On November 26, Anastasia went to the pediatrician for her nine-month visit. I do feel silly sometimes making these visits when I know perfectly well that she's not only well but intelligent, healthy, bright, and well above average. However, it's always nice to get outside confirmation of these things.
Anyway, she was 17.6 lbs, which is 30th percentile for her age; 28 inches tall (67%); and her head was 17.9 inches around (88%). She's already doing pretty much all the milestones from the 6 to 12 month handout the pediatrician gave me: sitting alone, reaching for things she wants, transferring objects between hands, crawling well, pulling herself to standing (not well yet, but that's a 12-month milestone), making noises to show her displeasure or satisfaction (this she does vehemently and constantly), looking for toys or balls that fall out of sight, becoming distressed if a toy is taken away (boy, does she ever!), responding to her name and recognizing our names, pushing toys away when she doesn't want them, playing patty cake, dancing and bouncing to music, and clapping her hands. Some people might disagree whether she's said her first word, but she regularly looks at me and says "Mama" when she wants me...and if that's not talking, I don't know what is. And, of course, she certainly "shows mild to severe anxiety at separation from parent." Make that, "screams in protest at the sight of Mommy's back, even if Mommy is just picking up toys or something and not actually leaving the room." But I don't mind. She has every right to insist on my presence. It won't be long before she'll be all too eager to get away from me. Sigh.
The one thing she hasn't done on the list is wave goodbye. Probably because I've never tried to teach that to her. Yet.
Although, on second thought, I've never tried to teach her any of these things.
When I read that she should "crawl well" by twelve months, I was curious whether her current method of motion qualified as "crawling well," so I asked the pediatrician and put Anastasia on the floor to demonstrate. Naturally, as soon as I put her down, she immediately began crawling away from me, eager to explore a new floor.
"Yes," the pediatrician said patiently, already tired of my unending exclamations about how advanced Anastasia is in every way, "she's definitely crawling."
According to the handout, we do have some exciting new developments to look forward to:
She might try to talk to herself in the mirror. She hasn't done that yet. Then again, she doesn't try to talk to other babies, either...just smiles and reaches for them, which is what she does to her image, too.
She might start offering toys or object to others but want them to be returned. So cute. Her friend Jubilant, who's six months older, does this to me in church all the time, and it never fails to crack me up. I can't wait till Anastasia is doing this one.
Ah. So fun to watch the changes--she really is different every day now. Not long ago she crawled away from me for the first time--it gave me quite a turn. I was in the bathroom (of course; wouldn't that be the way?), and I put her on the floor of the bathroom while I peed--which I always do. But this time, instead of sitting there happily looking for pieces of fuzz to eat as she usually does, Anastasia was no sooner on the floor than she was happily crawling away--out the bathroom door. I was too flabbergasted to be able to get off the toilet quickly.
Luckily Matt was home, so I called for him to come keep an eye on her while I caught up.
But I can understand all the cliches now. It really does seem like yesterday that she couldn't even control her arms, and now she's crawling away from me. Next thing I know she'll be driving and moving out of the house.
At least I'll always have the satisfaction of knowing I took advantage of every moment she did want to be with me and enjoyed it...
Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothering. Show all posts
12.04.2008
11.05.2008
I'm happy to be a mom
The other day I read an article in The Atlantic Monthly that talked about happiness. It claimed that although people say their children make them happy, having them record their level of happiness at specific moments throughout the day shows that parenting actually isn't their favorite activity--it ranks just above housework. That annoyed me. Maybe most people don't like parenting, I thought, but I certainly do.
But when I thought about it more, I had to admit that parenting is hard work. There's a reason why I look forward to Matt coming home every night so I can let him play with Anastasia while I do something else. There's a reason why I'm always happy when our neighbor Mary comes over to play with the baby. And although I enjoy playing with her tremendously, I like getting breaks, too. It's hard to hardly ever be able to do anything for yourself.
And yet, I think there must be something more to happiness than mere day-to-day moments. Even if your perceived level of enjoyment of daily activities is lower while you're taking care of children, there is another level at which they make us much, much happier. There must be, or people wouldn't keep wanting them. Yesterday my sister called me in a bad mood. "I feel generally dissatisfied with life," she said. I was surprised by my own reaction, because of course I knew what she was talking about. Everyone feels generally dissatisfied with life sometimes, right? And yet when she said it, my reaction was more one of commiseration than identification. Oh yes, I thought. I remember what that feels like. When did I last feel that way? Of course. It was when I was pregnant.
But I haven't felt a moment of it since Anastasia was born.
Does that mean I'll live happily ever after? Not necessarily. I suppose there might come a time in my life when I will again feel a vague, general discontent with my life. But right now, I can't imagine ever feeling that again. Yes, my day-to-day life might be hard or boring or filled with uninteresting activities like figuring out how to get poop stains off my jeans. But the big picture of my life is changed irrevocably toward happiness. I am, as Chesterton says, "at peace with the universe," even if I might be "at war with the world."
There are plenty of explanations for why having children would give people such a deep overall satisfaction with life, even in the face of daily irritations. The easiest explanation is the scientific one: we are biologically designed to reproduce, so having accomplished that makes us feel that we've satisfied a lifelong need. And maybe that is why.
Or maybe it's that Anastasia is such a perfect, lovely, beautiful, and blessed being that her mere presence in my life is a light that illumines everything it touches, giving me an overriding sense of peace, fulfillment, and joy.
Yeah, that second one is definitely it.
But when I thought about it more, I had to admit that parenting is hard work. There's a reason why I look forward to Matt coming home every night so I can let him play with Anastasia while I do something else. There's a reason why I'm always happy when our neighbor Mary comes over to play with the baby. And although I enjoy playing with her tremendously, I like getting breaks, too. It's hard to hardly ever be able to do anything for yourself.
And yet, I think there must be something more to happiness than mere day-to-day moments. Even if your perceived level of enjoyment of daily activities is lower while you're taking care of children, there is another level at which they make us much, much happier. There must be, or people wouldn't keep wanting them. Yesterday my sister called me in a bad mood. "I feel generally dissatisfied with life," she said. I was surprised by my own reaction, because of course I knew what she was talking about. Everyone feels generally dissatisfied with life sometimes, right? And yet when she said it, my reaction was more one of commiseration than identification. Oh yes, I thought. I remember what that feels like. When did I last feel that way? Of course. It was when I was pregnant.
But I haven't felt a moment of it since Anastasia was born.
Does that mean I'll live happily ever after? Not necessarily. I suppose there might come a time in my life when I will again feel a vague, general discontent with my life. But right now, I can't imagine ever feeling that again. Yes, my day-to-day life might be hard or boring or filled with uninteresting activities like figuring out how to get poop stains off my jeans. But the big picture of my life is changed irrevocably toward happiness. I am, as Chesterton says, "at peace with the universe," even if I might be "at war with the world."
There are plenty of explanations for why having children would give people such a deep overall satisfaction with life, even in the face of daily irritations. The easiest explanation is the scientific one: we are biologically designed to reproduce, so having accomplished that makes us feel that we've satisfied a lifelong need. And maybe that is why.
Or maybe it's that Anastasia is such a perfect, lovely, beautiful, and blessed being that her mere presence in my life is a light that illumines everything it touches, giving me an overriding sense of peace, fulfillment, and joy.
Yeah, that second one is definitely it.
10.28.2008
things I regret
Not long ago I was reflecting on becoming a parent. And I surprised myself, because as I thought about it, I realized that there are very few, if any, things that I regret so far in the way that I've parented Anastasia. Of course I know that nobody can be a perfect mom. But so far, I feel like we've done pretty well.
But in the last few days, I've noticed a few mistakes I think I've made. I'm writing them here so I don't forget them, so I can do even better in the future--and for our next baby, if and when we have one.
So here are a few of the things I'll change in the future:
I wish I'd never started putting Anastasia down to sleep. In the past week I've been reading The Continuum Concept and Our Babies, Ourselves, and they made me realize that babies really are meant to be held and nursed all the time, at least until they're able to walk. Did you know that the !Kung San nurse their babies, on average, every thirteen minutes? Amazing. They carry them all the time in slings on their hips, and the babies just help themselves to milk whenever they want it. And Gusii babies are within five feet of someone more than 60% of the time, waking or sleeping, until they're over a year old. Usually they're in someone's lap or arms, or tied to someone's back. I was carrying Anastasia all the time, awake or asleep, up through three months, and most the time until four or five months. But then I started putting her down once she was asleep. It made it easier for me to do things--but she would cry when she woke up, and she didn't sleep as long. I thought she was getting too heavy to wear for naps, but that's silly. If all those tribal women can do it, well, so can I. So yesterday I put her in the sling to nap instead of swaddling her and putting her in her hammock, and we were both so much happier. She slept much longer, and she woke happy instead of crying. And I realized how much I missed having her close while she naps. So I'm back to wearing her all the time--right this minute, she's nestled in the sling, next to my heart, fast asleep.
I wish I'd started EC when she was born instead of when she was two weeks old. I keep telling myself that it couldn't have made too much of a difference in her signaling, and she's probably just one of those babies who won't signal much until she starts to become more verbal and communicative. But I wish I'd tried earlier. I think it might have made me better at knowing when she needs to go. Next time, I'll catch the meconium.
I wish I'd tried not eating dairy earlier. I don't think I could have done that differently, because I had no idea what to try. But it helped so much, I wish I'd figured it out earlier. I ate a cupcake this weekend to see what would happen (there's dairy in the icing), and Anastasia got sick from it yesterday. I can't believe I allowed her to be miserable like that for so long before I figured out what was bothering her. Next time, if my baby has problems, I'll go on an immediate total elimination diet before I allow it to suffer.
That's really all I can think of, though, so I guess I feel like I'm doing a lot of things right.
But in the last few days, I've noticed a few mistakes I think I've made. I'm writing them here so I don't forget them, so I can do even better in the future--and for our next baby, if and when we have one.
So here are a few of the things I'll change in the future:
I wish I'd never started putting Anastasia down to sleep. In the past week I've been reading The Continuum Concept and Our Babies, Ourselves, and they made me realize that babies really are meant to be held and nursed all the time, at least until they're able to walk. Did you know that the !Kung San nurse their babies, on average, every thirteen minutes? Amazing. They carry them all the time in slings on their hips, and the babies just help themselves to milk whenever they want it. And Gusii babies are within five feet of someone more than 60% of the time, waking or sleeping, until they're over a year old. Usually they're in someone's lap or arms, or tied to someone's back. I was carrying Anastasia all the time, awake or asleep, up through three months, and most the time until four or five months. But then I started putting her down once she was asleep. It made it easier for me to do things--but she would cry when she woke up, and she didn't sleep as long. I thought she was getting too heavy to wear for naps, but that's silly. If all those tribal women can do it, well, so can I. So yesterday I put her in the sling to nap instead of swaddling her and putting her in her hammock, and we were both so much happier. She slept much longer, and she woke happy instead of crying. And I realized how much I missed having her close while she naps. So I'm back to wearing her all the time--right this minute, she's nestled in the sling, next to my heart, fast asleep.
I wish I'd started EC when she was born instead of when she was two weeks old. I keep telling myself that it couldn't have made too much of a difference in her signaling, and she's probably just one of those babies who won't signal much until she starts to become more verbal and communicative. But I wish I'd tried earlier. I think it might have made me better at knowing when she needs to go. Next time, I'll catch the meconium.
I wish I'd tried not eating dairy earlier. I don't think I could have done that differently, because I had no idea what to try. But it helped so much, I wish I'd figured it out earlier. I ate a cupcake this weekend to see what would happen (there's dairy in the icing), and Anastasia got sick from it yesterday. I can't believe I allowed her to be miserable like that for so long before I figured out what was bothering her. Next time, if my baby has problems, I'll go on an immediate total elimination diet before I allow it to suffer.
That's really all I can think of, though, so I guess I feel like I'm doing a lot of things right.
7.14.2008
becoming a mom
Lately Anastasia has begun to distinguish among people. More specifically, she's beginning to notice a difference between the two main categories of humans in her world: "mom" and "not mom."
For a lot of parents, I hear, this stage is frustrating because she's less and less willing to be comforted by anyone who falls into the category of "not mom." Babies who could once be passed off to someone else for a while become more clingy. Moms get more tired as they become more in demand.
That's the reaction I expected to have, anyway. I was tired when Anastasia wanted to be held all the time; I thought it would be even harder when she insisted that I be the one to hold her.
But my expectations were--as is so often the case--completely wrong. The truth is, I love this stage.
I've spent a lot of time in my life with babies and little children. I'm familiar with the pattern: you play with the baby until it gets fussy or cries, and then you pass it off to mom. I never realized how strange it would feel when suddenly I was the one people were passing the fussy baby off to. (How does one know what to do at that point, anyway?) But even stranger was the moment when somebody passed her to me--and she stopped crying. Just like that. She stopped crying because I was holding her.
Which is something I've never experienced before.
But I guess it's only one of the first of the amazing things that happen when you cross the barrier into that magical, unique, one-woman category of "mom."
For a lot of parents, I hear, this stage is frustrating because she's less and less willing to be comforted by anyone who falls into the category of "not mom." Babies who could once be passed off to someone else for a while become more clingy. Moms get more tired as they become more in demand.
That's the reaction I expected to have, anyway. I was tired when Anastasia wanted to be held all the time; I thought it would be even harder when she insisted that I be the one to hold her.
But my expectations were--as is so often the case--completely wrong. The truth is, I love this stage.
I've spent a lot of time in my life with babies and little children. I'm familiar with the pattern: you play with the baby until it gets fussy or cries, and then you pass it off to mom. I never realized how strange it would feel when suddenly I was the one people were passing the fussy baby off to. (How does one know what to do at that point, anyway?) But even stranger was the moment when somebody passed her to me--and she stopped crying. Just like that. She stopped crying because I was holding her.
Which is something I've never experienced before.
But I guess it's only one of the first of the amazing things that happen when you cross the barrier into that magical, unique, one-woman category of "mom."
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