Signs

So the Manling turns 1 in 6 days. What a wild rumpus the last year has been! I look at him everyday and see the little boy-child he is morphing into, and the sweet little infant that I cradled in my arms is fading away. I try to consciously remember these days, and I am very very glad that I took pictures almost every day this last year. I have recently put away (completely: washed, folded, "spacebagged," boxed up, and directed Mark where to stash) his 0-3 mo baby clothes, and have a whole stack of 6-12 mo clothes to do as well.

The weather has turned distinctly autumnal and the crisp days are kind of a welcome relief to those hotter than hell days of the summer. But still the seasonal change makes me sad as it always does. I just really do not like being cold. My lower core body temperature means that I will have icy-cold hands and feet and will have to wear sweaters for the next 7 months. I was trying to remember the weather that happened last October. I remember the 2nd as a very warm, t-shirt an maternity capris sort of day as I met Mark at work for a surprise lunch. But I can't for the life of me really remember anything after I delivered. I remember some days of sunshine, but only from the rays of sun shiny through the windows. I know we dragged the Manling out as much as possible, but I can't remember anything particular. I just remember the days getting shorter and my life being stretched out so that time crawled. I remember thinking I knew nothing about being a mother and not knowing what to do with an infant. I played WebSudoku and surfed the internet reading mommy-blogs, while the Manling slept on my lap or I gazed at his tiny face in his swing. I remember crying everyday when Mark would get home, just letting myself express the feelings I kept bottled up inside all day, trying not to let my oblivious infant know how overwhelmed I was. I remember feeling that my body would never stop bleeding nor recover from the incontinence. I remember the grief. Oh, do I remember the grief I felt for the person I was before: the scholar, the go-to-girl, the lover of live music, the drunk. I felt like such an inept failure; I had never even had an entry-level job in my chosen job field, I had a degree and 9/10ths, I wasn't contributing to my household. I felt like such a dependent little girl/housewife rather than the educated independent woman that I was, and am. I remember feeling emasculated, or whatever the female equivalent is, by having a man take care of me. I demanded and summararily received a direct-deposit "allowance" to partly alleviate these feelings. I remember hating Mark because I was now forced to wash the dishes, do the laundry, and do the housework all by myself when all I wanted to do was lie on the couch and cry. I remember Mark trying so hard to understand my grief, my confusion, my despair, and my still wildly out of control hormones. I remember the 2 hours twice a week when I went to my last class at college, bringing the Manling about half the time, and listening with pride to everyone ooh and aah over him and how quiet he was as we had lectures.

I was just thinking about those first few weeks when my friend Jessica had her baby, and I sent her a cautious email telling her about the need to grieve, and how the first three months are like triage and merely survival, and all these memories came back to me. Man, those first weeks were hard. And the lack of sleep! I can really relate to the use of sleep-deprivation as torture.


And despite all this, or maybe because of it, I'm still desperately, soul-searchingly anxious or eager or whatever to have a second baby. Goddamn the lack of libido. I can't make the Manling wean; he and I both love breastfeeding so, and I'm not going to pressure him to stop, even if it means I have to wait a while longer to hold Old Number 2 in my arms.

Denied X2

1. Nothing is worse than getting really into a blog only to have it turn password protected.
The Rabbit Lived and Horkin Ramblings, I will miss you.

2. This week I took a pregnancy test to see if Operation Still Haven't Gotten My Period, Still Breastfeeding, Still Want Another Child was a success. Nope. I have a libido that is an un-libido, and I frequently feel too "touched out" by the Manling to want to even try to have sex. But I so desparately would like to be pregnant again. I am so happy with the Manling and want him to have a sibling or more. I want to feel this good about more children. I can't even imagine how infertile people must feel going through this month after month. I just can't. I can only just keep trying and have sworn not to get too upset until my period has returned.

Elevensies

The Manling reached the eleventh month yesterday. I am absolutely dumbfounded thinking about how he has changed over the course of the last year and that his birthday is 4 weeks away.

This month was interesting in many ways. Physically, the Manling stands for a few seconds at a time, "falling" to the floor to crawl away with softer and softer thumps. He will cruise along any stationary object, and when entranced by getting his little mitts on taboos items such as the remote control, cell phones, car key/alarm remote, or Xbox controller will sometimes stand on his own for up to 10 seconds at a time.

He has learned the signs for UP, and perhaps ALL DONE, but still hasn't shown me NURSE, CAT, EAT, WATER, or CUP. He has been eating lots of table foods, but will gag and choke and cough and finally vomit when he gets a slightly big chunk of any Stage 3 baby foods. It's almost as if he thinks it's a waste of his time to be eating the 3s: "give me the real stuff or don't bother." He shakes his head vigorously back and forth to indicate I should not feed him whatever tasty morsel I'm trying not to shove down his throat at the time, and also shakes his head like that while laughing like a little game where I'm assuming he likes the way his view changes rapidly. Sleeping has been great this month with most nights hitting the hay around 8ish and waking up once anywhere between 3:30 and 6:30 am, and falling back to sleep until about 9am.

Verbally, I think he pulls out MAMA and UH-OH with each meaning what they say, with DADA coming out very rarely. We've had a few poops and pees in his little potty when I've been so lucky as to put him on it when he has to go. He will sit on the pot for a few minutes at a time but I don't think he knows what he's really supposed to be doing there. We moved it out of his room and into the bathroom and let him watch us as we both go. Mark is of course even more thrilled he doesn't have a lock on the bathroom door now. Speaking of doors, the Manling's favorite activity is opening and shutting things: books, doors, windows, and the dog crate.,Climbing up stairs is also a fun activity for the little guy.

I went to the Denver Public Library's used book sale and got about 30+ videos, CDs, and board- and story-books to add to our collection. I think the Manling is behind in his verbal learning. I am very introverted and can go a whole day not pointing out things to him. He doesn't point whatsoever and I feel very guilty like I'm starving his little brain. I never really enjoyed reading baby books to him and pointing out every little object; I read A Series of Unfortunate Events to him for his bedtime stories.

He has reached the 48 week growth spurt/sleep regression and is being a pain in the butt lately: needy during the day, nursing every.waking.second, and night sleep has also been disrupted. But I know this too will pass, and relish each minute spent with my little Manling. Watching him explore this big wide world with a smile for everyone but still coming back to the safety of my arms is my most favorite thing ever.