When Baby Has a Cold

Jack has his first cold.

Oh, I could talk about Christmas, all the lovely things our families gave our son and the joy of watching my son grip the wrapping paper and make small tears. But on Boxing Day, it all came to a screeching halt. But I'll go ahead and briefly describe the BC (Before Cold) era.

See, we had rolled into my mother-in-law's Christmas eve before the sun set, had dinner and put Jack to bed. We woke up to a picturesque sight. The ice storm that hit the province days before had the trees glistening in the sunlight. She lives in a small town and the views from any angle are all things charming.

We did Christmas dinner at my aunt's house and spent the night. I had too much wine. Then in the afternoon we headed on out to a family friend's house on the island, and then off to the Dude's aunt and uncle's for dinner. Jack seemed to be holding up well enough, but was clearly starting to get grumpy. So, sensibly, we left. In the morning, we would see the Dude's grandmother in the nursing home and then come back home to Toronto.

That totally didn't happen.

I can't remember when it started, but Jack started waking up crying. I always take the night shift. If it's rough, I'll just sleep in from 6:00 a.m. on and the Dude will handle the morning. But the crying wouldn't stop and he felt warm. Eventually I had to wake up the Dude and we brought our baby into the bed. The Dude got maybe a few hours of sleep. I got none.

While I recuperated from a night that was hell on wheels, the Dude and his mom brought Jack to the walk-in clinic. Verdict? A cold.

Now, I didn't know this, but A. a baby often has several colds in the first year, and B. they can last TEN days. 10. One-zero. Cue misery. I mean, we had obviously gotten away with something all this time never having dealt with a BC before, but it was here now and damn it.

We did not visit grandmother, we did not go home. We stayed at my MIL's and took care of business. This was nice. Food and drink were made available, no housework need be done and we could just focus on taking care of our sick baby and otherwise resting from caring for our sick baby.

And then I had to spend all night alone with him. The Dude needed to drive home and fatigue on the highway serves no one. So, I got the queen bed to myself with the baby and he laid on me all night, effectively keeping me awake until 6:30 a.m.

He'd wake up with a hoarse cry and I'd give him some formula. Then he woke up some more and I had no more supplies in the room, so I left him crying in the travel crib while I mixed him up another bottle. He woke up a lot to sob about his impacted breathing, and pitifully snuffle and wail. I'd give him baby Tylenol every four hours to keep a fever at bay.

In the morning I was relieved of my duties and I slept for 4.5 hours. But then it was go time and I was on the clock. We got home in one piece, and I did the night shift again when Jack wouldn't sleep in his crib, even with it on an incline to promote drainage.

So today, knowing that tomorrow I would have no sleeping in with the Dude back at work for two days, I got cracking. I researched everything and then I set out. I got my nails done first to give myself a break, but then I got serious.

1. Vicks VapoSteam. The Dude bought a humidifier and we have it running now. You add a little VapoSteam and it gives a little extra sumpin' sumpin' to the steam to help clear the sinuses.

2. Hydrasense Easydose. I use the regular full power stuff on myself for allergies and this stuff does not kid around. So we tried it. They come in capsules and we squirt one into each nostril and then wipe up the contents as they make their gross exit. (Okay, this is so gross, but one time it worked so well that a giant booger shot through to the other side of the nose and when I squirt up that side next, the capsule acted like a suction and sucked it right out. Incredible in its ickiness.)

3. Shower steam room. And! For bonus effectiveness, I put some of the VapoSteam in the shower and created this medicinal box of easy breathing. I ran Jack's bath and a whole bunch of stuff came out of his nose by the time the bath was over.

4. Vick VapoRub. Classic. We use just a dab on his chest.

5. Crib is still on an incline for drainage.

And for hydration, I added an ounce of water to the formula because Jack doesn't seem keen on drinking water on its own. And of course Baby Tylenol every four hours.

No screwing around.

So far Jack has woken up once, but went back to sleep. We'll see how well this goes. The Dude got Jack sleeping a lot for naps in the car seat (Again, the recline was the key) and I'm going to use all these tips and tricks to keep things going tomorrow.

I really do think my baby is a trooper, though. Not only is he going through his first cold, but he also cut two more teeth while at my MIL's. He could have been so much worse.

Oh, parenting.

But know what's great? He's been so snuggly and cuddly with me, and he can't do without his stuffed Big Bird. Precious.

Presents for Baby

So, what do you give a baby for Christmas? Do you go ALL OUT because it's your first time having a child of your own for the holiday? Do you skip giving any presents at all because baby doesn't know Christmas from Tuesday? Do you use the day as an excuse to buy your baby a few new age-appropriate things you were going to get him anyway, and simply wrap them up for effect?

If you chose the last one, you're like me. It's tempting to spoil your baby because love. But really, you don't want to get into the hoopla of overspending. It can create a bad cycle.

So, we got him three things. One from Pa, one from Ma and one from Santa. Then there's whatever else grandparents are planning to do and I'd say it's one happy little Christmas. Although, Jack would be just as happy if I handed him my smart phone and turned on the screen. Hell, touching the remote control is a good day for him. But oh well.

So, the things we got him are a puzzle, a block set and a tambourine.

The blocks are simple painted little things:

Cute!

And I don't have photos for the other two, but the tambourine was fun. I took Jack into the toy store and, as I like to do, put various toys in his hands to see what he liked. Oh, he banged that tambourine around and smiled like he'd found some kind of candy Jesus. So, that was a win.

And the puzzle looked neato. Babies don't really do those, but this one is suitable for a one-year-old because the pieces can fit into various places. It's really weird for me to imagine Jack being able to use it. He's eight months old. He can't stack blocks even. He knocks them down and bangs them together. Hell, I remember when that was a big deal.

Actually, he's crawling now, and that's the current big thing. He's romping around the apartment like an elephant. He doesn't go on his knees, he's rump in the air and on all fours. It's adorable. Tiring, but sweet. It's amazing how endlessly fascinated he is with things like lint or handles or crumbs. And how much his discoveries point out how bad I need to clean the house.

I'm wondering if he'll like ripping wrapping paper. I'm not holding out hope he'll actually open presents, but if he at least enjoys the spectacle that is opened presents amongst ribbons and tissue paper, that'll be enough.

Oh man, a child of my own at Christmas. This is it. This is the beginning of the kind of holiday joy I've been waiting for. Squee!

Baby Food

I thought I would update Jack's progress with food. It's going... okay.

I meet with moms and babies every week and all I hear about is how enthusiastic the wee ones are about eating. And I see them eating plenty. And moms are swapping baby food recipes.

My little nugget? Well! I've tried making my own. He doesn't much care for the texture. Seeing as he was a late bloomer with even losing the tongue thrust and he's only go two teeth, I'm okay with him enjoying purees still. But they're from a jar. They're smoother, and he prefers this.

Yesterday I went to a Baby and Me program at an Early Years Centre and there was a baby food presentation. How convenient! I'm facing this right now. What wisdom would be in store for me? Perhaps I could learn some things that would improve matters.

*Snort* No.

I've complained about the breastfeeding lobby before, the militant lactivists who refuse to acknowledge formula as a valid food. Just in case you thought you were done with this sort of pushy nonsense, here comes the make-your-own-food people! The baby-led-weaning sorts are occasionally as annoying.

(I certainly don't think making your own baby food or doing baby-led weaning is inherently annoying. Oh no. Do exactly as you like to feed your baby. Take pleasure, you have my support and I salute you. But jesushchrist, stop telling me I should do the same thing because it's the best way. Just hush.)

So, this lady gives her presentation and proceeds to lie to the moms in the group. Oh yes. Lied. Like, flat out. I didn't call her out because she was so strong in her conviction that she planted a seed of doubt in my mind and I didn't want to risk being wrong in front of many people.

She said commercial baby food contains preservatives. This is a common misperception.

Now, there are many reasons to make your own food: cost effectiveness, using fresh food, taking pleasure in making it, creating your own flavour combinations. All very nice. But one reason is the misinformation that baby food has preservatives in it.

But how do they stay on the shelf without them? They are jarred with a vacuum seal. As someone who's made jam before, this is something I easily understand. You sterilize the jars, pour in the food, cap with a lid, and then they are boiled. The lid sucks in like a vacuum and they are now prepped for longer term storage. You can do this with any number of foods. It's not like eating things fresh, but it is healthy and non-chemical.

You can find this information on the company websites themselves, or from third parties. And all the ingredients listed on the jars.

It was very frustrating to listen to this non-fact-based ideology. I also know you can't feed your baby into a life of good digestive health. Hello! I was breastfed and my mom pureed all my baby food at home. I have irritable bowel syndrome. Shit happens. Or, you know, sometimes it doesn't. But moving on.

She showed us how to use a grinder to make our own food. And I did like that part. It took some mystery out of using a tool like that. But it was textured and lumpy. And I tried to feed it to Jack and he rejected it. And when I say "rejected", I mean he coughed dramatically and spit it out.

I can't tell you how frustrating it is to be told "THIS IS THE ONLY WAY TO DO IT!" only to have it not work for you, while the apparent inferior method is totally working. Awesome.

I do plan on eventually making his food, just to get the textures moving along. But he's only been eating, really, for about a month. And it was a struggle to get here, doing everything I could not to turn meal time into a tense situation or a battle. I want my baby to like food. Starting him on the less flavourful stuff (Commercial food) is not dooming him in any way. It's something I can build on. I need to start somewhere.

Yay, commercial food!

And in any case, in three months he'll be in daycare. Daycare has a way of getting you to adapt. I know because I went to one.

I just need to remind myself he's not going to go to kindergarten with me spoon feeding him purees.

Mom Gets Out

Oh, I am the WORST! Yes, I kinda sorta quit blogging briefly. Why? Oh who knows. Laziness, I guess.

Or maybe I've just been kind of living it up a bit. Oh yes! I have had a slew of fun things going on around here.

I'll detail my awesome week(ish) away.

1. Paint Nite. The premise is this: you go with friends to a pub/restaurant and paint the same thing. There's a master to copy from with an instructor to guide you along the way. Everyone comes with with a different version of the same basic work.

Half done!

We all started off feeling like we were doing a terrible job and wondering what sort of crap we were going to bring home. I usually have a lot of artistic confidence that I'll be able to create something decent, but early on even I started feeling like it was all going to hell. But the beauty of Paint Nite is really in how simple it really is to make a good painting. We all wound up making something pretty nice.

With my friends!

But the best part was that everyone except me thought it would be lame, but were still up for it anyway. Turns out they all had fun and I got to feel good my pals were up for what they thought would be a crummy experience just to hang out! But seriously, though, it is a good time. And you get to bring home some art.

2. One Of A Kind Show. So, I made plans with a friend to go on a Sunday, nice and early in the schedule, and we moseyed. This friend, she's good at the moseying, and you need to be to see as much as you can. I did wind up getting some stuff that day: A stained-glass window and a new clock.

(The clock is for the living room. The Dude brought home a boring-ass IKEA clock that looks like something you'd see in a passport renewal office. So, I brought home a neato clock from the OOAKS. It now hangs in our living room looking like perfection. I had texted him a picture of it from the sales booth and received a very resigned text back. There is no fighting me if I want a cow clock.)

Moo.
I really have a love for cows for some reason.

And of course I bought treats.

But I wound up going the next day too. My in-laws were in town to help my sister-in-law with the OOAKS and my father-in-law helpfully offered to babysit while I enjoyed myself at the show with my step mother-in-law (Seems like a weird title, but it's helpful to differentiate between the two mothers-in-law I have for the sake of clarity). So, why the hell not? Off I went from 9:30 to... 4:00.

4:00! I had no intention of being gone that long, but I got caught up in a whirl of obstacles. I did, however, manage to get my niece a present. I wanted to get her something special, as life has been a little up in the air and I've barely been able to see her at all. So I thought some clothes would be the thing.

I found this adorable jacket that was priced at $40 and when I came back ready to buy it, I saw there was a blouse inside that was marked $40. So I'd read the wrong tag initially. The jacket's real price? Not $40 after all. $250. I did not buy it. I was grateful to be spared the experience of taking an exorbitantly priced children's garment to the cash only to explain I thought it was $210 cheaper so I couldn't actually afford it.

Oh, and I also bought more treats.

3. My birthday party! I turned 31 this week and on Saturday we had my party. My friends all came and made merry. It was my first time playing Cards Against Humanity, which for some reason everyone thought I might be too delicate for. Apparently, I come across as something of a ladylike person, which I have no idea how. But it was a crazy game and we literally played until there were no more cards left.

How to describe this game... well, in one round the topic was Michael Jackson. Everyone picked the card from their stack of 10 to best describe him and the ones I can remember, although they were all wildly appropriate, were: Daddy issues, poor life choices, jerking off into a pool of children's tears (That one won).

Crazy thing is my birthday totally snuck up on me this year. 31 is no big deal. And I keep thinking about Jack's upcoming first birthday. My year has been measured by watching this wee guy grow and change rapidly. School used to be the marker of time. Then there was adjusting to no school. The seasons and birthdays and Christmas/New Years did that. And now there is a little person in my house showing me in a tangible way how fast time is truly passing. It's sort of upsetting. I mean, I love him and get excited about his development, but wow. Somehow I'm a mother to an eight-month-old and one day I'll be a mother to a child, and then a teenager, and then another adult. And I'll be old.

That's not really what I see or think about when I look at him. When I see my baby's face, I feel affection and warmth and pride. His little smile lights up my life. It's when I'm in bed trying to sleep that my eventual hardcore aging and demise start to creep in. That or thoughts of zombies. It's a sad fact about me that for some reason if I think about zombies, I just can't fall asleep.

But when I don't think about zombies, I think about my son, and taking him places and doing things. This will be his first Christmas. He doesn't understand a dang thing; we set up the tree today with him beside us and he gave zero fucks. He cares about the cats a lot more than he cares about our sparkly Christmas tree. But it's still exciting and sweet. It's the beginning of him learning about winter and the holidays.

And now it needs to be the beginning of bed time. For whatever reason, even after having a baby, I can't fall asleep at a decent hour. I suppose this is just the way I'm wired.

Early Years Centre

Today I went to an Early Years centre for babies. And I realized how lucky I am.

The women there had normal first-time mom concerns: social isolation, is the baby warm enough when out, getting enough time to yourself, postpartum depression.

And I don't worry about these things. I manage to get out at least once a month. I overdressed Jack once and have managed not to sweat him senseless since. The Dude is not a dick and sees to the baby weekend mornings and I usually can get out and do stuff once a week by myself. I think I was at risk for depression, but A. I'm not predisposed to mental illness, and B. I had a good support system.

It was nice to take Jack somewhere baby-centric and just let him play and touch stuff on the ground. I can't do that easily here. There's too much everything, with a pointless wall that does nothing but reduce space in the living room. I wish I had more space to play with my baby on the floor. It was a pleasure to be down low with him while he pawed at blocks.

I also realized my baby has nothing close to separation anxiety. For whatever reason. I held a friend's younger baby today while she went to the bathroom and he cried for mom. His clear desire for her company was insistent and loud. This baby is obviously attached to his mom and wasn't too cool with me standing in. This is pretty normal, from what I've seen from other babies.

Jack? He seems fine without me. Oh, he's always glad to see me. He smiles for me more than anyone. But he'll let me go and allow others to hold him. No big deal. Either he's amazing or something is wrong. I don't think anything is wrong. He's just mellow. But still. Everyone comments on it.

And so I google, google, google because when everyone is confused about why your baby is like XYZ, you want to know what other babies are like yours and whatdoesitmean?!

And apparently it means nothing. He's just easygoing, more so than the average baby. And who knows, any day at any time he could just decide he misses me terribly while I'm in the bathroom.

Being around other babies is so wild. Jack was never very small, never floppy, always a little older looking, and he acts different than other babies. Easier, mostly. I love it, but as a mother you wonder about why your child is different, if you need to be concerned. Being a mother means having worries.

And he's having night terrors. But I'm not worried about that. Apparently it's normal. Oh hell, it's pitiful. Out of nowhere, "Waah...wuh-wuh-waaaa!" And still asleep, lost to the world, unaware he's freaking out.

Every month brings something new. I'm always learning and doing new things now. I knew nothing about babies and suddenly I'm brushing up on all things infant. Separation anxieties? Night terrors? Milestones? Knew nada. It's really remarkable what you pick up.

Giving Blood After Pregnancy

I need to get out more with Jack.

Most days we spend in the house because it's easier. Getting ready while he's in a good mood or sleeping, getting him fed, changed and into something seasonably appropriate with a diaper bag packed, lugging a stroller out and setting it up while he's in the play pen and then rushing in to get him, locking all the doors with a baby in hand, hoping I didn't forget anything... ugh. It's really time-consuming to leave the house.

Back when I had no baby and I wanted to leave the house, I'd think, "I'm going to get dressed and leave the house." Then I'd linger around getting dressed, maybe have a snack and at my leisure mosey on out with my purse, which always contained all I'd need. Do-dee-doo-dee-doo.

But as cold weather approacheth and my maternity leave narrows to a close in less than four months (...what?!) I really ought to get out more and make use of the free stuff to do around the city.

And speaking of free things to do around the city, today I went to donate blood. I've done it once before and because I'm O-, I'm a prime donor candidate. Universal donor, baby! Thing is, I got pregnant right after my first donation so when they called me for my next appointment, I had to tell them I was out of commission for awhile. You can't give again until you're six months postpartum.

So, they call me six months after my due date and since I went nearly a month past that, I had to put them off again. But this time, this time, I could go back and perform a civic duty of sorts. I like giving blood. It gives me a good feeling. Plus it takes mucho calories to replace all that life juice, so you get to eat goodies.

Somehow the morning got away from me today. By the time I had to leave, the Dude had taken Jack out with his brother and niece with all our TTC tokens in his pocket, and I hadn't even eaten breakfast yet. I arrived a wee bit late and went through the intake process.

Have you eaten? No. Okay, well, you need to eat first. Okay.

Do you have AIDS? No.

Have you had sex with someone who's had AIDS? No.

Have you paid for sex? No.

Have you had a blood transfusion in Africa? No.

Have you received blood products in the past year? Well, yes. Yes, I have. I was pregnant. My Rh is negative and the Dude's is positive, therefore I needed a shot of immune globulin. (Why? Oh, just read this, I'm no doctor. I got it in my third trimester, which began last December.)

So... I couldn't give blood. There was a lot of back and forth, hemming and hawing, confusion over just when I got this injection. Ultimately, it was not deemed safe for me to donate. I was questioned about why I didn't mention this while making the appointment, but when I suggested the person who called me to set up the appointment (Who knew I'd been pregnant) should be familiar with blood products in pregnancy, I was told they're not trained in that knowledge.

Which confused and irritated me because if the Blood Services Canada people aren't expected to know and ask this simple question ("Did you receive any blood products while pregnant? If so, we'll have to wait 12 months since it happened before we can make another appointment.") then how could I as a civilian be expected to know this? I mean, they know enough that pregnancy means no donation for six months postpartum, and this Rh shot is very common. It's not like leaving your baby behind and going out is wildly easy to arrange all the time either.

I suppose the intake nurse was irritated because they need the blood, one, and, two, O- is in the highest demand. Turning me away must've been frustrating.

Well, gotta wait till the new year now. I'm still very pro giving blood. It's important and valuable public service. But I reallllly think they could fine-tune a few things. Obviously you can't delve into deeply private medical matters over the phone with everyone. But I don't think it's too much of a stretch, when odds are very high that a routine pregnancy treatment has been administered, to ask a newly non-pregnant woman if said treatment occurred. You know, to avoid wasted everyone's time and BCS resources.

At the very least, I got confirmation my iron levels are good and my blood pressure is on the low end of normal. So yay.

Tomorrow we see our newlywed friends for lunch, which should prove much more relaxing.

Breastfeeding Propaganda

Formula Isn't Poison - Breastfeeding Propaganda Is

The above is a link to a blog post that says some very timely things about breastfeeding advocacy. Who hasn't heard breast is best? Everyone knows. People are so confident about this, and some so zealous to the point of turning virulent on the topic of formula, that life has changed for new mothers.

Breastfeeding is pushed. Formula is at first discouraged, but then demonized. You get breastfeeding advice at the hospital, but even if your baby is losing too much weight, formula is not brought up. Even after a C section, you are roomed with your baby, providing all the care, regardless of how little you may have slept in the many hours or even days surrounding your labour and delivery.

I know I was woken repeatedly by nurses to check on my vitals, when in fact I desperately needed rest. My milk wasn't coming in and no one told me I could supplement. All this in the name of being baby friendly. It was not mother friendly at all. And I'm inclined to think what is unfriendly to mothers is bad for babies.

In the blog post, the writer outlines how on the Ottawa breastfeeding website, it lists all the advantages of breastfeeding and all the disadvantages of formula feeding. Thus, you are left with a lopsided view and you can't help but feel like a crappy mother if breastfeeding has not worked out, or if you just don't want to do it.

I know the Toronto story as well. A public health nurse came to my house and asked me questions about how I was feeding my baby. I told her about my two-day induction, C section, delayed milk, hives, uterine infection and resulting low supply. I said I was on medication to increase my milk, was pumping after feeds and with the help of my aunt (Who was washing all the dishes, bottles and pump parts) was SNS feeding as well. But so far, my baby was still getting mostly formula.

Her response was at first a look of understanding, but then she suggested I pump around the clock every 90 minutes. Then she handed me pro-breast/anti-formula pamphlets and flyers. 

I was stunned. Every 90 minutes? I was recovering from surgery! I still needed help getting out of bed. I had just got home from the hospital where I'd been hooked up to an IV for two days, where I'd not even been allowed to bend my arm or else the machine would BEEP BEEP for a nurse to come in and rejig it. What about getting some sleep and recuperating? My aunt needed to sleep at night so she could help me all day and my husband was back at work, so after feeding my baby, or setting an alarm to wake up regardless if he needed to eat yet, I was supposed to pump and then also clean my pump, and then try to sleep in... what? 20-minute increments all night?

And somehow this exhaustion and stress would improve my milk production? And how about that precious bonding breastfeeding is supposed to promote? Increasing my risk for PPD with all that pressure to succeed while not sleeping at all, this will make me love my baby more? Huh. Because at that point I was teetering on the brink of emotional hell. The only thing keeping me afloat was my aunt, who I had another week with before I was on my own and I was hell-bent on using her help to get my ass caught up on sleep so I could be as well as I could be to handle my baby alone all day.

That was my reality. My body went hugely overdue. I gave the natural way every chance to get moving and nothing happened except growing a massive baby that got stuck in an favourable position with no signs of labour. This depleted me entirely. Aside from the swelling, my limbs grew very thin. Surgery and not being able to move wore my body out more. Getting sick and more bed rest while postpartum frazzled me.

And still, STILL! Why wasn't I trying harder to breastfeed? Why wasn't I choosing to not sleep in favour of boosting my supply for an undetermined and indefinite period of time?

The breastfeeding agenda that was pushed on me gave zero shits about my wellbeing, about helping me become more confident as a mother, or about acknowledging my feelings or situation.

The pendulum has swung too damn far in the other direction. Formula used to be de rigueur. Now breastfeeding is the sign of good mothering, anything else be damned.

There is a middle ground here. It starts with understanding not every woman will be successful at breastfeeding for a variety of reasons. Secondly, not every woman will want to do it, again for a variety of reasons. For those women who want to, they will need medical, familial and societal support to feed wherever and whenever they and their baby require, no being shamed into the bathroom. They need to know what to expect and how to problem-solve issues. For those who use formula, they need information how how to do it safely, what to expect, and what sorts of formula is out there and what the differences are, and how to choose a bottle that works.

True informed choice means acknowledging that formula is good for babies. A baby will thrive, grow and become indistinguishable from breastfed babies on formula. There are no antibodies and you have to pay for it, but there are lifestyle benefits which may increase quality of life for mom and thus her baby by proxy, as well as other family members. Every woman is capable of assessing these decisions herself with the input of relevant members of her household.

Most moms I've met are breastfeeders. I see them feed in public with a cover, with no cover, whatever; they're aiming for three months, six months, a year, a wait-and-see timeline; some are combo feeding, out of necessity or preference; some are exclusive pumpers.  I'm supportive of them all. 

The real moms I've met in the city are supportive of me too. If any in my regular group judges me for formula use, I haven't detected it. Things are easygoing and there's a live and let live kind of attitude. This group has grown very popular and everyone looks forward to it. It's inclusive and friendly. Public policy would be wise to take note. Inclusive attitudes towards differing choices mothers make creates a sense of community, which benefits everyone.

Breast is not best. It is marginally better when life allows for it to work out. It's not as catchy, but at least it's honest.