Six Months!

I am amazed by how quickly Emilia develops and changes. For the sake of documenting, I wanted to share some of her current skills.

She has much more refined motor skills than ever before. She grabs, passes, and reaches for things now. It's especially fun to watch her maneuver a food spear (since we've just started trying Baby Led Weaning).

She enjoys bath time and really loved when we took her swimming. She was splashing and grabbing and laughing with delight. 

She loves when we sing and read to her. Sometimes if she is fussing in the car, I will sing "It's You I Like" and she'll calm right down. I've been singing that one to her since she was a week old and we started reading to her around then too. I'm working on a post about our favorite books which will be up soon.

She likes Itsy Bitsy Spider and Paddy Cake. She seems less enamored with peek-a-boo but I don't do that one as often as I should.

She gives baby kisses where she basically leans into you, mouth wide open and you're left with a very slobbery cheek. But you don't care 'cause it is the cutest!

Although when especially hungry, she presumes that every part of my body might "produce" if latched, she has become very adept at tugging on the necklines of my dresses and tops. It's so interesting to see her develop a firmer understanding of where to find her food. Although rooting is a reflex that communicates the same drive, this tugging seems so purposeful. And she's been tugging at my necklines for a while now.

She has so many sounds. Consonant sounds, vowel sounds, growls, squeals, laughs, giggles, little loving grunts, and more. She babbles as though she's really giving us a piece of her mind. This melts my heart and cracks me up.

She knows her name, she knows where to look when I say "puppy," she seems to know daddy and mommy. I try to sign all of these when I say them with the hopes that she will be able to communicate back, soon. Signs I do consistently: milk, more, eat, all done, baby, puppy, and one of the most important ones: ceiling fan! From what I've read, you want to introduce signs that are helpful as well as ones that "matter" to the baby. And ceiling fan has always loomed large in Emilia's hierarchy of favorites.

She is such a roly-poly. Changing her has become challenging because as soon as I take something off, she's flipped over and is scooting away from me. When I watch her on the video monitor, I see her go back and forth and back and forth.

She prefers to sleep on her belly now and no longer gets stuck there which is good.

She loves being supported to stand. When she's standing I recite this little happy rhyme about how tall she is and she smiles and squeals. "Emilia's tall! She's not small. She's so so strong and tall!"

She does full push ups with her arms (if you are familiar with yoga, it's basically the cobra pose) rather than resting on her elbows.

She loves to sit up and can do so by herself if she starts at an angle. She can't get there from laying flat yet. But she's way less wobbly than she was even a week ago.

She kicks like a maniac, while on her back. She loves her feet. She loves to kick around while nursing which can get a little harried because... that's attached to me!!

She's just so fascinating and fun! I love getting to know her personality and feel so lucky to get to witness her develop and grow.

Daughters and Mothers and Grandmothers

I am my parents' first born child. So I see the reflection of my parents (and my mother, especially) in my own adjustment to being a mom. I think about how my mom (and my dad) must have felt about me the way I feel about Emilia. And I tear up because I just had no idea that anyone could love someone so much. I've always been a sensitive soul but the breastfeeding hormones have made me especially prone to happy and sad tears. And I have a lot of happy ones these days.

Even though I've never doubted or questioned either of my parents' love for their children ... I just didn't know it could feel like this. I didn't know we were loved so much. This nagging, primal, constant love. I love my parents and siblings unconditionally and I love my spouse passionately but I love my daughter with a depth and longing and urge that I can't even adequately describe. When I try to make sense of it I wind up sounding so dorky. "I just think she is the coolest." Or worse, I gush and make people uncomfortable cause I inevitably start getting misty. In an effort to make clear how I feel for her in a relatively concise (and non-tear-inducing) manner, I've taken to telling folks that, "I think she hung the moon." Pretty much.

When I envision my mom in my early days of life, I feel more bonded and connected to her. I feel like I am in on her secret. And she knows that I (now) know. It also makes me have a new perspective of grief over the loss of my maternal grandmother (who's birthday was May 1st and who's own mother inspired Emilia's name). Although she died when I was young, I was very close with my gram. And I've always felt empathy and longing whenever my mom chokes up because x, y, or z made her think of her mom. I've imagined for years what my life would have been like if my gram had lived longer. But now, as I see how wonderful it is to be a mom and how much joy my mom derives from being a gram, I feel as though I understand another aspect of our family's shared loss.

It is always awful to lose a parent, at any age. But my mom was pretty close to my age when she lost hers. And in feeling my heart melt over seeing how my immediate family loves my baby, I am reminded of how devastating it must have been to be deprived of that. My gram was my last living grandparent, and my parents were only parents for a few years while she was alive. I think about how hard it must have been not to have them to call or lean on during tough times. I think about how hard it must have been to never again get to see your baby snuggled and loved on by your parent. I think about how lucky I am to have my mom (and mothers-in-law) around to witness and be sources of support during these special and quickly-moving newborn times.

My mom laments the fact that I am not religious and despite my wonderment over Emilia, I remain fairly agnostic. But something about a baby does bring out my suspended disbelief over some (carefully selected) elements of spirituality. I've never felt more connected to the women in my family, both living and passed.

One of the things my mother has always said to both reassure her children and perhaps herself was that no matter what the circumstance, "your mother is always with you." In doing so, she referred both to the metaphor of enduring parental influence as well as a spiritual afterlife. Now that I too am a mother, I want more than ever for both of those meanings to be true. Regardless, I know my gram would/must think that Emilia hung the moon. Happy Mother's Day to you and yours!

On my first (furry) baby...

When I went into labor at home, one of things I remember noticing was the concern and confusion it provoked in Speck the dog. She has such an expressive face and the fur above her eyes contrasts just enough that she seems to have eyebrows. So I often interpret a great deal of emotion from her appearance. She's a very sensitive, loving dog. And at this point we have spent many years together as a family. I have said countless times to Chris (and to Speck) that it was Speck that made us a family. I fell in love with her big personality/small package combo. And I've loved caring for her and negotiating pet parenting responsibilities with Chris. Since we adopted her, she's brought us so much joy. She is the first pet for which I bear significant care-giving responsibility so in many ways, she has also deepened my sense of what it means to love. And it was adorable to see how she became protective of me, especially over the course of my pregnancy.

It could have been the cooling temperatures but I prefer to believe that last fall, Speck sensed that changes were afoot. For her, there were even a few logistical ones, such as the lengths of her walks and the size of my lap once my third trimester belly really popped. Although she is a perceptive dog, she didn't seem to notice the change in my belly. As usual, Speck would request a seat in my lap by gently pawing at my leg and I'd oblige, picking her up. Although I couldn't hold her for as long as before, I still held her and joked with Chris that it was good practice for when I'd be filling my lap with two small creatures soon enough.

Since Emilia's birth I've yet to hold them simultaneously, but I have really loved witnessing their process of mutual familiarization.  Speck stayed at my parents' house while Chris and I were in the hospital and then getting settled with the baby at home. On the day she met Emilia, our house was full of extended family and crowded with props for our newborn photo shoot. Eventually everyone left and we got to be alone as a family for the first time. 

I was still so sore and swollen and overwhelmed by new mom anxieties. I anticipated that Speck would be fine with the baby but I also wanted her to keep some distance from my fragile newborn. Since we slept with Emilia in an in-bed bassinet, Speck could no longer be up with us. And because I went into labor 10 days early (and because I am a procrastinator), I hadn't begun the process of transitioning her out of the bed. For Speck this was all incredibly abrupt and upsetting. That first night, as she paced back and forth from our bedsides, requesting to be lifted onto our/her bed, I sobbed. I felt so guilty.

Now she happily goes to her bed when we retire every evening. And she drops toys at Emilia's feet, expecting fully that her newest pack member will be able to play tug or fetch. It will be so wonderful to see my furry baby playing with my baby baby, once Emilia gets older. I just love them both so much. And I love seeing increasingly how captivated Emilia is by Speck. Watching her walk around and play is one of her favorite things to do right now.

I'm so glad that the integration of my two babies has been successful! I'm leaving for a walk with both of them right now.

On dads and partnerships

My dad is pretty amazing. He is funny, talented, caring, thoughtful, hard-working, loving, and a pretty stellar partner to my mom. The example of their relationship has inspired me over the years, as they divided the responsibilities of running a home, breadwinning, and raising a family with a great deal of equity. And on this Valentine's Day I am happy to say they continue to be very much in love as well as in partnership.

I've loved Chris for a (relatively) long time now. But I think it was sharing the responsibilities of care-giving for Speck the dog that made me want to start a family with him. And watching him with Emilia makes me so happy. The first time I actually saw her, she was in Chris's arms (as mine were still tied down to the surgical table). This hazy, borderline-bittersweet, painkiller-soaked memory (and its significance as a culminating moment in our birth story) is that much less bitter because of him. The day we came home from the hospital he spent no less than a half hour toiling over the first record he would play for her in our living room. In the earliest days of my recovery when I could barely even use the stairs, he (along with our parents who each cycled through, helping us with meals, housecleaning, dog-walking, and baby wrangling) took such good care of both of us. He sang to the baby in Portuguese and English. He'd watch her react to different genres and tempos. And she'd gaze at him through it all. She still does.

He was the lucky recipient of her first laugh. He held her as she explored on her first museum trip. He is still a little better than I am at bouncing/rocking her to sleep (as I often rest on my breastfeeding laurels). And every day when he comes home from work I feel like we all breath a sigh of relief. He is shaping up to be the kind of father I was so lucky to have (and that I know he was lucky enough to have too).

If only there was mandatory family leave for everyone in the US...

As I reflect on my first example of love and the love that I feel for the family I started, I want to wish you and yours a Happy Valentine's Day!

Breastfeeding struggles yield silver linings

The above shows me on my first walk around the neighborhood with baby Emilia. It was one week postpartum which was about 9 weeks ago. If I could go back in time and give my "then" self a hug, I would. Because it was my first birth and I hadn't anticipated folding recovery from major surgery into my postpartum story, things were harder than I imagined. The hormonal shifts were a lot to sort through. I was holding onto the hurt feelings I wrote about in my birth and recovery post. And I was physically very sore and uncomfortable. On top of all of the above, I was adjusting to the responsibilities and pressures of being a new mom... a new mom who wanted desperately to establish a strong breastfeeding relationship with my baby.

Tummy time is also a struggle!

Exclusive breastfeeding was among of the goals I had all along. During pregnancy a few people asked about my feeding intentions. Whenever I would describe them I included the caveat, "if we are able to, I would like," because I know that desire alone doesn't make something possible.

But after I had Emilia, I came to view breastfeeding as my own personal reparation for a birth that didn't go according to plan. In retrospect I see how selfish that might sound on the surface. Babies can and do thrive with formula, breast milk, or a combination of the two. So to be rigid for my own ego was ridiculous. I also don't mean to insinuate judgment toward those for whom such a goal is not possible and/or not desired. I don't believe formula fed babies are less healthy or less bonded with their parents. And I hate that the subject breeds such division among families. I am strongly pro-choice in my approach to the politics of motherhood and reproduction and I've come to view this as another aspect of reproductive rights. And although it was a very emotional time for me, fraught with anxiety and self-doubt, I can thank the period during which I began pumping and had to supplement for the relative autonomy and independence I enjoy already (to be explained below). Thank goodness women have choices in terms of their reproduction and in terms of their mothering!

Still, my desire to breastfeed intensified after I had her. It came to represent a regaining of control after feeling like I lost my sense of agency. I thought that asserting myself after going through something I regarded to be traumatic could heal me. 

The pressure to breastfeed was something I half-invented and half-absorbed from the world around me. And inherently, that pressure is one that puts another human being's life in your care. Reaching my goal was especially difficult because my milk was delayed from surgery. When I was in the hospital I saw their lactation consultant who was supportive but also firm in her belief that we could do this without a nipple shield or medical supplements. To stimulate my supply, she brought me the hospital grade pump to borrow along with a huge kit of pump parts that were mine to keep. I began pumping on a schedule to try to coerce supply. During this time, E lost more weight than was safe so we had to give her formula.* I was devastated because yet again I made myself feel like a failure. I failed to have her vaginally and I failed to make enough milk for her. It added insult to the injury of my surgery and it broke my heart.

Because of length, I've put the rest of the story behind a page break.

(Belated) Week 39: She's here!

I didn't quite make it to week 39. The baby decided to come early. I half expected this since I was the only pregnant woman I knew who wanted to be a few days late (for work reasons). But now that she's here, I couldn't be happier! And to be honest, it is for the best. Although I feel terrible that the semester's end was atypical for my students and I will have my lion's share of grading to plow through, remotely while sleep deprived and nursing, my physical discomforts in late pregnancy grew with every day.

Here is Emilia Irene:

I can already tell she's strong, alert, determined, and incredibly sweet. Chris and I couldn't be more proud or in love.

Week by week: 29

29 weeks

Chris and I attended day two of our condensed Lamaze class at Magee and much like the first week, it was really wonderful. We practiced positions, slow breathing through contractions, and spontaneous pushing. We went on a hospital tour so I feel much more able to visualize my birth setting. And I even felt like we began to make friends with other couples. If there was one more class meeting I know we would have walked out of there with email addresses. Sadly, there isn't. But I did feel a strong bond with the couples in the class and with the instructor. More than anything else, I felt more bonded to Chris. I know from this experience that he is better equipped to be the supportive, confident, and attentive birth partner that he wants to be.

I cannot say enough great things about the instructor that we had for the class. I cried a little when it was time to say goodbye to her because I felt so much gratitude over the knowledge she imparted and the confidence that comes with it. She works as a volunteer doula in the hospital sporadically and I am now hoping the stars align for her to be on the floor during my birth. We'll see.

Since learning I was pregnant, it has been difficult to envision what birth will be like since so many variables are unknowns and so many birth stories differ. But talking to my parents about birth has helped me a lot. Together they share so many memories and it is interesting to see who remembers what with more vivid detail. Last night my mom remembered that my dad's mother was tearing up when they were leaving for the hospital to have me, which was a pretty quick birth, especially for a first time mom! She said that she realized she was in first stage labor around 11pm, they left for the hospital around 2am, and I was born at 8:06 am. Although I've always felt close with my parents, sharing the process of becoming a parent with them and having them retell stories about pregnancy, birth, and early family life has been really incredible. 

Today I blew up my exercise/birth ball and plan to try to get some writing done while sitting on it. I also am setting a goal for Chris and I to practice at least two positions through timed, simulated contractions per day. If we only manage to do it every other day, that is ok too. I aim to do two per practice session so that we can also practice the transition from one position to the next. Most of my favorite practice positions involved the birth ball so I am glad to have it for our preparation.

Outfit details:
Maternal America dress (from Amazon clearance)
Wolford tights (which incidentally, are quite comfortable with a belly!)
Guiseppi Zanotti flats
Amber pendant necklace from St. Lucia (gift from Chris)

Birth Class and Week by week: 28

Week 28

Holy cow I'm in my third trimester! I'm both terrified and excited that things are moving along so fast. I feel good, although my movements are definitely slower out of necessity. They're also occasionally more audible than I intend (as in I make funny guttural sounds if I am getting up from the floor or something... lol). My heartburn has worsened and I seem to have the same tiny bladder issues I had during the first trimester. My stomach fills up faster than before, too.

Yesterday, Chris and I began a condensed Lamaze class at our hospital (Magee Womens Hospital in Pittsburgh) and it was so wonderful. I know a lot of people remark that reading books will offer the same impact of taking a class but that seemed less desirable to me. Although I have been reading about pregnancy and birth avidly, I still wanted to take a class. Reading is often solitary and the experience of taking a class is shared. Plus, as phd candidates, Chris and I are no strangers to schooling. We basically thrive in a classroom environment. So for us, it only made sense to sign up for something. My insurance will cover half of the class cost but even if it didn't, I view it as a good investment in memory-making.

32 years later, my parents still talk about the birth class they took when they were pregnant with their first born (me). They made lasting friendships from it. Sadly, the condensed class sessions that fit our work schedules will be less likely to yield much in the way of bonding with other couples. But I enjoy the metaphoric connection I share with the people in the room, even if we don't get to know each other during our short time together.

Also, the instructor is fantastic and incredibly engaging. I had no problem staying alert the entire day, listening to her explain things, share anecdotes, offer clever metaphors, and demonstrate with course materials. I even found myself tearing up at moments during which she described with enthusiasm and sincerity the remarkable things that occur in the pregnant body. I do have extra feelings right now thanks to all the hormones but in general, I am moved by the notion that my body is doing things that are miraculous, natural, and also in so many ways, entirely mundane. I can't wait for our next class!

I'm curious about the experiences of others in this regard. Did you take a birthing class? Our instructor said around 20% or less of pregnant women take classes. I don't have a lot of friends who have had children so I can't do any informal social polls. But I imagine that Dr. Google in conjunction with youtube videos (and traditional books) have created an environment of learning in which taking birth classes seem less necessary than ever before? Or perhaps the stats have always been low due to the time and money involved in enrolling?

Outfit details:
Ancient Myths maxi skirt from Anthropologie (stoked this still fits for now)
Banana Republic tee
Havaniana flip flops

On bonding and psychic connections

Celebrating my bday at home with Chris... the gifts were all family-friendly and family-themed.

The "pregnancy, week by week" emails include two things consistently: a produce size comparison of the fetal growth and suggestions for how the pregnant person should be bonding with the fetus. Chris's (and my) favorite part about these emails is the former. I find myself generally ambivalent when it comes to the latter.

I understand the purpose of these bonding tips is to try to make more "real" what is otherwise a fairly abstract and surreal existential state. But I am not sure that I'm ready to be singing songs and reading stories to my abdomen. I guess I am skeptical that doing so would produce a more "bonded" maternal identity. It isn't that I feel a disconnect either. I just find the suggestions to be bizarre (and politically unnerving) in their subtextual assumptions about personage.

The increased feelings of fetal movement have made far more real my experience of (an otherwise fairly low symptom) pregnancy than anything else. Those brief encounters of sight and sound in earlier weeks were helpful too.

I have heard women describe pregnancy as a feeling of being haunted (by a presumably friendly spirit). Being haunted wasn't my experience early on, when I was having dizzy spells and couldn't drink coffee. That felt much more like an enduring hangover. But lately there is a feeling of something abstract and omnipresent that stays with me. I find myself unconsciously resting a hand on my abdomen. And I'm discerning with ease my stomach's own grumblings from the "quickening." I may not be reading books or singing songs but I catch myself communicating psychically and occasionally aloud to that looming presence. It feels silly to admit that on some subconscious level my brain thinks that a psychic connection is possible but because the fetus is internal to me, I guess it makes logical (albeit irrational) sense.

Wait, do I actually believe a fetus is capable of reading thoughts the way I have presumed a ghost (or at times in my life when I was feeling spiritual, a higher power) could? This doesn't jive with so many of my actual (rational) beliefs. Pregnancy is so weird.