Dear Alex,

as of yesterday, you are one month old! I can't believe how quickly the time has passed. It feels like you just got here (but it also feels like you've been here forever... strange).

A lot has happened so far. First off, you should know that I got help with the depression, and I feel so much better. I feel like a different person -- like myself again. So, you don't have to worry about that.

You've already done a lot, for a one-month old. You have visited your Aunt Krissi and Uncle Grant's house once, your Aunt Tia and Uncle Bobby's house twice, and your Obaachan's house several times. You've been to Drinking Liberally twice, and you've taken lots of walks around our neighborhood.

You've started smiling at us.

You've flipped over from your belly to your side, just once.

You have met a ton of new friends.

You've had about 200 pictures taken of you.

You have had your first poem read to you. It was "Howl" by Allen Ginsberg, which is highly inappropriate for a child. Lucky for me you don't understand words yet.

You have listened to a lot of music. You seem fond of Tom Petty, Toad the Wet Sprocket, and They Might Be Giants.

You have started wearing your cloth diapers (although you're in disposables right now because we are having to use diaper rash ointment on you).

You got health insurance.

You got your first piece of mail -- your social security card.

You had a toast made in your honor (at Drinking Liberally).

You have adapted well to the formula and seem to be happy and healthy.

Right now, your favorite things to do are riding in the car, swinging in your swing, eating, sleeping, and hanging out on your Daddy's chest. You're not overly fond of tummy time on your activity mat, but you put up with it for a little while.

You'll be starting daycare on March 12th. I hate to leave you, even for a few hours, with someone who doesn't love you unconditionally. I know they'll take good care of you though. We went to visit the place last week, and the teachers all seem very nice. There was only one baby there when we went because it was late in the day, but she seemed quite happy. It will probably be good for you to be around other babies and to have your routine shaken up a bit. I will miss having all day with you though.

You are totally amazing. We love you.

Love,
Mom
1 month, 1 day out of the oven

Dear Alex,

It is with a heavy heart that I write this letter.  All throughout my pregnancy, I intended to exclusively breastfeed you.  I did not consider any other possible options; I just assumed it would have to work out.  But after weeks of struggling to get our act together, we have made the decision to switch to formula feeding.

It breaks my heart to give you anything but breastmilk, but I have tried everything I can think of.  I have seen 4 lactation consultants, and I have tried several supplementation methods.  I have pumped and pumped to try to get my supply up, and I have struggled to get you latched on properly to feed.  It has become an agonizing ordeal for both of us, and you are not gaining any weight.  The most important thing for me is to make sure that you are fed, and for us, that means you're going to have to be fed formula.

I hope you will understand this decision.  It wasn't one I made lightly, and I have cried my eyes out about it.  I just want what is best for you, but that turns out to be a more complicated thing to define than I anticipated.  I want you to have the best food, but I also want you to have a mother who can keep her head on straight... and I want you to have ENOUGH food.

It's funny.  You come into pregnancy with so many lofty ideals, but you find yourself compromising when you look into the eyes of a child who, after trying to feed for an hour, is still crying for more food.  Please understand that your father and I love you very much, and we will always try to do the best things possible for you, even if that means making some tough, unpleasant decisions.

I love you so much.

Love,

Mom

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Dear Alex,

this letter is hard for me to write, but I feel like I should be honest with you about every step of our lives together.

I feel like I may be struggling with some postpartum depression. I know almost every woman gets some baby blues, but it feels like more than that. I've dealt with depression in the past, so I recognize the signs. Actually, because of the problems I've had in the past, I have been pretty hyper-vigilant about PPD.

What you have to understand is that this has NOTHING to do with how much I love you. The moment I saw you for the first time, I was in complete awe of how amazing you were. I simply couldn't believe that your father and I had made something this perfect. But sometimes, after a woman gives birth, the chemicals in her body get a little screwed up, and it's hard for her to be as happy as her heart knows it wants to be. It's very frustrating because she is constantly in the presence of a tiny miracle, and she finds herself overwhelmed, intimidated, and terrified -- more than is probably normal.

When you are older, you may watch a movie called "As Good As It Gets." It's a really good movie, so I hope you do. In it, Jack Nicholson's character has debilitating Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. He's out on a date with Helen Hunt's character, and he says something really hurtful to her. She wants to walk out, and she says the only way she will stay is if he pays her a really good compliment. The following conversation ensues:

Melvin: Okay, now. I got a great compliment for you, and its true.
Carol: I'm so afraid you're about to say something awful.
Melvin: Don't be pessimistic. It's not your style... Okay. Here I go. Clearly a mistake. I've got this...what?...ailment. My doctor, this shrink I used to go to all the time...he says in 50-60% of the cases a pill really helps. Now I hate pills. Very dangerous things, pills. I am using the word hate here with pills. Hate 'em. Anyway I never took them...then that night when you came over and said that you would never...well, you were there, you know what you said. And here's the compliment. That next morning, I took the pills.
Carol: I'm not quite sure how that's a compliment for me.
Melvin: You make me want to be a better man.

That's how you make me feel, little guy. In the past, I tried to find a lot of different ways to deal with my depression and anxiety. I took some herbal supplements, exercised a lot, and just tried to get out of the house and be with friends. Right now, I can't do any of those things, so it's hard. One of my doctors mentioned that PPD is one of the only forms of depression that doesn't generally respond well to talking therapy; it just has to be medicated because it's a physical, chemical, hormonal problem. I hate the idea of taking anti-depressants. I have never wanted to. But if that's what they think will help, I will be HAPPY to take them. I will gleefully take them every day, if that's what I have to do to get myself out of this funk. Because you make me want to be a better person.

You make me want to be a beacon of joy and hope in your life. I don't want to miss a second of happiness right now because you will only be this tiny and helpless and innocent for a very short time. I don't want to let it drag on for months, denying that anything might be wrong, and find myself in a hole too deep to get out of. I can't afford that kind of stubborn selfishness anymore. It's no longer about me. It's about you. And your Dad, who leaves me in awe every day, when I see how he is with you.

Now, from everything I've read, the baby blues are normal, and you should only be concerned if it drags on past a couple of weeks. So I made an appointment with my doctor for your two-week birthday, and if I still feel down, then we will do what we have to do. If there's anything I can teach you from this experience, it is this -- don't be afraid to ask for help when you need it. Don't be afraid to admit that something might be wrong.

I love you so much, and I hope you don't think less of me as a Mom. From what I hear, being a parent is about making sacrifices, so this time, I am sacrificing my unhealthy pride. I will do what I need to do.

Love,
Mom

9 days out of the oven

Dear Alex,

If you ever have children, maybe you will find some of these tips useful.

Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #1: Things never go according to plan, but that's okay.

I didn't plan on wanting an epidural, but I wound up getting one. I thought I still had hours of labor to go, but in reality, the worst part was over. If I had just waited another hour, you would have been here. But even though it wasn't the plan, I don't regret the decision. I had 10 hours to get all the crazy baby pain endorphins, but then I got to enjoy the part where I pushed you out.

I didn't plan on using any disposable diapers at all until you went to daycare, but right now, life is just too hectic to introduce another responsibility (lots of diaper laundry). So we're going to hold off until your cord falls off, you get a little bigger (they are a little big for you right now anyway), and until we get a little better hang of this parenting thing. I am ok with this situation.

I didn't plan on feeling so overwhelmed... but from what I have heard and read, it's totally normal, and most new parents feel this way. So I am trying to enjoy it as much as possible because you won't be this tiny forever. I hear you people grow really quickly, and I will miss these days when you are so sweet and innocent and dependent on us.

Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #2: Everything happens in its own time.

If I had realized how close we were to your birth, I would have skipped the epidural. But, honestly, nobody knows if you're going to be in labor for another hour or another 30 hours. Things happen when they are supposed to. Sure, you can try to make plans for specific events occurring at specific times. You probably will. Just be aware that that voice you hear? It's God laughing at you.

The same could be said for your conception. I honestly believed it would take forever to get pregnant, but you and God had other plans. I thought, "we've got forever to buy a house, go to school, get our act together." It turns out, we didn't. And to be truthful, even if it had taken forever, my plan probably still wouldn't have worked out. Things have a way of getting complicated, baby or no baby. I know I will continue to try to make timelines for my life, but it's oddly liberating to realize that my plans are as tenuous as spiderwebs.

Sometimes, feeling powerless is empowering.


Let me conclude this letter by telling you how absolutely perfect you are. I may be tired and stressed and worried and a little crazy right now, but it's all worth it to have such an awesome little person in our lives. Your father is crazy about you. One day, you'll see a million pictures of him snuggling with you and kissing and holding you. It's amazing. Seeing how Chris is with you makes me love him even more, in a totally different way than before. He is a fantastic father, and he's so supportive of me, as I struggle to get the hang of things. (No matter how involved a father is, it's just different being the mother, especially if you're breastfeeding. There is a whole set of challenges that the father can't help with. Also, since he doesn't get 6 weeks of paid leave, I'm at home by myself a lot of the time now, so ... well, it's just different.)

Things Amanda Has Learned So Far About Being a Parent #3: Celebrate small victories.

Ok, so you're not getting any sleep. But your baby finally latched on correctly to feed!

Ok, so you haven't found time to do any housework in two weeks. But your put on real clothes today!

It's important to focus on the things that went right, from one day to the next.

That's all the advice I have for now, but I'll let you know when I figure out anything else. I love you very much, and I can't wait to see what cool new things you show us about yourself.

Love,
Mom

8 days out of the oven

Dear Alex,

today is your one-week birthday! Congratulations!

I didn't get you a present, so instead, I will tell you about how you were born.

I was almost 2 weeks past your original due date, so the doctors/midwives decided to induce labor on January 23rd. On Friday, January 20, I saw the midwife at my OB-GYN, and she stripped my membranes to try to kick things into gear. That set off a series of pretty mild contractions that lasted all weekend. Your Dad and I ate Indian food on Saturday night, and I had to keep stopping eating so I could concentrate on just enduring the contraction. They felt like really bad cramps.

On Sunday afternoon, we went to the hospital to start induction. The plan was to give me a gel to get my cervix ready on Sunday night, and then they'd start pitocin to induce labor on Monday morning. But the gel started me having really painful contractions. The monitors at the hospital didn't show that they were as painful as they were. They just looked like "mild uterine irritability." So nobody really acknowledged that I was in labor. I was, though. That lasted about 10 hours. When, finally, a nurse came in and asked how I was, I said, "not good." They checked, and I was dilated 7 centimeters. Your Dad went outside to start making calls, and it was time to push. I hadn't planned on getting an epidural, but I wound up doing it because the contractions were so painful, and I didn't realize that the worst was over. Less than an hour after I got the shot, you were born!

Your Dad held my left leg, a nurse held my right leg, and a wonderful midwife named JoAnn Fluent-Peistrup helped you get out of me. Your Daddy cut your umbilical cord. The whole thing is still surreal to me, but I do remember how surprised I was when JoAnn put you on my chest. You popped out, and she put you right up on me and dried you off while you were lying on my skin. I looked up at your Daddy, and he was crying. I thought I would cry, but giving birth gives your body a natural high, and I was just feeling wonderful and amazed. After all that time inside of me, it was hard to believe that you were really going to come out and meet us. It felt like a dream.

We stayed in the hospital for two more nights. You had lots of visitors. You met your Grandma Garrett (Obaachan) and your Grandpa Tiny. Then, you met your Aunt Denise and Uncle Rhett first. They were our first non-family visitors in the hospital. Then you met your Uncle Dave and Aunt Pamm and your Aunt Colette and Uncle Chuck. When we got home, you met your Granny and Grandpa Johnson. Everybody agrees that you are totally perfect and handsome.

Here's what we are learning about you:

You like the sounds of the dryer and running water.
You don't like having your hands wrapped up.
You still get the hiccups a lot.
You like being sung to. (I started you out with "Walk on the Ocean" and "Baby Got Back" because they were the first ones I could think of in the hospital).
You don't enjoy diaper changes or clothes changes.
You seem ok with being read to. Your first story was "I'll love you forever."

I'll be honest -- Your first few days at home have been kind of rough. Parenting is so much harder than I realized. I have my good moments, but I also have a lot of moments of just totally losing it and breaking down in tears. It's hard to know what to do sometimes, but we're working our way through it together. I guess feeding has been the biggest challenge. Everyone tells you how beautiful and natural breastfeeding is (it is), but nobody really tells you quite how HARD it is at first. The first few days were really hard. When your milk isn't in yet, it really feels like you're starving your baby. But we have made a lot of progress. Today, I fed you in a chair I'd never fed you in before, which was a major accomplishment. It's nice not to feel chained to the same two spots in the house. I am actually feeding you right now in front of the computer, and I'm ecstatic that it's working. I still wonder if you're getting enough, but you pee and poop like a champ, so I guess you must be.

A lot of things about the future are scary for me. Will I ever get a full night's sleep? Will I ever be able to go back to school? Will your Dad get to fulfill his dream of having his own restaurant? How will I ever leave you at daycare and go back to work? Will I be able to pump enough milk for you? But right now, I am trying to take things one day at a time. Today, our goal is to make sure you are fed, changed, and loved. So far, so good.
You like to suck on things.

Dear Toot,

you are perfect. Don't let it go to your head.  After I get some sleep, I will tell you the story of the day you were born, but for now, just know that your Daddy and I love you very much, and we could not be happier to be your parents.

Love,

Mom

13 hours, 20 minutes out of the oven

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Dear Toot,

You have gotten a reprieve until Sunday evening/Monday morning.  But if you aren't here by then, we are kicking you out.

I have to tell you the truth - I was pretty freakin' upset to find out that I may need to be induced.  The person who talked to me on Tuesday left me a little confused and a lot frustrated and a whole lot scared.  But today, we got to see the other midwife at the office, and she made me feel a LOT better.  She explained everything and empathized and reassured me, and I am now mostly ok with whatever happens.  (On a side note, she also stripped my membranes today, to see if we can kick things into gear.  Be very, very happy that no one will ever do that to you because it is just awful.)

I guess I got so anxious about the birth process that I forgot what it's all about.  You!  Whatever happens - whatever goes wrong or doesn't go according to plan - we will still get to see you and your fat, squishy little face soon.  I can't wait for that.

That said, though, I just wanted to share a little list with you:

THINGS FOR WHICH YOU ARE GROUNDED WHEN YOU COME OUT

1. Making me vomit in public

2. Almost 10 months of heartburn

3. I sneezed, and it made me pee on myself

4. Excessive tardiness

5. That week of lower back agony

6. Making pickles stop tasting as good

7. 30 years old is either way too young or way too old to pee in the bed

8. Back pimples

9. Constipation

10. Making me cry during such non-tear-worthy TV broadcasts as a baseball game and an episode of "Overhaulin'"

So, no parties and no allowance for several months after you show up.  Sorry, buddy.  You brought this upon yourself. 

If you're curious, here is one more list for you:

THINGS I WILL DO WHEN I AM NOT PREGNANT ANYMORE

1.  Glass of the Moët in the fridge

2. Rare fillet

3. Runny eggs

4. Raw sushi

5. Sleep on my back

6. Guinness

7. Change the cat litter (not excited, but it's probably my turn by now)

8. Start running again (once I get the ok)

9. Ungodly hot bath (again, once I get the ok)

10. Pinch, poke, cuddle, tickle, and generally play with chubby baby

I can't wait to meet you.  It's coming soon!

Love,

Mom

41 weeks, 4 days in the oven

P.S. you are the size of a pumpkin.  I am officially terrified.

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