. She is babbling away right now and playing with her toes. How do you soothe that? I guess it beats screaming. But this girl could care less about sleep. 

I wish I could say the same for myself.

my little brown dress

I swear I had the easiest baby in the world until the day I found out I was pregnant again. I am 11 weeks today and I'm still wondering how on earth this happened. It's not like my husband and I don't know where babies come from. And we're not stupid either. 

Well maybe a little. 

I didn't want to go back on the pill. He didn't want to use condoms. Insurance wouldn't cover an IUD. And then we thought, well maybe we should just leave it in God's hands. It might be nice to have two close together. 

It took a lot of effort to get pregnant the first (and second) times -- ovulation predictor kits, pre-seed, charting, temping, boring planned out baby-making sex, and lots and lots of stress. Never in a million years did I think this would actually happen with nothing. And I mean nothing! Other than a few margaritas on the beach of course. And a little brown dress. Turns out I'm Fertile Myrtle.

Let me tell you about this little brown dress. I wore it to the brunch the morning after our wedding. And I wore it again on our honeymoon in Switzerland. The dress is nothing fancy but it's special to me and it's my favorite. Did I mention it's a size 4? I suppose that might be why it's my favorite.

Anyway, shortly after Avery was born, my husband's company rewarded him with an all-expense-paid trip to the Bahamas. It was that day that I reached into the back of my closet and pulled out my little brown dress and hung it on my closet door. I was not going to be the girl who has a baby and then lets herself go. I just wasn't going to be her. I was going to get my  butt (and my belly) back into that size 4 dress if it killed me.

And did I work my butt off!! Once Avery started sleeping through the night, I started dragging myself out of bed at 5:30 to make it to my 6am spinning classes at the gym. (Seriously who does that?!?!) I took a Pilates class on Saturdays and a Strength Training class on Sundays. I followed Weight Watchers religiously and never missed a meeting. I didn't eat desert. I cut my carbs. And within 4 months I had lost ALL of my baby weight plus an additional 8lbs. I was back to my wedding weight. And back into my size 4 dress!

The picture on the sidebar is from the Bahamas. Me in my little brown dress. This might have actually been taken just hours before we conceived (or after -- who can remember?) So where did that dress get me? Feeling sexy enough to seduce my husband? Being sexy enough for him to seduce me back? And there we go. Knocked up again. 

I blame the dress.

Well back to the back of my closet it goes. Because it will be a long LONG time before I'll fit into that thing again, if ever. So much for all that work. All those early mornings. All that determination. Now when people see me they think, "Poor thing still hasn't taken her baby weight off. She's still got a belly." And this is what I was so determined to avoid in the first place. And that's what pisses me off more than anything -- I did avoid it, dammit. 

Like I said, I have nobody to blame but the damn dress.