Height: 25.5 inches (90th percentile)
Weight: 18 lbs 10.2 oz (100th1 percentile)
Head circumference: 16.5 inches (didn't bother telling us the percentile)
Shots: two in her right thigh and one in her left thigh (unhappy baby, got over it after turning red with anger and then nursing to contentment)
Development: seems to be pretty average on grabbing skills, above average on pushing up on her forearms during tummy time (but completely uninterested in rolling over), above average in standing (horrible balance), super alert (too alert?), coos and smiles appropriately, excellent eye contact
Comments from the pediatrician: "She seems old for her age."2 "I love her chubby limbs!"
Love and building immunities,
Jenna and Amelia
1 Hmm. Is there such a thing as the 100th percentile? I was always under the impression it was a mystical number, only to be obtained by sampling the ENTIRE population and to be proudly awarded to the data point with the truly largest value... Well, the pediatrician is under the impression Amelia is IT.↩
2 I think the idea she was trying to convey was that Amelia is so alert and attentive, like an older person in a baby's body. I think, anyway.↩
Monday, December 31, 2012
Sunday, December 30, 2012
2012 in Photographic Review
January
I think we announced to everyone that we were pregnant. We'd found out on Christmas 2011.
I got really sick.
James was in his second year of grad school, working toward his PhD in mathematics.
February
Like, really sick. Hyperemesis gravidarum, sick.
I had to start working very part-time.
March
Still sick. I'm still working part-time, and calling in sick fairly frequently.
We started calling the baby Pterodactyl.
April
I've given up on ever getting over the pregnancy nausea until I give birth.
I had an ultrasound, and we found out Pterodactyl is a girl.
May
Sick. Sick. Sick.
Oh, and we flew over to Pennsylvania for Peter and Katie's wedding.
June
I visited my family in Arizona. We surprised my mother with my visit.
Still sick a lot.
July
Sick. Hardly working.
A few people threw a baby shower for me and Nikky Randall, whose due date was the day after mine.
August
Sick. Quit my job.
My water broke in the middle of night on the 19th, but I did not go into labor.
We went to the hospital, and labor was induced.
And Amelia Rose Dilts was born on the 20th around 6pm.
She weighed exactly 7 pounds and was exactly 20 inches long.
She was jaundiced for a while.
Also very sleepy.
September
But things got better.
Until the jaundice and excessive sleepiness stopped.
Then she become a mightily fussy child, all the time.
My parents came to visit for Amelia's blessing on the 30th.
This was nice.
October
The fussiness continues, although there were less fussy times.
The doctor told us it was colic.
And so when Amelia had a less-fussy phase, we thought the storm was over.
This turned out not to be the case.
But we love her anyway.
November
This was a fairly good month.
Amelia got pretty chubby.
And sometimes she smiled.
We went and visited Danny and Steffanie's family for Thanksgiving.
December
Amelia continued to gain weight and was 18 pounds by the end of December.
We visited the Corbitts in Washington for Christmas.
2013 will be a surprise.
We hope it is the good kind.
Saturday, December 29, 2012
Christmas Traditions
James and I don't really have any Christmas traditions yet. We spent Christmas with my freshman roommate's family; they seemed to have plenty. They went caroling and dropped off homemade jelly. They watch the Muppet Christmas Carol every year. They decorate gingerbread men or houses. They read Christmas stories. They act out the Nativity. I think there are more, but I forgot them.
I'm not sure I want quite so many traditions just out of consideration for my own stress level, but I think I do want some.
So far, here are my ideas:
That's all. Please tell me your Christmas traditions, I am in need of ideas! :)
Love and Christmas,
Jenna and Amelia
1 We bought our first Christmas tree for $12.50 a few days ago. It is a four foot tall fake spruce. It has lights built into it. Woo! We also got some blue shatterproof ornaments and a couple pretty bead garlands for it. Maybe next year we will buy stockings for James and me.↩
2 So here's the thing. I'm a neat freak. My family had four matching stockings... and five people. There was always an odd stocking out. It bugged me so bad. And, well, I have no idea how many children I will have. I could have two. Or twelve. Or any number in between. So the only way I can guarantee that all our stockings will match would be if I bought fourteen all at once... even though I have no idea if I actually will have twelve children. So I figure letting everyone pick their own stocking will mean NONE of the stockings will match, but that's better than only a few matching in my book. I can convince myself it's okay that they don't match if each stocking was picked individually. :)↩
I'm not sure I want quite so many traditions just out of consideration for my own stress level, but I think I do want some.
So far, here are my ideas:
- Something to do with Jesus. We'll think of something, right?
- Buy Christmas decorations for half off after Christmas, then use them the following year. Abstain from buying these before Christmas.1
- Everybody gets to choose their own stocking at the store when they are old enough to reasonably do so. Before this, they get to use one of James' long socks.2
That's all. Please tell me your Christmas traditions, I am in need of ideas! :)
Love and Christmas,
Jenna and Amelia
1 We bought our first Christmas tree for $12.50 a few days ago. It is a four foot tall fake spruce. It has lights built into it. Woo! We also got some blue shatterproof ornaments and a couple pretty bead garlands for it. Maybe next year we will buy stockings for James and me.↩
2 So here's the thing. I'm a neat freak. My family had four matching stockings... and five people. There was always an odd stocking out. It bugged me so bad. And, well, I have no idea how many children I will have. I could have two. Or twelve. Or any number in between. So the only way I can guarantee that all our stockings will match would be if I bought fourteen all at once... even though I have no idea if I actually will have twelve children. So I figure letting everyone pick their own stocking will mean NONE of the stockings will match, but that's better than only a few matching in my book. I can convince myself it's okay that they don't match if each stocking was picked individually. :)↩
Friday, December 28, 2012
Goals
This particular post is inspired by two things: firstly, my friend's hilarious blog post "Resolved:", and secondly, Lesson 7 from Teaching, No Greater Call: "Developing a Personal Plan to Study the Gospel". (I'd decided to read through the teaching manual for my gospel study each day, and I'm finding it surprisingly exactly what I need right now.)
Anyway, on to my post... goals!
I'm not going to write any New Year's Resolutions. Although I could write an entire blog post about this... I feel it will merely be a reiteration of my friend's blog post I linked to above. She is wise.1 So yeah.
Here is my view on goals: you should make them all the time.
For instance, every night while writing in my journal, I write down one or more goals for the next day. It can be anything... like, say, "Get some rest. I'm so pooped." Or, "Go pick up my prescriptions, mail package, buy apples, deliver gift to friend, write and mail thank you note, do ALL the teeny tiny tasks!" Or, "Do something to learn Serbian." Or, "Go get a massage." Or, "Sleep in." Or, "Eat three meals." Or, "Eat a vegetable." Or, "Don't die." See? Little goals, but all things that will make me more awesome. (These are all things I have written in my journal as real goals, by the way.)
I also have more long term goals, of course. I have weekly goals, like "Floss at least once daily for a whole week!"2 Or things like that.
I also have less frequent goals, like "Do visiting teaching every month this year!"
And then there are the continuous goals. So, since my written-down goal from yesterday is "Make a gospel study plan", here goes:
My Super Awesome New and Shiny Gospel Study Plan!
So yeah. This is open to adjustment, of course, but I'm pretty excited. This is the first time in my life that I've ever consistently read my scriptures each night, so there's actually a chance that this will be completely successful!
That's enough about goals, I suppose. Now for updates on the baby!
We have officially become "hippie parents" as the requirements had been laid out in my head. What finally made me decide James and I qualified for this title? ... We've taken up that whole elimination communication thing I mentioned in the footnotes of a few posts. You know, the thing where the baby doesn't wear diapers and you hold the baby over a potty and they go in the potty.
I had commented that I had sensed that Amelia had a secret desire to be naked. As in, no-diaper naked. Her pleased behavior when we oblige her and give her some naked time seems to confirm that she actually did want to go diaperless, and I wasn't making up that idea. She tends to cry when we decide to put the diaper back on. (We don't let her stay diaperless most of the time.)
We bought a little infant potty for her. To my immense surprise, she is quite fond of it, and likes to hang out sitting on it. Yes, she pees and poos in it. Sometimes she'll pee right after getting settled on it. In fact, James just had to go flush a pile o' poo down the toilet. It was smelly, but a lot easier to clean up than the standard poopy diaper. I was surprised to discover that we could be successful with this even if she pees in her diaper 80% of the time.
So there you have it. We are now letting Amelia tell us when she has to pee or poo. It's kind of like how she says she's hungry, only this is the other end of that tube. We figure there is no sense in making the kid pee herself if we know it's going to happen. She doesn't want to, it seems. Why train her to sit in her own waste if we're going to have to get her out of diapers someday anyway? It just makes a lot of sense to us.3
This is how we finally became official hippie parents. We are avid attachment parenting fans. We breastfeed on demand, even if there's lots of demand. Amelia is basically always in-arms. We co-sleep, and she will sleep with us as long as she likes (or possibly sooner depending on when the next baby is). We minimize separations. We respond to her cries always. I plan to exclusively breastfeed her until she grabs food and stuffs it in her mouth, and I will continue to nurse on demand until she weans herself. And now? Now we communicate with our baby, sense when she needs to pee, and then let her pee in the toilet. Yup. Hippies. Really, though, this is all because this seems the best and easiest way to parent in this family.
Amelia is still, however, mightily fussy very, very frequently. I've decided once and for all that she does not have colic and really, never had it. They say colic goes away by four months at the very latest. And well, the fussiness is still here. There are waves of relative contentment, yes, but by and large she is still much more difficult than any other baby I've met.
So. Ixnay on the olickay. My conclusions? Amelia just has a more difficult temperament, and is what Dr. Sears and his wife call a high-need baby. I recently read The Fussy Baby Book. Oh my heck. I think they had a secret camera and spied on us in order to write the book, even though it was 1996 when they wrote it. Their fourth baby, Hayden, was almost identical to Amelia in mannerism. Amelia, like Hayden was, is intense, draining, demanding, often unsatisfied, unpredictable, super sensitive in some ways, not a self-soother, and very separation sensitive. We can't put her down (EVER). She feeds and awakens frequently. If you read that page about high-need babies I linked to, you'd have a fairly broad and accurate idea of what Amelia is like. The only bits that aren't really true are the hyperactivity and the not sleeping much. She sleeps lots, but she doesn't stay asleep for too long and we have to be with her the entire time she sleeps.
Oh my heck, it was so nice to read that someone else had a baby like Amelia. And instead of an endless list of "try this"es, there was an acknowledgement that maybe nothing was "wrong" with her and I didn't have to keep searching for a need that I wasn't fulfilling, because I was already doing everything, and I've been doing it dang well. My intuition has been telling me that Amelia is the picture of physical health, but it was hard to listen to it sometimes.
AND THEN. An acknowledgement that no one really understands what it's like to have a high-need baby until they've had one themselves... so refreshing! It got a little tiring when I'd write a blog post about Amelia's demanding behavior and then I'd receive a barrage of "Have you tried this?". Regarding their high-need baby, the Sears' wrote: "Our job was to accept Hayden's unique personality, appreciate her special traits and channel them into behavior that would work for her, and for the family. It was not to change her for our own convenience. Hayden was not the standard baby, and standard baby advice wouldn't work. Once we regarded her not as a behavior problem to be fixed but a personality to be nurtured, living with her became easier." And you know what? They gave me permission to view Amelia in a more positive light. Yes, she's loud and demanding, but she knows what she needs and is persistent. That's a good thing, in a lot of ways. I don't think I would have learned nearly as much about parenting with an easier baby.
Phew. It feels so good. I don't even mind so much when Amelia is crying. I can stay calmer and respond to her needs better. Yay!
The other book I'm glad to have found recently is The Wonder Weeks by Hetty van de Rijt and Frans Plooij. This has helped me come to terms with Amelia's even-fussier-than-normal phases. The theory is that there are specific ages when all babies get fussy because their brain just did some majorly fast and overwhelming development. Essentially, they wake up and the world seems completely different than it was before they fell asleep. Scary!
...Amelia is currently in one of these evil fussy phases. But, you know, it helps to know the increased fussiness is for a good reason. And that she will get a whole bunch of new skills after this. The bad news is, the researchers think this is a particularly long fussy phase, and will likely last anywhere from one to six weeks, but probably around five weeks. ... Holy trash, I'm not sure I can handle five weeks of this, but... one day at a time.
I should give James a break from baby. He's saying, "Ugh, two hours with baby is AWFUL." And I glare at him and remind him what I have to do when he's on campus for twelve hours. Oh, and now he's yelling that peek-a-boo is a stupid game and there's no reason Amelia should demand MORE peek-a-boo after fifty peek-a-boos. Heh. He's a wimp sometimes, but I love him. :)
Love and ear-splitting shrieks,
Jenna and Amelia
1 Speaking of this friend, I have a message for her: I think I should warn you that, in the hypothetical scenario that I die before James does and you are still single when this happens (I figure this is all highly unlikely), I have ordered James to court you. Yup. I figured if I have to die and I want some lady to help my man finish raising my offspring, I should have a say in who this woman should be. Well, dear lady, it's you. Heeheehee! Hope I haven't disturbed you too much. :)↩
2 I intensely dislike flossing. I think, perhaps, this is related to the fact that my teeth are a little too close together, so I struggle to slip that thin piece of floss between each tooth... and then, once I get past the tight spot, my floss comes down into the gums super swiftly and painfully. Grrr. If I had an extra $4000, I'd invest in some orthodontic work. I also have a major overbite which is a bit annoying. Sometimes my bottom front teeth hurt the roof of my mouth.↩
3 I saw the book Diaper-Free Baby by Christine Gross-Loh in the library. I checked it out because, honestly, both James and I were intrigued and surprised and really, really curious. After reading half of the book, James was convinced and decided to try it out right then. He kept checking every thirty seconds to see if she had peed. It was kind of cute.↩
Anyway, on to my post... goals!
I'm not going to write any New Year's Resolutions. Although I could write an entire blog post about this... I feel it will merely be a reiteration of my friend's blog post I linked to above. She is wise.1 So yeah.
Here is my view on goals: you should make them all the time.
For instance, every night while writing in my journal, I write down one or more goals for the next day. It can be anything... like, say, "Get some rest. I'm so pooped." Or, "Go pick up my prescriptions, mail package, buy apples, deliver gift to friend, write and mail thank you note, do ALL the teeny tiny tasks!" Or, "Do something to learn Serbian." Or, "Go get a massage." Or, "Sleep in." Or, "Eat three meals." Or, "Eat a vegetable." Or, "Don't die." See? Little goals, but all things that will make me more awesome. (These are all things I have written in my journal as real goals, by the way.)
I also have more long term goals, of course. I have weekly goals, like "Floss at least once daily for a whole week!"2 Or things like that.
I also have less frequent goals, like "Do visiting teaching every month this year!"
And then there are the continuous goals. So, since my written-down goal from yesterday is "Make a gospel study plan", here goes:
My Super Awesome New and Shiny Gospel Study Plan!
- Begin and end each study session with a prayer
- Finish studying Teaching, No Greater Call as default study material, at least one lesson per day
- Next, study the Old Testament as default study material, at least one chapter per day
- When the Conference Ensign comes out, make this the default study material, at least one talk per day until all talks have been read
- On the appropriate Friday and Saturday nights, read the lesson material (Teachings of Presidents of the Church: Lorenzo Snow) for the following Sunday's Relief Society lesson, at least half a chapter per day
- On Sundays, replace my normal reading material with gospel reading material (such as that month's Ensign or Jesus the Christ)
So yeah. This is open to adjustment, of course, but I'm pretty excited. This is the first time in my life that I've ever consistently read my scriptures each night, so there's actually a chance that this will be completely successful!
That's enough about goals, I suppose. Now for updates on the baby!
We have officially become "hippie parents" as the requirements had been laid out in my head. What finally made me decide James and I qualified for this title? ... We've taken up that whole elimination communication thing I mentioned in the footnotes of a few posts. You know, the thing where the baby doesn't wear diapers and you hold the baby over a potty and they go in the potty.
I had commented that I had sensed that Amelia had a secret desire to be naked. As in, no-diaper naked. Her pleased behavior when we oblige her and give her some naked time seems to confirm that she actually did want to go diaperless, and I wasn't making up that idea. She tends to cry when we decide to put the diaper back on. (We don't let her stay diaperless most of the time.)
We bought a little infant potty for her. To my immense surprise, she is quite fond of it, and likes to hang out sitting on it. Yes, she pees and poos in it. Sometimes she'll pee right after getting settled on it. In fact, James just had to go flush a pile o' poo down the toilet. It was smelly, but a lot easier to clean up than the standard poopy diaper. I was surprised to discover that we could be successful with this even if she pees in her diaper 80% of the time.
So there you have it. We are now letting Amelia tell us when she has to pee or poo. It's kind of like how she says she's hungry, only this is the other end of that tube. We figure there is no sense in making the kid pee herself if we know it's going to happen. She doesn't want to, it seems. Why train her to sit in her own waste if we're going to have to get her out of diapers someday anyway? It just makes a lot of sense to us.3
This is how we finally became official hippie parents. We are avid attachment parenting fans. We breastfeed on demand, even if there's lots of demand. Amelia is basically always in-arms. We co-sleep, and she will sleep with us as long as she likes (or possibly sooner depending on when the next baby is). We minimize separations. We respond to her cries always. I plan to exclusively breastfeed her until she grabs food and stuffs it in her mouth, and I will continue to nurse on demand until she weans herself. And now? Now we communicate with our baby, sense when she needs to pee, and then let her pee in the toilet. Yup. Hippies. Really, though, this is all because this seems the best and easiest way to parent in this family.
Amelia is still, however, mightily fussy very, very frequently. I've decided once and for all that she does not have colic and really, never had it. They say colic goes away by four months at the very latest. And well, the fussiness is still here. There are waves of relative contentment, yes, but by and large she is still much more difficult than any other baby I've met.
So. Ixnay on the olickay. My conclusions? Amelia just has a more difficult temperament, and is what Dr. Sears and his wife call a high-need baby. I recently read The Fussy Baby Book. Oh my heck. I think they had a secret camera and spied on us in order to write the book, even though it was 1996 when they wrote it. Their fourth baby, Hayden, was almost identical to Amelia in mannerism. Amelia, like Hayden was, is intense, draining, demanding, often unsatisfied, unpredictable, super sensitive in some ways, not a self-soother, and very separation sensitive. We can't put her down (EVER). She feeds and awakens frequently. If you read that page about high-need babies I linked to, you'd have a fairly broad and accurate idea of what Amelia is like. The only bits that aren't really true are the hyperactivity and the not sleeping much. She sleeps lots, but she doesn't stay asleep for too long and we have to be with her the entire time she sleeps.
Oh my heck, it was so nice to read that someone else had a baby like Amelia. And instead of an endless list of "try this"es, there was an acknowledgement that maybe nothing was "wrong" with her and I didn't have to keep searching for a need that I wasn't fulfilling, because I was already doing everything, and I've been doing it dang well. My intuition has been telling me that Amelia is the picture of physical health, but it was hard to listen to it sometimes.
AND THEN. An acknowledgement that no one really understands what it's like to have a high-need baby until they've had one themselves... so refreshing! It got a little tiring when I'd write a blog post about Amelia's demanding behavior and then I'd receive a barrage of "Have you tried this?". Regarding their high-need baby, the Sears' wrote: "Our job was to accept Hayden's unique personality, appreciate her special traits and channel them into behavior that would work for her, and for the family. It was not to change her for our own convenience. Hayden was not the standard baby, and standard baby advice wouldn't work. Once we regarded her not as a behavior problem to be fixed but a personality to be nurtured, living with her became easier." And you know what? They gave me permission to view Amelia in a more positive light. Yes, she's loud and demanding, but she knows what she needs and is persistent. That's a good thing, in a lot of ways. I don't think I would have learned nearly as much about parenting with an easier baby.
Phew. It feels so good. I don't even mind so much when Amelia is crying. I can stay calmer and respond to her needs better. Yay!
The other book I'm glad to have found recently is The Wonder Weeks by Hetty van de Rijt and Frans Plooij. This has helped me come to terms with Amelia's even-fussier-than-normal phases. The theory is that there are specific ages when all babies get fussy because their brain just did some majorly fast and overwhelming development. Essentially, they wake up and the world seems completely different than it was before they fell asleep. Scary!
...Amelia is currently in one of these evil fussy phases. But, you know, it helps to know the increased fussiness is for a good reason. And that she will get a whole bunch of new skills after this. The bad news is, the researchers think this is a particularly long fussy phase, and will likely last anywhere from one to six weeks, but probably around five weeks. ... Holy trash, I'm not sure I can handle five weeks of this, but... one day at a time.
I should give James a break from baby. He's saying, "Ugh, two hours with baby is AWFUL." And I glare at him and remind him what I have to do when he's on campus for twelve hours. Oh, and now he's yelling that peek-a-boo is a stupid game and there's no reason Amelia should demand MORE peek-a-boo after fifty peek-a-boos. Heh. He's a wimp sometimes, but I love him. :)
Love and ear-splitting shrieks,
Jenna and Amelia
1 Speaking of this friend, I have a message for her: I think I should warn you that, in the hypothetical scenario that I die before James does and you are still single when this happens (I figure this is all highly unlikely), I have ordered James to court you. Yup. I figured if I have to die and I want some lady to help my man finish raising my offspring, I should have a say in who this woman should be. Well, dear lady, it's you. Heeheehee! Hope I haven't disturbed you too much. :)↩
2 I intensely dislike flossing. I think, perhaps, this is related to the fact that my teeth are a little too close together, so I struggle to slip that thin piece of floss between each tooth... and then, once I get past the tight spot, my floss comes down into the gums super swiftly and painfully. Grrr. If I had an extra $4000, I'd invest in some orthodontic work. I also have a major overbite which is a bit annoying. Sometimes my bottom front teeth hurt the roof of my mouth.↩
3 I saw the book Diaper-Free Baby by Christine Gross-Loh in the library. I checked it out because, honestly, both James and I were intrigued and surprised and really, really curious. After reading half of the book, James was convinced and decided to try it out right then. He kept checking every thirty seconds to see if she had peed. It was kind of cute.↩
Thursday, December 13, 2012
A Day in the Life at Four Months Old
Note: I was pondering last night, and I began to wonder... How many of the itty bitty details of my daily life with Amelia will I actually remember in a year? In two years? Ten years? Fifty years? I decided not to risk it and record all these little details. I've decided to write an "A Day in the Life" post every couple months or so. These are mainly for me, then... but, as always, I am willing to share with die-hard members of the Official Amelia Dilts Fan Club.
In the morning, we wake up. It might be me, or maybe it's Amelia, who wakes up first, but we do both eventually wake up. When Amelia wakes up, she's in her very bestest mood: smiles everywhere! It's cute. I've also noticed that if she's the first to wake up, she doesn't really rush me. She'll chew on her fists and maybe look at the light streaming in from between the blinds, maybe make a few soft noises. And she'll certainly wiggle some. When I finally wake up, I say, "Good morning, Amelia!" and she turns to look at me and cracks open a large gummy smile as if to say, "Good morning, mom! I've been waiting for you to wake up!"
I play with her a bit before we we get up off of our mattress on the floor, usually pretending to eat her tummy with a loud OM NOM NOM NOM! Amelia sometimes laughs when I do this, but usually she just opens her mouth wide into a silly gummy grin.
I scoop her up and stumble off into the hallway where I made a makeshift changing table out of one of our cupboards. I have this sneaky suspicion that Amelia enjoys being naked, and would go diaperless1 if she was in charge. To keep her occupied during the diaper change, I sing to her. I think her favorite "diaper change song" is "Build Me Up Buttercup".2 I put her into a daytime outfit, which if things go according to plan, will last all day.3
Then, if Becca's around, I hand Amelia over to her so I can pee and eat breakfast (my top two breakfast foods are chocolate Cheerios and English muffin sandwiches). I don't usually get to do much else in this time before Amelia makes it clear it's Mommy Time, but if I do get more time, I check my email and Facebook.
By this time Amelia is a little annoyed that I was purposely ignoring her while I attempt to scarf down the remaining Cheerios in my bowl (I swear, when I poured in the milk she was super happy). Then I get comfy on the couch with Amelia on my lap. Even before I get out the boob, she knows it's coming and shuts up promptly, eagerly head-bobbing into my shirt, possibly complaining if I have difficulty getting the shirt out of the way fast enough.
I know she's done when she does one of two things... she'll either start leisurely playing with the nipple with her gums, which can hurt... or she'll do my favorite thing. With the boob still in her mouth, she'll peek up at me and smile real wide, and coo at me. "Hoo, hoo hooooo!" she'll say. And my heart will melt.
Then it's play time. We have lots of games we play. First I might put her on her back and OM NOM NOM her belly a little more. Maybe we'll play Patty-Cake, or This Little Piggy. Maybe we'll play the game where we make funny faces at each other for a whole fifteen minutes. Or similarly, we might make funny noises at each other for a whole fifteen minutes. Amelia has recently discovered that gurgling spit in a variety of ways can make a myriad sounds. She's also shrieking a lot. If I'm not paying close enough attention I might mistake this for unhappiness, but I'm realizing that often enough she is just experimenting to see what sorts of sounds she can make.
In any case, after a little play time, she'll eventually get unhappy. I don't know if it's because she's getting overstimulated, or if she's just fed up with her inability to do... whatever it is she was trying to do. I think Amelia does not find babyhood very becoming for someone such as herself. Really. I get the feeling she thinks she should be able to do everything perfectly.
I nurse her back to calmness. This takes anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes. Then it's playtime again.
This time I might pull out a toy. It seems that Amelia has only recently become interested in toys. For a while she wouldn't even look at them... she much preferred to look at people. Just during this last week, she started reaching out for these newly-discovered toys, and she is starting to practice grasping skills.4 We also spend some time "reading" books. She has four books. One is all black and white. Two of them are soft books, and one of them is interactive and squeaks and moves and stuff. The newest book is all about red. It even has a big hole in the pages that she likes to put her hand through.
She will eventually get upset again, so I'll nurse her once more. Perhaps this time her eyes will roll back in her head and her eyelids will flutter madly. This means it's nap time. She'll nurse to sleep and nap in my lap (still attached to my chest) for maybe half an hour.
When she wakes up, maybe we'll practice standing. She is particularly fond of standing (with our help, of course). She reminds me a little of Godzilla when we play this game. She is less fond of practicing sitting up on her own, but she is warming up to the idea. James says that on Monday she sat up unsupported for an entire three seconds! Oooo!
If I'm brave, I'll do tummy time with her. She doesn't really like it very much, but if I catch her in her very, very best mood, she'll put up with it for a few minutes. Maybe. A friend just let us borrow a colorful flashy light to help make tummy time less torturous. Amelia does seem to like this toy. We can get her to do a weak mini push up for a few seconds using the flashy light method. And then she'll invariably become completely distraught and need more comforting via nursing.
Then more play time! And so on and so forth. In the afternoon, Amelia gets really cranky. She makes tired eyes, but isn't really falling asleep at the breast. She rubs her face, tries to bury her head into my chest. It's time for a real nap. Upstairs to bed we go! I lie down and let Amelia lie alongside me, nursing until she falls asleep. I'll usually fall asleep too, and if not, it is at least restful to lie down. It is not uncommon for her to sleep for three or four hours, all without letting go of the nipple.
After waking up, we do a little more of the alternating playtime and nursing (with possible nap) until James gets home. Then I eagerly pass the baby to him; it seems by now Amelia tires of my antics and is ready for something different, and James is certainly different. James is more vigorous when he plays with her... if he plays with her. Sometimes it takes him a while to wind down after a long day of using his brain. During this wind-down process, he will probably be found at the computer, bouncing a possibly completely unconscious puddle of baby.
I try to read my scriptures and such while James is on baby duty. We'll do our partner scripture study, and then when I'm all ready for bed, I settle onto our gloriously comfy mattress. James puts the baby next to me, and she nurses. There's a good chance she'll nurse herself to sleep. If not, James will usually bounce her on the ball until she falls asleep, and then redeposits her next to me.
Nighttime is calm and peaceful. Amelia is so fond of sucking that she sometimes stays attached to me the entire night. It is good that I have found a way to be comfortable lying like that all night, so I sleep through this. Sometimes, though, she falls off the nipple when she gets into a deep sleep and stays deeply asleep for many hours.
Amelia does kind of wake up in the night5, but she almost never wakes up fully. If she's still attached to me, I might wake up only because she's noisily gulping down milk. It can sound like she's happily drowning. James is less fond of this sound, because he prefers to not wake up at all in the night. Eventually, Amelia is done eating and falls back asleep, still sucking at the "empty" boob, just for the pleasure of sucking. If she lost the nipple in the night, no problem. She makes a halfhearted whimper or two, I'm instantly awake, I guide the nipple to her, she gulps happily, and I probably fall back asleep before she's even done.
We sleep soundly.
Love and lots and lots of milk (best stuff in the world, I hear),
Jenna and Amelia
1 I was surprised to learn that this is actually possible, provided you are with your baby 24/7. Before diapers were widely available (can you imagine how costly cloth diapers would be for those in poverty?), it seems that parents relied on what is now called "elimination communication" to know when their babies need to go. And then they just pulled off the baby's pants, held the baby over a good spot and let them go. They might even cue the baby by making a sound (like "psssss!" or "pee-pee!") to tell the baby it's time to relieve themselves. It still sounds to me like psychic superpowers, but apparently it's possible. It is, however, really hard to do in today's society because usually modern-day mothers unavoidably have to be gone at least some of the time. I'm too scared to try it, despite Amelia's apparent nakedness preferences.↩
2 That may sound odd, but I could swear she much prefers that I sing that song at diaper change time. She gives funny looks if I sing it when she's not naked.↩
3 Am I the only mother on planet Earth who thinks playing dress-up with baby is dumb? I think I must be. I can't count the times I've heard someone say, "Aw, such a cute outfit. Isn't it your favorite thing to dress her up in lots of cute outfits?" ...↩
4 Amelia is a test subject in a motor skills study. The researchers are particularly interesting in reaching and grasping skills. So far Amelia has not obliged the researchers even once in demonstrating her reaching abilities. One of the Relief Nursery workers who comes over once a week was telling me that before a baby actually succeeds in reaching for and grasping an object, you can see them trying to do it, but failing. Apparently they stare at the object intently then flail for it. I was watching for this, but I never saw it. Instead, I just realized that her hands often magically end up on the toy when I dangle it in front of her. Apparently she didn't want to bother with reaching until she felt she was good enough at it. Ha.↩
5 Am I the only mother on planet Earth who isn't eagerly anticipating the day when Amelia finally goes through an entire night without waking up once? One of the most common questions I get from people is: "Is she sleeping through the night yet?" I usually don't feel like launching into a long discussion about how she isn't, but I don't care, and I'm not even going to bother trying to discourage it because that will make her miserable and disturb my sleep way more than letting her sleep attached to me all night, and how else can I make this an epic run-on sentence? So, instead of having a long conversation, I just say, "Yes. From the very beginning, she's slept through most nights entirely." Even though, technically, that's not true. I imagine that if I had ever attempted to make Amelia sleep by herself in a bassinet or crib, James and I both would have gotten only two hours of sleep every night.↩
In the morning, we wake up. It might be me, or maybe it's Amelia, who wakes up first, but we do both eventually wake up. When Amelia wakes up, she's in her very bestest mood: smiles everywhere! It's cute. I've also noticed that if she's the first to wake up, she doesn't really rush me. She'll chew on her fists and maybe look at the light streaming in from between the blinds, maybe make a few soft noises. And she'll certainly wiggle some. When I finally wake up, I say, "Good morning, Amelia!" and she turns to look at me and cracks open a large gummy smile as if to say, "Good morning, mom! I've been waiting for you to wake up!"
I play with her a bit before we we get up off of our mattress on the floor, usually pretending to eat her tummy with a loud OM NOM NOM NOM! Amelia sometimes laughs when I do this, but usually she just opens her mouth wide into a silly gummy grin.
I scoop her up and stumble off into the hallway where I made a makeshift changing table out of one of our cupboards. I have this sneaky suspicion that Amelia enjoys being naked, and would go diaperless1 if she was in charge. To keep her occupied during the diaper change, I sing to her. I think her favorite "diaper change song" is "Build Me Up Buttercup".2 I put her into a daytime outfit, which if things go according to plan, will last all day.3
Then, if Becca's around, I hand Amelia over to her so I can pee and eat breakfast (my top two breakfast foods are chocolate Cheerios and English muffin sandwiches). I don't usually get to do much else in this time before Amelia makes it clear it's Mommy Time, but if I do get more time, I check my email and Facebook.
By this time Amelia is a little annoyed that I was purposely ignoring her while I attempt to scarf down the remaining Cheerios in my bowl (I swear, when I poured in the milk she was super happy). Then I get comfy on the couch with Amelia on my lap. Even before I get out the boob, she knows it's coming and shuts up promptly, eagerly head-bobbing into my shirt, possibly complaining if I have difficulty getting the shirt out of the way fast enough.
I know she's done when she does one of two things... she'll either start leisurely playing with the nipple with her gums, which can hurt... or she'll do my favorite thing. With the boob still in her mouth, she'll peek up at me and smile real wide, and coo at me. "Hoo, hoo hooooo!" she'll say. And my heart will melt.
Then it's play time. We have lots of games we play. First I might put her on her back and OM NOM NOM her belly a little more. Maybe we'll play Patty-Cake, or This Little Piggy. Maybe we'll play the game where we make funny faces at each other for a whole fifteen minutes. Or similarly, we might make funny noises at each other for a whole fifteen minutes. Amelia has recently discovered that gurgling spit in a variety of ways can make a myriad sounds. She's also shrieking a lot. If I'm not paying close enough attention I might mistake this for unhappiness, but I'm realizing that often enough she is just experimenting to see what sorts of sounds she can make.
In any case, after a little play time, she'll eventually get unhappy. I don't know if it's because she's getting overstimulated, or if she's just fed up with her inability to do... whatever it is she was trying to do. I think Amelia does not find babyhood very becoming for someone such as herself. Really. I get the feeling she thinks she should be able to do everything perfectly.
I nurse her back to calmness. This takes anywhere from thirty seconds to five minutes. Then it's playtime again.
This time I might pull out a toy. It seems that Amelia has only recently become interested in toys. For a while she wouldn't even look at them... she much preferred to look at people. Just during this last week, she started reaching out for these newly-discovered toys, and she is starting to practice grasping skills.4 We also spend some time "reading" books. She has four books. One is all black and white. Two of them are soft books, and one of them is interactive and squeaks and moves and stuff. The newest book is all about red. It even has a big hole in the pages that she likes to put her hand through.
She will eventually get upset again, so I'll nurse her once more. Perhaps this time her eyes will roll back in her head and her eyelids will flutter madly. This means it's nap time. She'll nurse to sleep and nap in my lap (still attached to my chest) for maybe half an hour.
When she wakes up, maybe we'll practice standing. She is particularly fond of standing (with our help, of course). She reminds me a little of Godzilla when we play this game. She is less fond of practicing sitting up on her own, but she is warming up to the idea. James says that on Monday she sat up unsupported for an entire three seconds! Oooo!
If I'm brave, I'll do tummy time with her. She doesn't really like it very much, but if I catch her in her very, very best mood, she'll put up with it for a few minutes. Maybe. A friend just let us borrow a colorful flashy light to help make tummy time less torturous. Amelia does seem to like this toy. We can get her to do a weak mini push up for a few seconds using the flashy light method. And then she'll invariably become completely distraught and need more comforting via nursing.
Then more play time! And so on and so forth. In the afternoon, Amelia gets really cranky. She makes tired eyes, but isn't really falling asleep at the breast. She rubs her face, tries to bury her head into my chest. It's time for a real nap. Upstairs to bed we go! I lie down and let Amelia lie alongside me, nursing until she falls asleep. I'll usually fall asleep too, and if not, it is at least restful to lie down. It is not uncommon for her to sleep for three or four hours, all without letting go of the nipple.
After waking up, we do a little more of the alternating playtime and nursing (with possible nap) until James gets home. Then I eagerly pass the baby to him; it seems by now Amelia tires of my antics and is ready for something different, and James is certainly different. James is more vigorous when he plays with her... if he plays with her. Sometimes it takes him a while to wind down after a long day of using his brain. During this wind-down process, he will probably be found at the computer, bouncing a possibly completely unconscious puddle of baby.
I try to read my scriptures and such while James is on baby duty. We'll do our partner scripture study, and then when I'm all ready for bed, I settle onto our gloriously comfy mattress. James puts the baby next to me, and she nurses. There's a good chance she'll nurse herself to sleep. If not, James will usually bounce her on the ball until she falls asleep, and then redeposits her next to me.
Nighttime is calm and peaceful. Amelia is so fond of sucking that she sometimes stays attached to me the entire night. It is good that I have found a way to be comfortable lying like that all night, so I sleep through this. Sometimes, though, she falls off the nipple when she gets into a deep sleep and stays deeply asleep for many hours.
Amelia does kind of wake up in the night5, but she almost never wakes up fully. If she's still attached to me, I might wake up only because she's noisily gulping down milk. It can sound like she's happily drowning. James is less fond of this sound, because he prefers to not wake up at all in the night. Eventually, Amelia is done eating and falls back asleep, still sucking at the "empty" boob, just for the pleasure of sucking. If she lost the nipple in the night, no problem. She makes a halfhearted whimper or two, I'm instantly awake, I guide the nipple to her, she gulps happily, and I probably fall back asleep before she's even done.
We sleep soundly.
Love and lots and lots of milk (best stuff in the world, I hear),
Jenna and Amelia
1 I was surprised to learn that this is actually possible, provided you are with your baby 24/7. Before diapers were widely available (can you imagine how costly cloth diapers would be for those in poverty?), it seems that parents relied on what is now called "elimination communication" to know when their babies need to go. And then they just pulled off the baby's pants, held the baby over a good spot and let them go. They might even cue the baby by making a sound (like "psssss!" or "pee-pee!") to tell the baby it's time to relieve themselves. It still sounds to me like psychic superpowers, but apparently it's possible. It is, however, really hard to do in today's society because usually modern-day mothers unavoidably have to be gone at least some of the time. I'm too scared to try it, despite Amelia's apparent nakedness preferences.↩
2 That may sound odd, but I could swear she much prefers that I sing that song at diaper change time. She gives funny looks if I sing it when she's not naked.↩
3 Am I the only mother on planet Earth who thinks playing dress-up with baby is dumb? I think I must be. I can't count the times I've heard someone say, "Aw, such a cute outfit. Isn't it your favorite thing to dress her up in lots of cute outfits?" ...↩
4 Amelia is a test subject in a motor skills study. The researchers are particularly interesting in reaching and grasping skills. So far Amelia has not obliged the researchers even once in demonstrating her reaching abilities. One of the Relief Nursery workers who comes over once a week was telling me that before a baby actually succeeds in reaching for and grasping an object, you can see them trying to do it, but failing. Apparently they stare at the object intently then flail for it. I was watching for this, but I never saw it. Instead, I just realized that her hands often magically end up on the toy when I dangle it in front of her. Apparently she didn't want to bother with reaching until she felt she was good enough at it. Ha.↩
5 Am I the only mother on planet Earth who isn't eagerly anticipating the day when Amelia finally goes through an entire night without waking up once? One of the most common questions I get from people is: "Is she sleeping through the night yet?" I usually don't feel like launching into a long discussion about how she isn't, but I don't care, and I'm not even going to bother trying to discourage it because that will make her miserable and disturb my sleep way more than letting her sleep attached to me all night, and how else can I make this an epic run-on sentence? So, instead of having a long conversation, I just say, "Yes. From the very beginning, she's slept through most nights entirely." Even though, technically, that's not true. I imagine that if I had ever attempted to make Amelia sleep by herself in a bassinet or crib, James and I both would have gotten only two hours of sleep every night.↩
Saturday, December 8, 2012
A Celebratory Post of Sorts
Those of you who know me well are aware that I struggled with depression1 and anxiety for a long time. As best I can tell, it started way back in my sophomore year of high school and continued until last year or so. That's round about eight years of awfulness.
Shortly after I moved up to Oregon with James, I decided enough was enough and went to the doctor... even though I'd been a few times in college and that experience was less than successful.2
Well, I started a different medication (Wellbutrin) which seemed to work wonders, whereas the traditional SSRIs hadn't been helping. And then I started going to therapy every week. That was back in, say... September 2011. And guess what? Last week was my last therapy visit, because I've been doing so well for so long without regressing. My psychiatrist, my therapist, and I all thought I'd probably end up with postpartum depression, but it never happened despite the enormous stress I've been under. So I don't need any more therapy.
I had also kind of expected that I'd need to take the antidepressant forever since I was severely depressed for an entire eight years. That's pretty bad... theoretically, if you let depression run its course untreated it should last two years and go away. Mine didn't, obviously. So I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to get off an antidepressant if I ever found one that worked.
But guess what? My psychiatrist thinks I will likely be able to get off of it two years after the start date. Woot! I find that very encouraging. Hopefully there will be permanent changes to the synapses in my brain so I don't go nuts any more. Woot! (I think a lot of my recovery has to do with the fact that my thyroid is also being treated successfully now. If I had to guess, my depression started when the thyroid disease started.)
Anyway, I want to celebrate. Therapy is hard work, yo. It's hard to pull yourself out of an unmotivated slump. As I've expressed in earlier posts, it's a shame I couldn't get this all figured out earlier... because then I might have gotten a 4.0 GPA, had a social life, and made more money during college. Everyone would have been blinded by awesome.
I am much more motivated now. I am especially struck by my ability to establish new habits... I was always really, really, really awful at that. Starting about the same time as the depression did (who would've thought?) I had the most difficult time keeping up with things that should have been easy... like (gasp) daily hygiene things. Those of you who've had depression understand. It was just so... hard. I'd do them maybe every other day. I had a hard time doing other daily habits like reading scriptures and writing in my journal.3 And now? Now that all is better? I can do all of these things and it's no big deal. Heck, I even look forward to them. Woot!
Love and synapses,
Jenna
1 This is a fairly good description of what depression can be like. Also funny. Be warned, though, it has three bad words in it.↩
2 The nurse practitioner wouldn't believe that I was majoring in neuroscience because it was interesting. Clearly I was majoring in that to prove to everyone that I was really smart, and I didn't major in something more sensible like English because I was afraid that others would think I was dumb. And my depression would go away if I switched to a better major like Home and Family Life. ... ... ... Wait, really? I can't help but wonder if this woman would have suggested the same thing to a guy. Yes, it was a woman who told me this.↩
3 I'm almost ashamed to admit one of the big reasons why it was so hard for me to establish habits because it was so completely irrational. I had this almost irresistible need to start at the number one, meaning, that if I missed a journal entry on Sunday, I couldn't start my journal again until the next Sunday (or the first day of the month... or January 1 of the next year) because that was the first day of the week. Even worse, I felt the need to start a new journal after I skipped a day, because I'd sullied my perfect record. It didn't really matter that I'd only filled half a page and there were eighty empty pages left. It was imperfect and needed to be trashed. It's like that for visiting teaching, too. If I miss a month, I feel so strongly like I can't start over again until January. ... I know, it doesn't really make sense, but... I just... yeah. I'm getting over it. That's a little OCD element to my depression. It's easier now to override the urge to start at number one. ... Thank goodness.↩
Shortly after I moved up to Oregon with James, I decided enough was enough and went to the doctor... even though I'd been a few times in college and that experience was less than successful.2
Well, I started a different medication (Wellbutrin) which seemed to work wonders, whereas the traditional SSRIs hadn't been helping. And then I started going to therapy every week. That was back in, say... September 2011. And guess what? Last week was my last therapy visit, because I've been doing so well for so long without regressing. My psychiatrist, my therapist, and I all thought I'd probably end up with postpartum depression, but it never happened despite the enormous stress I've been under. So I don't need any more therapy.
I had also kind of expected that I'd need to take the antidepressant forever since I was severely depressed for an entire eight years. That's pretty bad... theoretically, if you let depression run its course untreated it should last two years and go away. Mine didn't, obviously. So I wasn't sure I'd ever be able to get off an antidepressant if I ever found one that worked.
But guess what? My psychiatrist thinks I will likely be able to get off of it two years after the start date. Woot! I find that very encouraging. Hopefully there will be permanent changes to the synapses in my brain so I don't go nuts any more. Woot! (I think a lot of my recovery has to do with the fact that my thyroid is also being treated successfully now. If I had to guess, my depression started when the thyroid disease started.)
Anyway, I want to celebrate. Therapy is hard work, yo. It's hard to pull yourself out of an unmotivated slump. As I've expressed in earlier posts, it's a shame I couldn't get this all figured out earlier... because then I might have gotten a 4.0 GPA, had a social life, and made more money during college. Everyone would have been blinded by awesome.
I am much more motivated now. I am especially struck by my ability to establish new habits... I was always really, really, really awful at that. Starting about the same time as the depression did (who would've thought?) I had the most difficult time keeping up with things that should have been easy... like (gasp) daily hygiene things. Those of you who've had depression understand. It was just so... hard. I'd do them maybe every other day. I had a hard time doing other daily habits like reading scriptures and writing in my journal.3 And now? Now that all is better? I can do all of these things and it's no big deal. Heck, I even look forward to them. Woot!
Love and synapses,
Jenna
1 This is a fairly good description of what depression can be like. Also funny. Be warned, though, it has three bad words in it.↩
2 The nurse practitioner wouldn't believe that I was majoring in neuroscience because it was interesting. Clearly I was majoring in that to prove to everyone that I was really smart, and I didn't major in something more sensible like English because I was afraid that others would think I was dumb. And my depression would go away if I switched to a better major like Home and Family Life. ... ... ... Wait, really? I can't help but wonder if this woman would have suggested the same thing to a guy. Yes, it was a woman who told me this.↩
3 I'm almost ashamed to admit one of the big reasons why it was so hard for me to establish habits because it was so completely irrational. I had this almost irresistible need to start at the number one, meaning, that if I missed a journal entry on Sunday, I couldn't start my journal again until the next Sunday (or the first day of the month... or January 1 of the next year) because that was the first day of the week. Even worse, I felt the need to start a new journal after I skipped a day, because I'd sullied my perfect record. It didn't really matter that I'd only filled half a page and there were eighty empty pages left. It was imperfect and needed to be trashed. It's like that for visiting teaching, too. If I miss a month, I feel so strongly like I can't start over again until January. ... I know, it doesn't really make sense, but... I just... yeah. I'm getting over it. That's a little OCD element to my depression. It's easier now to override the urge to start at number one. ... Thank goodness.↩
Saturday, December 1, 2012
Nursing and Raising Eyebrows
Although there have been drastic improvements, it disappoints me that our society continues to not be completely nursing-friendly. It claims to be nursing-friendly, but it isn't really. Under the facade, you see that unless you breastfeed in private and only until your baby is about one year old, it's considered taboo.
Before I get into this post, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that this is most definitely not meant as a criticism of any individual parent. There's one thing I know for sure: I will never, ever know someone else's circumstances entirely. Furthermore, I believe that almost all parents do the best they can to raise their children.
So, while not addressing any individuals, I'd like to comment on society at large while also dispelling some breastfeeding myths. Got that? I'm writing about society, not you or your dog or your grandmother. I'm not even talking about your secret casserole recipe. Er... ahem.
I am, I suppose, unusually casual when it comes to nursing. I do it everywhere without any qualms, although when there's a special place set aside to nurse, I will go there under consideration of others. But really, I can only think of one place that has a special room for nursing ladies: church. Everywhere else though? If baby is hungry, I'll find a place to sit and feed her right then and there.
I'm grateful that I'm legally allowed to feed Amelia anywhere I please, but I suppose there will always be people who think I should only do it in private. To these, I say, What would you have me do when I'm out and about? Nurse in a public bathroom stall? Heck no. That just can't be sanitary.
Still others expect me to be abashed about it. What for? At a picnic back when I was learning how to nurse, one of my friends would cover me up with a blanket in a sweet effort to be kind.1 I didn't say anything to her because she was being thoughtful, but since then I've thought about it more... I think she thought I would be mortified if anyone saw me nursing.
That little experience said to me that publicly nursing is still (deep down) considered unusual and still makes people uncomfortable, whether it be the nursing mother herself or everyone else. It is my firm opinion that you should be able to feed your baby in public without embarrassment, whether it be via breast or bottle.
I decided a while back to do my best to help others become comfortable with nursing. For me, the easiest and most effective way to make others comfortable when I nurse in their vicinity is to do so like it's no big whoop. And once they realize that I feel it's no big whoop, then it truly becomes no big whoop. And it really isn't a big whoop. Got that?
I learned something else about society at that picnic... It's apparently not okay to nurse toddlers in America. And God forbid that you should even consider nursing an older child! There was a brief discussion about when and why some people weaned, wherein I learned that there was an abundance of misinformation out there.
One woman explained that she got pregnant, so she weaned.2 Another woman got antsy when she realized her baby was growing teeth, so she weaned.3 Another woman added that her son actually bit off one of her nipples, so she understandably stopped nursing cold turkey.4
This next reason grieves me. A woman weaned her son because it disturbed her how much he loved her boobs... she interpreted it as a sexual interest in breasts that needed immediate correcting. How sad for the baby! To have nursing taken away as punishment for expressing how happy and safe he felt nursing in his mother's arms!5
Another common reason for weaning was simply that mom had much difficulty with it and the help she needed was not available. She might have even gotten misinformation. And then, to make things worse, said mothers were criticized for not breastfeeding as if it was all their fault. There's something wrong with that.
And then there were the many who stopped because their children were "too old to nurse". Ugh. That would only be an issue in a Western society coming out of the Formula-Fed Era. I really wish it wasn't like that. There's no good biological reason to think all toddlers are "too old" to nurse.
Here's the thing. I never thought I'd feel so strongly about nursing, but I do. It's Amelia's favorite thing. It is precious to me, and I wish there wasn't the pressure to stop it ASAP. It sometimes feels like everyone expects you to start the weaning process on or soon after baby's first birthday... And weaning sounds like it can be so stressful, too!
Well, I've decided. Amelia will be the one to wean herself, unless something else requires us to wean earlier. Call me a hippie mom, but that's how it will be. I'm able to nurse as long as the two of us'd like, so why shouldn't I?6
So I will be nursing for a while. Here's the part where I get a little uncertain of myself. It is so taboo to nurse toddlers and older children, that if I continue doing so in public, I am certain to attract some negative attention. Thankfully, I've got plenty of time to decide, but eventually I'll have to decide whether I'm going to closet nurse... or continue nursing in public, obstinately insisting that it's completely normal whenever eyebrows are raised. Sigh. And the worst part is, "Be the change you want to see" keeps ringing in my head. Even when I read my patriarchal blessing, this comes to mind when I read about how I'm supposed to be a powerful example. No pressure, Self, no pressure...
So yeah. There is a distinct possibility that I will someday be known as that eccentric woman who nurses her toddlers/kids, even in public. Oh well. I shall take comfort in the fact that maybe one or two others might build up the courage to do the same.
Love and milk lasers,
Jenna and Amelia
1 I hate, hate, hate, hate nursing covers. Amelia hates them. I don't use them because they're not worth the hassle unless you truly are mortified if somebody sees what you're doing. (Do whatever you have to do to feel comfortable, ladies!) Plus, I don't think they help you nurse unobserved. If anything, I feel they draw attention. Sure, they may hide boob flesh better, but let's face it... the baby's body does a pretty good job of that too.↩
2 It is a myth that pregnancy causes breastmilk to "dry up". Here's what does happen... Remember when your breasts ached during pregnancy? That happens again, so nursing can become more uncomfortable. Also, pregnancy hormones may cause your milk supply to decrease somewhat, but at this point, your little one is probably getting most of his or her nutrients from solid food anyway. So, if mom and baby are amenable, you can nurse throughout pregnancy. If you want to. And, once your next baby is born, you can nurse both kids. It's called tandem nursing.↩
3 Teeth shouldn't interfere with nursing, nor should they make nursing uncomfortable. As La Leche League explains, "It is important to understand that when a baby is latched on to the breast correctly, his lips are flanged and his gums land far back on the areola (the dark area around the nipple). His bottom teeth are covered by his tongue and do not come in contact with the mother's areola at all. For this reason, a baby who is latched on correctly and actively nursing cannot bite. However, if a baby is latched onto the nipple only, the baby can clamp down and cause pain to the mother's nipple. Good positioning and latch-on techniques can prevent painful bites."↩
4 I have been told that this is remarkably uncommon. Despite that, I have sometimes wondered what I would do in such an event. I guess I would go to urgent care or the E.R. and awkwardly explain that I need my nipple reattached. Awkwaaaaard... As for the kid's fate... a scolding. And then I would keep Band-Aids over my nipples and explain, "You broke Mom's boobs! They don't work any more!" Speaking of biting, did you know how the Milky Way, our galaxy, got its name? Juno, the ancient Roman goddess, was nursing Hercules... and then he bit her. Of course, she took him off the breast, squirting milk all over the sky in the process. Ha, it's the story of my life, minus the biting! Jets of milk going all over the place like a wild fire hose!↩
5 Both mother and baby get a hefty dose of oxytocin, the happy hormone, while nursing. It helps with milk letdown... and it also makes you thirsty.↩
6 It seems that, left to her own devices, a child will wean herself when she's ready. Researchers' best estimate for a normal weaning age is 2.5 to 7. See here.↩
Before I get into this post, I'd like to make it perfectly clear that this is most definitely not meant as a criticism of any individual parent. There's one thing I know for sure: I will never, ever know someone else's circumstances entirely. Furthermore, I believe that almost all parents do the best they can to raise their children.
So, while not addressing any individuals, I'd like to comment on society at large while also dispelling some breastfeeding myths. Got that? I'm writing about society, not you or your dog or your grandmother. I'm not even talking about your secret casserole recipe. Er... ahem.
I am, I suppose, unusually casual when it comes to nursing. I do it everywhere without any qualms, although when there's a special place set aside to nurse, I will go there under consideration of others. But really, I can only think of one place that has a special room for nursing ladies: church. Everywhere else though? If baby is hungry, I'll find a place to sit and feed her right then and there.
I'm grateful that I'm legally allowed to feed Amelia anywhere I please, but I suppose there will always be people who think I should only do it in private. To these, I say, What would you have me do when I'm out and about? Nurse in a public bathroom stall? Heck no. That just can't be sanitary.
Still others expect me to be abashed about it. What for? At a picnic back when I was learning how to nurse, one of my friends would cover me up with a blanket in a sweet effort to be kind.1 I didn't say anything to her because she was being thoughtful, but since then I've thought about it more... I think she thought I would be mortified if anyone saw me nursing.
That little experience said to me that publicly nursing is still (deep down) considered unusual and still makes people uncomfortable, whether it be the nursing mother herself or everyone else. It is my firm opinion that you should be able to feed your baby in public without embarrassment, whether it be via breast or bottle.
I decided a while back to do my best to help others become comfortable with nursing. For me, the easiest and most effective way to make others comfortable when I nurse in their vicinity is to do so like it's no big whoop. And once they realize that I feel it's no big whoop, then it truly becomes no big whoop. And it really isn't a big whoop. Got that?
I learned something else about society at that picnic... It's apparently not okay to nurse toddlers in America. And God forbid that you should even consider nursing an older child! There was a brief discussion about when and why some people weaned, wherein I learned that there was an abundance of misinformation out there.
One woman explained that she got pregnant, so she weaned.2 Another woman got antsy when she realized her baby was growing teeth, so she weaned.3 Another woman added that her son actually bit off one of her nipples, so she understandably stopped nursing cold turkey.4
This next reason grieves me. A woman weaned her son because it disturbed her how much he loved her boobs... she interpreted it as a sexual interest in breasts that needed immediate correcting. How sad for the baby! To have nursing taken away as punishment for expressing how happy and safe he felt nursing in his mother's arms!5
Another common reason for weaning was simply that mom had much difficulty with it and the help she needed was not available. She might have even gotten misinformation. And then, to make things worse, said mothers were criticized for not breastfeeding as if it was all their fault. There's something wrong with that.
And then there were the many who stopped because their children were "too old to nurse". Ugh. That would only be an issue in a Western society coming out of the Formula-Fed Era. I really wish it wasn't like that. There's no good biological reason to think all toddlers are "too old" to nurse.
Here's the thing. I never thought I'd feel so strongly about nursing, but I do. It's Amelia's favorite thing. It is precious to me, and I wish there wasn't the pressure to stop it ASAP. It sometimes feels like everyone expects you to start the weaning process on or soon after baby's first birthday... And weaning sounds like it can be so stressful, too!
Well, I've decided. Amelia will be the one to wean herself, unless something else requires us to wean earlier. Call me a hippie mom, but that's how it will be. I'm able to nurse as long as the two of us'd like, so why shouldn't I?6
So I will be nursing for a while. Here's the part where I get a little uncertain of myself. It is so taboo to nurse toddlers and older children, that if I continue doing so in public, I am certain to attract some negative attention. Thankfully, I've got plenty of time to decide, but eventually I'll have to decide whether I'm going to closet nurse... or continue nursing in public, obstinately insisting that it's completely normal whenever eyebrows are raised. Sigh. And the worst part is, "Be the change you want to see" keeps ringing in my head. Even when I read my patriarchal blessing, this comes to mind when I read about how I'm supposed to be a powerful example. No pressure, Self, no pressure...
So yeah. There is a distinct possibility that I will someday be known as that eccentric woman who nurses her toddlers/kids, even in public. Oh well. I shall take comfort in the fact that maybe one or two others might build up the courage to do the same.
Love and milk lasers,
Jenna and Amelia
1 I hate, hate, hate, hate nursing covers. Amelia hates them. I don't use them because they're not worth the hassle unless you truly are mortified if somebody sees what you're doing. (Do whatever you have to do to feel comfortable, ladies!) Plus, I don't think they help you nurse unobserved. If anything, I feel they draw attention. Sure, they may hide boob flesh better, but let's face it... the baby's body does a pretty good job of that too.↩
2 It is a myth that pregnancy causes breastmilk to "dry up". Here's what does happen... Remember when your breasts ached during pregnancy? That happens again, so nursing can become more uncomfortable. Also, pregnancy hormones may cause your milk supply to decrease somewhat, but at this point, your little one is probably getting most of his or her nutrients from solid food anyway. So, if mom and baby are amenable, you can nurse throughout pregnancy. If you want to. And, once your next baby is born, you can nurse both kids. It's called tandem nursing.↩
3 Teeth shouldn't interfere with nursing, nor should they make nursing uncomfortable. As La Leche League explains, "It is important to understand that when a baby is latched on to the breast correctly, his lips are flanged and his gums land far back on the areola (the dark area around the nipple). His bottom teeth are covered by his tongue and do not come in contact with the mother's areola at all. For this reason, a baby who is latched on correctly and actively nursing cannot bite. However, if a baby is latched onto the nipple only, the baby can clamp down and cause pain to the mother's nipple. Good positioning and latch-on techniques can prevent painful bites."↩
4 I have been told that this is remarkably uncommon. Despite that, I have sometimes wondered what I would do in such an event. I guess I would go to urgent care or the E.R. and awkwardly explain that I need my nipple reattached. Awkwaaaaard... As for the kid's fate... a scolding. And then I would keep Band-Aids over my nipples and explain, "You broke Mom's boobs! They don't work any more!" Speaking of biting, did you know how the Milky Way, our galaxy, got its name? Juno, the ancient Roman goddess, was nursing Hercules... and then he bit her. Of course, she took him off the breast, squirting milk all over the sky in the process. Ha, it's the story of my life, minus the biting! Jets of milk going all over the place like a wild fire hose!↩
5 Both mother and baby get a hefty dose of oxytocin, the happy hormone, while nursing. It helps with milk letdown... and it also makes you thirsty.↩
6 It seems that, left to her own devices, a child will wean herself when she's ready. Researchers' best estimate for a normal weaning age is 2.5 to 7. See here.↩
Friday, November 30, 2012
James the Dazzling Daddy, Fantastical Father, and Prodigious Parental Unit
James is a good father... and also a good husband. I like him.
Last night our poor baby starting acting ill... The first sign was that she started nursing twice as much as if something was bothering her. She'd been congested all day, was coughing, and sounded hoarse whenever she cried. And, as James pointed out, she did not realize that the worst thing you can do for your sore throat is to scream at the top of your lungs for as long as possible.
Well, we went to bed. I soon realized that nursing her to sleep was not going to work its usual wonders... In fact, because she was so congested, she just got more worked up and frustrated the more she nursed. Soon I ended up with a screaming baby. I tried singing for her, but that wasn't working so well.
James came down and started bouncing with her on our exercise ball, which calmed her down some. (She doesn't like it as much when I do it for some reason.) She wasn't completely appeased though, and complained a bit until he started singing. She was quiet until our neighbors pounded on the wall for him to shut up. Sigh. That was somewhat depressing, but Amelia rewarded them by crying with renewed vigor.
If Amelia has the same kind of sick that I am right now, I sympathize with her. I was also feeling sick to my stomach and sore all over. (Gugh.) Because I was feeling ill, James sent me to bed. He also did so because I was going to be taking care of her for the entirety of the next day (or at least until he came home after the sun went down). It was very nice of him.
Amelia woke us up a few more times in the night; if feeding didn't soothe her, James would take her downstairs for more bouncing. She'd eventually fall asleep in his arms, but in order to keep her calm and asleep, he'd have to continue bouncing. She'd also flail a lot in while sleeping, and the weight of his hands on her arms kept her calm.
I think Amelia likes James. Once I went to visit him on campus with Amelia. She'd been grumpy on the bus ride, but as soon as she saw James her face blossomed into a beautiful smile. Then the two of them played a bit. It was cute.
James is also pretty awesome in that he listens to me if I think he should be doing something better. Just this week, I noticed something he was doing that bothered me. For much of the time when he was holding Amelia in the evenings after coming home from school, he'd basically try to get her to be quiet and ignore her while playing on the computer. I told him that this was fine and dandy in small amounts, but it was happening enough that it made me sad. After some thought, I suggested that instead he explain to her what he was doing...
So now, James will talk to her about his email. He will explain StarCraft to her as he watches the professionals play. And if he's playing a silly game on Kongregate, he'll explain that to her as well. (Pew! Pew! Hey Amelia, see the blue guys? They are bad. Pew pew!)
James is so nice. I really appreciate him, especially because he lets me have some "me" time each evening.1 Sigh. He's so awesome. (Can you tell I'm completely smitten?)
Oh, and one more thing. He makes me food all the time, and cleans the apartment fairly often.2 Mmmm, husbands are delicious.
Love with hearts popping out of our heads,
Jenna and Amelia
1 Before Amelia, I actually disliked showers with a hefty dose of dread. I hated getting wet. I don't like it. But now, after she's arrived, I find that I eagerly anticipate my showers each day. They are luxuriously wonderful... hot water, being clean... and I can't even hear baby screams over the water sounds.↩
2 As motivation to be productive every day, he has the following goals: leave the house Monday through Friday by 7:30am or clean one room; be productive for all but one hour from 8am to 5pm each Monday through Friday or clean one room; no playing games until after studying for at least one hour each day (on Sundays this means some sort of gospel study); and, most recently added, check the Internet only three times daily. At this rate, he'll be even more awesome in no time. :)↩
Last night our poor baby starting acting ill... The first sign was that she started nursing twice as much as if something was bothering her. She'd been congested all day, was coughing, and sounded hoarse whenever she cried. And, as James pointed out, she did not realize that the worst thing you can do for your sore throat is to scream at the top of your lungs for as long as possible.
Well, we went to bed. I soon realized that nursing her to sleep was not going to work its usual wonders... In fact, because she was so congested, she just got more worked up and frustrated the more she nursed. Soon I ended up with a screaming baby. I tried singing for her, but that wasn't working so well.
James came down and started bouncing with her on our exercise ball, which calmed her down some. (She doesn't like it as much when I do it for some reason.) She wasn't completely appeased though, and complained a bit until he started singing. She was quiet until our neighbors pounded on the wall for him to shut up. Sigh. That was somewhat depressing, but Amelia rewarded them by crying with renewed vigor.
If Amelia has the same kind of sick that I am right now, I sympathize with her. I was also feeling sick to my stomach and sore all over. (Gugh.) Because I was feeling ill, James sent me to bed. He also did so because I was going to be taking care of her for the entirety of the next day (or at least until he came home after the sun went down). It was very nice of him.
Amelia woke us up a few more times in the night; if feeding didn't soothe her, James would take her downstairs for more bouncing. She'd eventually fall asleep in his arms, but in order to keep her calm and asleep, he'd have to continue bouncing. She'd also flail a lot in while sleeping, and the weight of his hands on her arms kept her calm.
I think Amelia likes James. Once I went to visit him on campus with Amelia. She'd been grumpy on the bus ride, but as soon as she saw James her face blossomed into a beautiful smile. Then the two of them played a bit. It was cute.
James is also pretty awesome in that he listens to me if I think he should be doing something better. Just this week, I noticed something he was doing that bothered me. For much of the time when he was holding Amelia in the evenings after coming home from school, he'd basically try to get her to be quiet and ignore her while playing on the computer. I told him that this was fine and dandy in small amounts, but it was happening enough that it made me sad. After some thought, I suggested that instead he explain to her what he was doing...
So now, James will talk to her about his email. He will explain StarCraft to her as he watches the professionals play. And if he's playing a silly game on Kongregate, he'll explain that to her as well. (Pew! Pew! Hey Amelia, see the blue guys? They are bad. Pew pew!)
James is so nice. I really appreciate him, especially because he lets me have some "me" time each evening.1 Sigh. He's so awesome. (Can you tell I'm completely smitten?)
Oh, and one more thing. He makes me food all the time, and cleans the apartment fairly often.2 Mmmm, husbands are delicious.
Love with hearts popping out of our heads,
Jenna and Amelia
1 Before Amelia, I actually disliked showers with a hefty dose of dread. I hated getting wet. I don't like it. But now, after she's arrived, I find that I eagerly anticipate my showers each day. They are luxuriously wonderful... hot water, being clean... and I can't even hear baby screams over the water sounds.↩
2 As motivation to be productive every day, he has the following goals: leave the house Monday through Friday by 7:30am or clean one room; be productive for all but one hour from 8am to 5pm each Monday through Friday or clean one room; no playing games until after studying for at least one hour each day (on Sundays this means some sort of gospel study); and, most recently added, check the Internet only three times daily. At this rate, he'll be even more awesome in no time. :)↩
Tuesday, November 27, 2012
My Pride and Joy
This is a rather self-reflective post. I am now summoning deep thoughts. Oooohmmm...
Since having Amelia, I have especially noticed two feelings in myself... one being my pride and the other being my joy.
Pride
So... I'm pretty sure there's a piece of my brain (possibly called the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus) running in overdrive. Whenever Amelia is extreme in anyway, I feel the need to brag.
Take, for instance, Amelia's size. She's pretty big. This morning she weighed 16.5 lbs, and she is now wearing size 3 diapers. She's somewhere above the 95th size percentile, despite having been born a little over two weeks early.
Now, I'm very aware that big does not equal superior. But the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus begs to differ. Of course Amelia is the best baby in the world. She is superior because she's huge. She's also super smart, and could easily win a baby beauty contest. ...Yeah. So says the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus. This area of my brain is completely immune to reason, and I suspect it sees superiority in all my Amelia-related observations. Heck, if Amelia had the longest nose hair ever, I think it would use this fact as proof of her awesomeness.
So... I'll admit it. I think my baby is better than yours. And I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because I'm sure you feel exactly the same way about your baby, too. And really, doesn't everyone need someone to believe they're awesome?
So that isn't the problematic pride, I don't think. But I do consider pride to be my biggest weakness. I think pretty highly of myself. Hopefully this should not come as a surprise to you.
The problematic pride comes when I begin thinking more highly of myself than I think of pretty much anyone else. I've noticed that I am particularly proud of my parenting skills, to the extent that I prickle inside whenever anyone gives me advice. I find this really annoying, because I've noticed this irritation regardless of who is giving the advice. Really though, I find lots of advice helpful, particularly from family members, including in-laws. (So please, keep giving me advice.)
But there you have it. In some irrational part of my mind, I am the most expert mother on the planet. I realize, of course, that I'm not, but it sure doesn't feel that way.
I do want to remedy this. So, question... How does one become humble? You hear all the time that if you don't humble yourself, God'll do it for you, but... Sigh. I'd wager that the first step is to recognize you have a problem, then feel some good ol' godly sorrow and want to change, and then pray for help, but beyond that, I'm stuck. I think I need an "Idiot's Guide to Humility".
I am very curious to hear your thoughts on this. Both James and I really struggle with pride, so he's not an expert in humility either. Halp!
Joy
Now for the lighthearted part of this post. Amelia makes me ridiculously happy inside, enough so that I am absolutely certain I am in the throes of excessively hormonal emotions. To give you an idea how far gone I am, recall how difficult my pregnancy was. Now remember how childbirth was no piece of cake. And lastly, remember Amelia's month-long bout of colicky crying...
Okay, got that all fresh in your mind? Now imagine this. Even in the midst of Amelia's most desperately loud cries, after hours of tears, I catch myself thinking, I really like Amelia. I should have MORE babies, ASAP.
I think I am now certifiably insane and legitimately baby crazy. Recall my reluctance during pregnancy to have more than one or two babies... Well, now I'm just itching to spend the rest of my days procreating. I get a little excited whenever I have a little stomachache, because maybe it's morning sickness! ... You know, even though there's this contraception stuff, and high levels of prolactin coursing through my system, both of which are preventing me from conceiving. And good thing too, because my ever-reasonable brain insists now would be a very bad time to get pregnant again.
My new-found baby craziness really surprises me, actually. Before Amelia popped out, I would never have considered myself a baby person. Like EVER. As a teenager, when all the other Young Women were cooing over the babies in the ward, I was quite content to remain at the opposite end of the church building. I dreaded babysitting. I was pretty ignorant of basic baby care and didn't care to correct this... because it would mean hanging out with babies. Yyyyick. Heck, I even had a hard time when people started calling babies cute. Say whaaat? That purple, wrinkly thing? Cute? If you say so...
Behold! See how the mighty have fallen! I lay awake at night thinking up baby names1, because I'm going to need a lot, that's for sure. I only have four names picked out, and I'll need at least thirty, right? I hoard all our too-small baby clothes, because clearly I will need them again... for several agains. Clearly, I cannot share my baby gear wealth, right? Heck, I'm so far gone, I can barely contain the itch to collect baby boy clothes.
Anyway, babies everywhere,2
Jenna and Amelia
1 I still really like the names Abigail Joy and Adela Katharine... I've convinced myself my second daughter will be Abigail, and my third will be Adela. And as for boys... I still struggle with that. James and I joke about naming our first son James Tiberius Dilts III, but after spending Thanksgiving in the same house as James Mohan Dilts (James' nephew), I'm not so sure. I don't think I'll be able to handle the confusion caused by having two boys (father and son) who both go by James/Jimmy/Jim in one dwelling, and I can't imagine myself calling my son Tiberius, despite the nerd value (think Star Trek's Captain Kirk)... so... If we do name our first son James, it might be James Griffin Dilts instead. And then we can call him Griffin. I'm okay with that.↩
2 This is a reference to this Nutrigrain commercial.↩
Since having Amelia, I have especially noticed two feelings in myself... one being my pride and the other being my joy.
Pride
So... I'm pretty sure there's a piece of my brain (possibly called the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus) running in overdrive. Whenever Amelia is extreme in anyway, I feel the need to brag.
Take, for instance, Amelia's size. She's pretty big. This morning she weighed 16.5 lbs, and she is now wearing size 3 diapers. She's somewhere above the 95th size percentile, despite having been born a little over two weeks early.
Now, I'm very aware that big does not equal superior. But the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus begs to differ. Of course Amelia is the best baby in the world. She is superior because she's huge. She's also super smart, and could easily win a baby beauty contest. ...Yeah. So says the my-baby-is-awesome gyrus. This area of my brain is completely immune to reason, and I suspect it sees superiority in all my Amelia-related observations. Heck, if Amelia had the longest nose hair ever, I think it would use this fact as proof of her awesomeness.
So... I'll admit it. I think my baby is better than yours. And I don't feel the slightest bit guilty about it, because I'm sure you feel exactly the same way about your baby, too. And really, doesn't everyone need someone to believe they're awesome?
So that isn't the problematic pride, I don't think. But I do consider pride to be my biggest weakness. I think pretty highly of myself. Hopefully this should not come as a surprise to you.
The problematic pride comes when I begin thinking more highly of myself than I think of pretty much anyone else. I've noticed that I am particularly proud of my parenting skills, to the extent that I prickle inside whenever anyone gives me advice. I find this really annoying, because I've noticed this irritation regardless of who is giving the advice. Really though, I find lots of advice helpful, particularly from family members, including in-laws. (So please, keep giving me advice.)
But there you have it. In some irrational part of my mind, I am the most expert mother on the planet. I realize, of course, that I'm not, but it sure doesn't feel that way.
I do want to remedy this. So, question... How does one become humble? You hear all the time that if you don't humble yourself, God'll do it for you, but... Sigh. I'd wager that the first step is to recognize you have a problem, then feel some good ol' godly sorrow and want to change, and then pray for help, but beyond that, I'm stuck. I think I need an "Idiot's Guide to Humility".
I am very curious to hear your thoughts on this. Both James and I really struggle with pride, so he's not an expert in humility either. Halp!
Joy
Now for the lighthearted part of this post. Amelia makes me ridiculously happy inside, enough so that I am absolutely certain I am in the throes of excessively hormonal emotions. To give you an idea how far gone I am, recall how difficult my pregnancy was. Now remember how childbirth was no piece of cake. And lastly, remember Amelia's month-long bout of colicky crying...
Okay, got that all fresh in your mind? Now imagine this. Even in the midst of Amelia's most desperately loud cries, after hours of tears, I catch myself thinking, I really like Amelia. I should have MORE babies, ASAP.
I think I am now certifiably insane and legitimately baby crazy. Recall my reluctance during pregnancy to have more than one or two babies... Well, now I'm just itching to spend the rest of my days procreating. I get a little excited whenever I have a little stomachache, because maybe it's morning sickness! ... You know, even though there's this contraception stuff, and high levels of prolactin coursing through my system, both of which are preventing me from conceiving. And good thing too, because my ever-reasonable brain insists now would be a very bad time to get pregnant again.
My new-found baby craziness really surprises me, actually. Before Amelia popped out, I would never have considered myself a baby person. Like EVER. As a teenager, when all the other Young Women were cooing over the babies in the ward, I was quite content to remain at the opposite end of the church building. I dreaded babysitting. I was pretty ignorant of basic baby care and didn't care to correct this... because it would mean hanging out with babies. Yyyyick. Heck, I even had a hard time when people started calling babies cute. Say whaaat? That purple, wrinkly thing? Cute? If you say so...
Behold! See how the mighty have fallen! I lay awake at night thinking up baby names1, because I'm going to need a lot, that's for sure. I only have four names picked out, and I'll need at least thirty, right? I hoard all our too-small baby clothes, because clearly I will need them again... for several agains. Clearly, I cannot share my baby gear wealth, right? Heck, I'm so far gone, I can barely contain the itch to collect baby boy clothes.
Anyway, babies everywhere,2
Jenna and Amelia
1 I still really like the names Abigail Joy and Adela Katharine... I've convinced myself my second daughter will be Abigail, and my third will be Adela. And as for boys... I still struggle with that. James and I joke about naming our first son James Tiberius Dilts III, but after spending Thanksgiving in the same house as James Mohan Dilts (James' nephew), I'm not so sure. I don't think I'll be able to handle the confusion caused by having two boys (father and son) who both go by James/Jimmy/Jim in one dwelling, and I can't imagine myself calling my son Tiberius, despite the nerd value (think Star Trek's Captain Kirk)... so... If we do name our first son James, it might be James Griffin Dilts instead. And then we can call him Griffin. I'm okay with that.↩
2 This is a reference to this Nutrigrain commercial.↩
Monday, November 19, 2012
How My Neuroscience Degree Has Made Me a Better Mother
In one word, it's made me confident.
Here's why. I've learned how to read, understand, and critique research in the fast-growing field of neuroscience, which means that whenever I hear a piece of parenting advice, I know how to find out if that advice is actually good advice or bad advice. And then once I know that... well, then I can easily dismiss advice I know isn't supported by research. Or, when someone expresses doubts about my parenting style, I can confidently explain to them why I'm parenting the way I am. It's glorious.
For instance, you all know that Amelia had a month-long bout of colic, so I got tons of advice. One piece of advice I heard repeatedly was to put the baby in the crib and then let her cry it out until she falls asleep. Now, while this is certainly better than losing your cool, shaking the baby, and thus giving her a concussion, or worse, causing brain damage or even death... I know that if I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically able to, I should respond to Amelia's cries. Always, always, always!
Besides leaving your baby to cry alone so that you don't lose your sanity and hurt the little one, the biggest rationale I've heard for letting your baby "cry it out" is that this fosters independence.
Um, no. It doesn't. Here's what happening in baby's brain. Lots of stress hormones (the most notable of which is cortisol) are being released while baby is screaming, and your baby's brain is being bathed in them. It turns out that, contrary to popular opinion, babies are completely incapable of soothing themselves for the first few months of life. When a parent soothes a baby, a beautiful biochemical cascade happens to stop more stress hormones from being released and to help clear out some of the stress hormones already coursing through baby's body.
Here's the part that might seem counter-intuitive to someone without a background in neuroscience. Most people would guess that in order for a child to learn how to deal with stress, they need to practice dealing with it on their own. Not so! They aren't actually going to learn how to deal with stress very well unless you keep helping then calm down.
So, why does this make perfect sense from a neuroscience standpoint? Think brain cells, my friends.
Everyone is born with roughly 100 billion brain cells, also known as neurons. And then, guess what? As you develop, lots of them die off. Wait a minute, you say, wouldn't you get brain cells as you got smarter? Nope. It's the connections between the neurons that matter much more. Connections, connections, connections.
As your brain develops, the neurons you use make connections with each other. And the neurons you don't use... get murdered. The saying goes, "Use 'em or lose 'em!" This is certainly true with regards to neurons.
Back to why you should help your baby calm down as much as you can without driving yourself insane. When you trigger the calming cascade in your baby, the neurons in charge of dealing with stress are used, make more connections, and flourish. When you let your baby "cry it out", those cells don't really get used, and so they might remain weak and rarely used, or even die off. Sad!1
Now, I hope I haven't scared everyone. It's not that easy to "ruin" your kid. The brain is plastic (meaning it's always changing). One event is really unlikely to give your child depression or destroy their ability to deal with stress forever. So yeah. Sometimes I am not able to calm Amelia, and I'm going bonkers, and I really don't think it's wise to hold the baby when I'm that far gone. If no one else is around to help out, that means I leave her alone to cry it out and eventually give up and pass out. I've done this a few times.
However, if I can, I do my best to be there for her. If I can't soothe her, and I'm not losing it completely, I just hold her the whole time she cries. This is biochemically a much better option than leaving her alone, because it turns out that even just holding a crying baby triggers a calming cascade... and even if that's not enough to make everything better and make her stop crying, it does help the baby to know that I am always there for her. I can't always fix the problem, but she can cry with me. I'm there.
So yeah. I feel great about parenting. And you know, I think even during the colic, I was fairly confident. You know, for a parent dealing with colic. I think it's impossible not to wonder if you're inadequate when your baby never stops crying, but it was nice to know that I was being a good mom.
You know, I so wish this information was around a hundred years ago. About a hundred years ago, they started telling parents to ignore all their instincts in childcare in the interest of fostering independence. Except it kind of backfired. A few decades ago, "experts" told moms to avoid holding their babies as much as possible, not to look at their babies while holding them, and to ignore their cries. "Experts" told parents to put their babies to sleep on their stomachs to foster earlier mobility (therefore earlier independence). Even worse, they advised putting baby to sleep alone in a crib in their own room. That's pretty much a baby's worst nightmare. Oh, and let's not forget the "experts" telling moms that their breastmilk was bad for their babies, and that they should instead feed them formula.
And you know what the worst part is? Most everyone just said, Oh yeah, of course that would help babies become independent. Nobody bothered to test out these hypotheses before accepting them as truth. Now, a few generations later, we figure out that this was all wrong.
So here I am, coming back to my bottom line: neuroscience makes me confident in my parenting abilities. It's made me realize that my instincts are pretty much spot on. My instinct is to hold the crying baby. That's right. My instinct is to keep her close to me at night. That is great for baby in pretty much every way--emotionally, mentally, physically, developmentally... And nursing2 my baby is best thing ever. I love it so much. Baby loves it so much. Yeah. And I could go on. And maybe I will later, but James is making tasty empanadas.
Love and neurons,
Jenna and Amelia
_____
1 It's true, though, that letting baby cry it out will train your baby to stop crying. This is really scary, because the neuroscience research tells us these babies are just as stressed as (if not more than) babies who cry when stressed. They stopped crying, not because they're no longer stressed, but because they've essentially given up and don't think help will ever come. This means that they may never get that practice in dealing with stress with the help of a parent. Sad. So yeah. I want my baby to cry if she's stressed, because then I can help her out.↩
2 Another thing I think is unfortunate. Our society is very anti-toddler-nursing. That's stupid. There are excellent reasons to wean a child, yes, but honestly? "Too old to nurse"? Why? Why are they too old to nurse? "If they can ask for it, they're too old?" Well, that's fine and dandy, but why in the heck is that true? It's awkward? ... Yeah. That's dumb. Biologically, our babies aren't designed to be completely weaned until the ages of 2.5 to 7 years. And they wean themselves when they're ready. Heck, I could write an entire post about nursing in today's society. But I'm not sure I should, because it makes me prickle with agitation. And it might be controversial. I don't like conflict. I should go hide under a bed and mutter to myself.↩
Here's why. I've learned how to read, understand, and critique research in the fast-growing field of neuroscience, which means that whenever I hear a piece of parenting advice, I know how to find out if that advice is actually good advice or bad advice. And then once I know that... well, then I can easily dismiss advice I know isn't supported by research. Or, when someone expresses doubts about my parenting style, I can confidently explain to them why I'm parenting the way I am. It's glorious.
For instance, you all know that Amelia had a month-long bout of colic, so I got tons of advice. One piece of advice I heard repeatedly was to put the baby in the crib and then let her cry it out until she falls asleep. Now, while this is certainly better than losing your cool, shaking the baby, and thus giving her a concussion, or worse, causing brain damage or even death... I know that if I'm emotionally, mentally, and physically able to, I should respond to Amelia's cries. Always, always, always!
Besides leaving your baby to cry alone so that you don't lose your sanity and hurt the little one, the biggest rationale I've heard for letting your baby "cry it out" is that this fosters independence.
Um, no. It doesn't. Here's what happening in baby's brain. Lots of stress hormones (the most notable of which is cortisol) are being released while baby is screaming, and your baby's brain is being bathed in them. It turns out that, contrary to popular opinion, babies are completely incapable of soothing themselves for the first few months of life. When a parent soothes a baby, a beautiful biochemical cascade happens to stop more stress hormones from being released and to help clear out some of the stress hormones already coursing through baby's body.
Here's the part that might seem counter-intuitive to someone without a background in neuroscience. Most people would guess that in order for a child to learn how to deal with stress, they need to practice dealing with it on their own. Not so! They aren't actually going to learn how to deal with stress very well unless you keep helping then calm down.
So, why does this make perfect sense from a neuroscience standpoint? Think brain cells, my friends.
Everyone is born with roughly 100 billion brain cells, also known as neurons. And then, guess what? As you develop, lots of them die off. Wait a minute, you say, wouldn't you get brain cells as you got smarter? Nope. It's the connections between the neurons that matter much more. Connections, connections, connections.
As your brain develops, the neurons you use make connections with each other. And the neurons you don't use... get murdered. The saying goes, "Use 'em or lose 'em!" This is certainly true with regards to neurons.
Back to why you should help your baby calm down as much as you can without driving yourself insane. When you trigger the calming cascade in your baby, the neurons in charge of dealing with stress are used, make more connections, and flourish. When you let your baby "cry it out", those cells don't really get used, and so they might remain weak and rarely used, or even die off. Sad!1
Now, I hope I haven't scared everyone. It's not that easy to "ruin" your kid. The brain is plastic (meaning it's always changing). One event is really unlikely to give your child depression or destroy their ability to deal with stress forever. So yeah. Sometimes I am not able to calm Amelia, and I'm going bonkers, and I really don't think it's wise to hold the baby when I'm that far gone. If no one else is around to help out, that means I leave her alone to cry it out and eventually give up and pass out. I've done this a few times.
However, if I can, I do my best to be there for her. If I can't soothe her, and I'm not losing it completely, I just hold her the whole time she cries. This is biochemically a much better option than leaving her alone, because it turns out that even just holding a crying baby triggers a calming cascade... and even if that's not enough to make everything better and make her stop crying, it does help the baby to know that I am always there for her. I can't always fix the problem, but she can cry with me. I'm there.
So yeah. I feel great about parenting. And you know, I think even during the colic, I was fairly confident. You know, for a parent dealing with colic. I think it's impossible not to wonder if you're inadequate when your baby never stops crying, but it was nice to know that I was being a good mom.
You know, I so wish this information was around a hundred years ago. About a hundred years ago, they started telling parents to ignore all their instincts in childcare in the interest of fostering independence. Except it kind of backfired. A few decades ago, "experts" told moms to avoid holding their babies as much as possible, not to look at their babies while holding them, and to ignore their cries. "Experts" told parents to put their babies to sleep on their stomachs to foster earlier mobility (therefore earlier independence). Even worse, they advised putting baby to sleep alone in a crib in their own room. That's pretty much a baby's worst nightmare. Oh, and let's not forget the "experts" telling moms that their breastmilk was bad for their babies, and that they should instead feed them formula.
And you know what the worst part is? Most everyone just said, Oh yeah, of course that would help babies become independent. Nobody bothered to test out these hypotheses before accepting them as truth. Now, a few generations later, we figure out that this was all wrong.
So here I am, coming back to my bottom line: neuroscience makes me confident in my parenting abilities. It's made me realize that my instincts are pretty much spot on. My instinct is to hold the crying baby. That's right. My instinct is to keep her close to me at night. That is great for baby in pretty much every way--emotionally, mentally, physically, developmentally... And nursing2 my baby is best thing ever. I love it so much. Baby loves it so much. Yeah. And I could go on. And maybe I will later, but James is making tasty empanadas.
Love and neurons,
Jenna and Amelia
_____
1 It's true, though, that letting baby cry it out will train your baby to stop crying. This is really scary, because the neuroscience research tells us these babies are just as stressed as (if not more than) babies who cry when stressed. They stopped crying, not because they're no longer stressed, but because they've essentially given up and don't think help will ever come. This means that they may never get that practice in dealing with stress with the help of a parent. Sad. So yeah. I want my baby to cry if she's stressed, because then I can help her out.↩
2 Another thing I think is unfortunate. Our society is very anti-toddler-nursing. That's stupid. There are excellent reasons to wean a child, yes, but honestly? "Too old to nurse"? Why? Why are they too old to nurse? "If they can ask for it, they're too old?" Well, that's fine and dandy, but why in the heck is that true? It's awkward? ... Yeah. That's dumb. Biologically, our babies aren't designed to be completely weaned until the ages of 2.5 to 7 years. And they wean themselves when they're ready. Heck, I could write an entire post about nursing in today's society. But I'm not sure I should, because it makes me prickle with agitation. And it might be controversial. I don't like conflict. I should go hide under a bed and mutter to myself.↩
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
The Story of James and Me
Warning: This is uber-detailed. If you want the short version, here it is: James and I met in a dance class. We dated for two weeks, and James was so twitterpated that he already wanted to marry me. This scared me, so I broke up with him and broke his heart. We stayed friends. Two months later, I realized that I had warmed to the idea of marrying the guy, so even though we weren't dating at all, I essentially proposed to him (i.e. told him to propose to me). We got married eight months later.
Now, for the loooong version, complete with lots of fascinating footnotes. You should probably go get some popcorn. Or whatever your traditional snack is.
James and I met1 in a dance class at BYU. For those of you who are familiar with the dance department there, it was Dance 380: Advanced Social Dance taught by Marci every Monday afternoon. That means we were learning fancy moves in foxtrot, rumba, West Coast swing, triple swing, and a few others. The class was set up so that we'd switch partners every five to ten minutes or so, which meant we got to dance with each other once or twice every class period.
I could never remember James' name for the life of every hamster on earth. That's okay, though, because James couldn't remember my name either. For some reason, though, the name Laura (his mother's name) kept coming to mind. The thing was, though, he knew my name wasn't Laura, so whenever it was our turn to dance together, he'd greet me like so: "Hi, not-Laura!"
The final exam would be on triple swing--the most animated, bouncy dance ever. I don't spontaneously bounce... like at all. In fact, I find it rather laborious to bounce as much as the triple swing requires.
Naturally, I wanted to do well on my final exam. I figured the best way to do that was to find a high-energy, bouncy, fun dance partner. I showed up to the final exam and scanned the room for somebody that fit that description. My eyes landed on James. He was rambunctiously and flamboyantly telling a story to a small group of our classmates. Ah, yes. He will most definitely do.
James accepted my request to dance with him, and we spent the time before our test practicing until we were tired of that. Then we sat down on the stage and started your typical get-to-know-you conversation. James decided my major (neuroscience) was nerdy enough so he asked me on a date for the following Saturday.
I accepted2. James borrowed his roommate's car3 and we went rock climbing. I was super nervous about this, as I'd never done it before and I'm scared of heights. Furthermore, I have never been in amazing shape and am generally nervous about physical activity in general. But to my pleasure, James was a fantastic, patient, and very reassuring teacher; so, although I had anticipated feeling humiliated after climbing, I only felt tired.
After climbing, we went to Jamba Juice for tasty noms and talked for quite a while. It got to be time to go, but I was having a good time and didn't want it to end, so I invited him to my place to watch Back to the Future. We did that, and then James really, really had to go because he was already late for work (he worked the night shift at a hotel).
On his way out the door, James said something along the lines of "Call me", to which I said I would. And, strangely, I found myself actually wanting to do something with him again... enough so that I was actually willing to call him. How unusual.
Before I got the chance to come up with an activity to do with him, James called me and invited me to play four square at his place. Lucky for him, four square is one of the few games I actually enjoy, so I drove myself over there and had a great time. Eventually, the four square game stopped and everyone went to FHE at a park. I decided to accompany James there.
We talked some more and ate lots of cookies while most of the other singles played soccer. I expressed my great love for tasty food. James, smooth as ever, jumped at the opportunity and offered to make me biscuits and gravy that coming Sunday. I was okay with that. After FHE, we went back to his apartment and talked until midnight. I made myself attractive in many ways, including my familiarity with the ultra-nerdy webcomic xkcd. I discovered that James had already Facebook stalked me; apparently all my photos told him that I was pretty cool. Like this one. (It was for a homework assignment, I promise!)
Six days ended up being too long to wait for another date; James called me and asked me out again for Saturday. While the original plan had been to fly kites, it turned out to be cold and rainy... so we went bowling (after trying to fly kites, because kites are fun).
After bowling, we headed to my place to watch Star Wars IV. I put in the DVD and pressed play, then sat on the couch... a few feet away from James. A few minutes later, I realized how awkward that was, but... it's not so subtle if you just get up and plop yourself down closer to the guy. What to do, what to do?
My phone rang. I got up to get it, talked for thirty seconds or so, hung up... and replaced myself on the couch, squarely in James' arms. He did not complain. We cuddled. James wrote in his journal that day,
Later that day, James came over to make biscuits and gravy. It was super tasty. Then we watched Star Wars V. Nerds in the audience will be glad to hear that our first kiss was during the credits. A nerdworthy kiss, indeed. James wrote of this day,
And then James flew to London. Excerpts from James' trip to London and Tunisia:
I wonder what it was he bought me. I forgot. Anyway, while we were eating our Chick-Fil-A, two of my acquaintances showed up for the free food as well. One of them called James my boyfriend. I corrected him. ... It got really awkward after that, and my acquaintances basically ran off to escape the awkwardness. Two days later.
It was so refreshing to have made a decision! I was so happy. Now all I had to do was get James out on a date, and somehow say, "Oy, let's get married, mmk?"
We eventually got my real ring.. here it is! It's a lab-created sapphire.
James went off to Oregon in September to start his Ph.D. program, and I stayed in Provo to finish my bachelor's degree of neuroscience. We talked on Skype every night. We finally got married in the Salt Lake temple on April 23, 2011. And that's the story!
Love and bubble wrap,
Jenna and James
_____
1 You know, this wasn't the first class we had together. We apparently both took a New Testament class from Dr. Huntsman in Fall 2008. I vaguely remember a loudmouth in that class named James. I think that was him... with decidedly less hair. I'm glad we didn't really notice each other though. Neither of us were ready for the other. ↩
2 We didn't do this on purpose, but it turns out our first date was exactly one year before our wedding. ↩
3 If James hadn't borrowed that car, I would probably be dead. If fact, both of us might be dead. The next time James drove his little scooter after our date, the rear wheel seized up. James was able to keep his balance and skid to a stop, so he lived... but if I had also been on the bike, we probably would have ended up smeared across the pavement as a lovely James and Jenna casserole. And then we wouldn't have gotten married. (Seriously, if he had asked me when we got to the next life, I would have been like, "Are you kidding me? It's your fault I'm dead! Go find some other lady to spend eternity with!") ↩
4 Robby is my ex-boyfriend turned good friend. We dated for two months and really liked each other, and then prayed about getting married... and sadly, it just didn't feel right, so we broke up. Robby found his future wife in a matter of weeks, and I was a tad depressed about not having found anyone yet... So, I cried a bit. And then I prayed to find my husband. Later that day, I danced with James for my final and he asked me on a date. Prayers answered? At the time, I didn't realize that this is how things happened, but that's what my journal says occurred. This the great thing about journals... you can see extra well how your prayers are answered! Cultural note: Among LDS single adults, it's pretty common to pray about getting married before actually getting engaged. And sometimes your answer is no. I figured that might seem odd to some of my non-LDS friends. ↩
5 So one of the reasons James had decided to go to school at BYU was to find a wife. Well, he had only a few more months left in Provo before moving to Eugene, Oregon to start his Ph.D. program in mathematics. He was understandably starting to get nervous about the whole thing. He started a fast to find a wife (the right wife) the night before we started dating. Coincidence? Possibly. ↩
6 James never calls his parents. And this was 1 am Mom's time. ↩
Now, for the loooong version, complete with lots of fascinating footnotes. You should probably go get some popcorn. Or whatever your traditional snack is.
James and I met1 in a dance class at BYU. For those of you who are familiar with the dance department there, it was Dance 380: Advanced Social Dance taught by Marci every Monday afternoon. That means we were learning fancy moves in foxtrot, rumba, West Coast swing, triple swing, and a few others. The class was set up so that we'd switch partners every five to ten minutes or so, which meant we got to dance with each other once or twice every class period.
I could never remember James' name for the life of every hamster on earth. That's okay, though, because James couldn't remember my name either. For some reason, though, the name Laura (his mother's name) kept coming to mind. The thing was, though, he knew my name wasn't Laura, so whenever it was our turn to dance together, he'd greet me like so: "Hi, not-Laura!"
The final exam would be on triple swing--the most animated, bouncy dance ever. I don't spontaneously bounce... like at all. In fact, I find it rather laborious to bounce as much as the triple swing requires.
Naturally, I wanted to do well on my final exam. I figured the best way to do that was to find a high-energy, bouncy, fun dance partner. I showed up to the final exam and scanned the room for somebody that fit that description. My eyes landed on James. He was rambunctiously and flamboyantly telling a story to a small group of our classmates. Ah, yes. He will most definitely do.
James accepted my request to dance with him, and we spent the time before our test practicing until we were tired of that. Then we sat down on the stage and started your typical get-to-know-you conversation. James decided my major (neuroscience) was nerdy enough so he asked me on a date for the following Saturday.
I accepted2. James borrowed his roommate's car3 and we went rock climbing. I was super nervous about this, as I'd never done it before and I'm scared of heights. Furthermore, I have never been in amazing shape and am generally nervous about physical activity in general. But to my pleasure, James was a fantastic, patient, and very reassuring teacher; so, although I had anticipated feeling humiliated after climbing, I only felt tired.
After climbing, we went to Jamba Juice for tasty noms and talked for quite a while. It got to be time to go, but I was having a good time and didn't want it to end, so I invited him to my place to watch Back to the Future. We did that, and then James really, really had to go because he was already late for work (he worked the night shift at a hotel).
On his way out the door, James said something along the lines of "Call me", to which I said I would. And, strangely, I found myself actually wanting to do something with him again... enough so that I was actually willing to call him. How unusual.
Before I got the chance to come up with an activity to do with him, James called me and invited me to play four square at his place. Lucky for him, four square is one of the few games I actually enjoy, so I drove myself over there and had a great time. Eventually, the four square game stopped and everyone went to FHE at a park. I decided to accompany James there.
We talked some more and ate lots of cookies while most of the other singles played soccer. I expressed my great love for tasty food. James, smooth as ever, jumped at the opportunity and offered to make me biscuits and gravy that coming Sunday. I was okay with that. After FHE, we went back to his apartment and talked until midnight. I made myself attractive in many ways, including my familiarity with the ultra-nerdy webcomic xkcd. I discovered that James had already Facebook stalked me; apparently all my photos told him that I was pretty cool. Like this one. (It was for a homework assignment, I promise!)
Six days ended up being too long to wait for another date; James called me and asked me out again for Saturday. While the original plan had been to fly kites, it turned out to be cold and rainy... so we went bowling (after trying to fly kites, because kites are fun).
After bowling, we headed to my place to watch Star Wars IV. I put in the DVD and pressed play, then sat on the couch... a few feet away from James. A few minutes later, I realized how awkward that was, but... it's not so subtle if you just get up and plop yourself down closer to the guy. What to do, what to do?
My phone rang. I got up to get it, talked for thirty seconds or so, hung up... and replaced myself on the couch, squarely in James' arms. He did not complain. We cuddled. James wrote in his journal that day,
"Oh frabjous day! Caloo! Calay! :D :D :) :) :)"The following morning I had a conversation with Robby4 about our dating lives. Robby was glad to hear that James and I were getting along. He asked if we were going to start dating. I pondered for a moment, then said, no, I can't do that because James will be moving to Oregon shortly5, and I have a whole year left before I graduate. I intensely disliked long-distance relationships. Fortunately for me, Robby had some good sense and told me that was a stupid reason not to date James. I admitted that Robby was right... and therefore resolved to begin dating James exclusively.
Later that day, James came over to make biscuits and gravy. It was super tasty. Then we watched Star Wars V. Nerds in the audience will be glad to hear that our first kiss was during the credits. A nerdworthy kiss, indeed. James wrote of this day,
"I really like her. Motivated, smart, pretty, nerdy, a great cuddler. It's probably way too early to be thinking about this, but I could see myself marrying her. We'll see how things work out."Next day. We went to FHE together. There was a teeny, tiny rocking horse there. I saw it, ran over with glee, and began riding it, with my knees bent up past my ears. ... All the people there looked at me like I was a crazy person. James LOVED it though, and this endeared me to him even more. Later he wrote in his journal,
"We talked about [...] how I like her more than she likes me, which understandably alarmed me. Though she went on to say that a lot of that was that she just goes slower than I do. [...] Worries me, because I am thoroughly twitterpated. I haven't noticed a single thing yet that makes me wish it were different. I hope I'm good enough for her. Hmm... I've never said that before... She is way up there, apparently, in my opinion. She's so cool. If she dropped me, I would be heartbroken already. I don't think it's just hormones either!"Now, most of the rest of the story is best told by James' journal. He becomes increasingly infatuated, as you can see from this entry from the next day.
"I've started pretty much constantly praying to be good enough for Jenna. With how fast I've gone, and how I know I like her more, it makes me really nervous. I really like her. [...] I mentioned the thing about how I haven't found anything bad yet. Didn't freak her out. She mentioned a few things that made me feel better. Like how her bosses noticed how much she was smiling. Oh, I really like this girl."Next day.
"I woke up this morning at 8 by a text message from Jenna, saying 'Good morning, wonderful!' Too early, but still a wonderful way to get woken up. Especially after being worried last night. [... He walks me home that day...] During the short walk home there was a brief lull in conversation and after it made me freak out. Gall, I'm so easily worried in a relationship. I just need to calm down. She really likes me, I really like her, and it'll all work out. But I just wish I weren't so needy! Oh well. At 10pm I got woken up to a text saying, "Gooooooood niiiiiiiiight!" What a wonderful girl."Next day.
"Again got up to the text. What a girl. [...] She said she might not go to work today because she wasn't feeling well, so during lunch I started out to visit her... But then found out she had gone to work, so I napped instead. [...] I bought two ice cream bars and went off to find Jenna's work. I found it, and she was really happy for the ice cream bar. I had offered to make chicken rice soup because she was sick, and she said she certainly wouldn't turn it down, so I [...] got the stuff for it. I got to her place just as she arrived. And I started cooking. And finished. It was quite yummy. Yay! [...] I really appreciate that girl. [...] She asked me what she was going to do when I left for Oregon. I said that by that point we would have it figured out one way or the other. Closest we've gotten to talking about marriage. I'm thinking I'll fast and pray about it shortly after I get back from Tunisia [he would be going there for a math conference in about a week or so]. Bwaaaaaaa!"Two days later...
"Bwaaaaa! I love that girl! [...] We went and hiked up the Y. Conversation was a bit sparse on the way up, but that was because she was too busy breathing. We stopped at every swtichback to let her rest. At the top and on the way down we had a really good conversation. One thing I asked her is what she would say if I proposed. Context: this is the same day [as in same number of days after first date] and activity my dad used [to propose to my mom]; so it was a funny, not serious, question. She told me what I expected which was essentially "Woah!! Slow down, boy!" ... Anyway, we also talked about how she wanted to serve a mission, but God told her not to. And mentioned how if she had been planning to go, she would have told me, "You're nice, but I'm going..." I drew an inference she might only have glanced at... Anyway, we went down, got all pretty, ate pie Tim had made, then went to Cliff and Ari's reception. It was really good... Because Jenna was there. Yay! We talked about helium and nitrogen and other fun stuff. After, we went to her place and talked and cuddled. Yay for her! I'm so gone. After I went home, I told my roomies the only thing holding me back is that if I proposed right now, she would say no due to speed. If things go as they are, I will propose most likely a week or two after I return from Tunisia. Bwaaaaaaa!"Next day. We'd been talking, when there was a lull in conversation. I looked over at James' face to see a dreamy, far-gone look in his eyes. After some experiences with a few other guys at BYU, I had come to recognize this look as the look that means a man wants to marry me. So I asked him what he was thinking. (I'm so mean.)
"At one point she asked me what I was thinking at an awkward point, but after many heart palpitations I told her, "I'm sad I have to wait so long to propose." She freaked out a little, but inside, where I couldn't see it. We talked about it a little. We'll see what happens. Here's for being open... Only sixteen days from our first date. Wow... Anyway, she left, but her car was gone... got towed... So we went to go pick it up. She said that was the most stressful part of the day, so I can't be doing that bad..."Next day.
"We went to her place and talked till midnight. About marriage, [...] parenting, trust, etc. It was a very deep, serious conversation. I really like her. She's such a good person. And she said I was too! [...] Yay! The only reasons she told me about maybe saying no was 1. It's been so short a time (OK, that'll decrease the longer she vacillates [sic]) 2. I'll be gone forever this fall/winter (OK, she knows it's not a good reason if it's right) 3. I move too much when we snuggle (Uh oh! This is dangerous!) I'm thinking I'll be ok for right now..."Next day. He's starting worrying. I'm starting to drift away.
"We talked, and she mentioned again that I like her more than she likes me. What I need to be is patient. Even if this is the right thing, I shouldn't expect her to decide so quickly, even if I want her to. I will pray for that."Next day.
"We snuggled for a long time, but then we read a conference talk together, which was really good. I hope to study with her almost everyday now. Today's marriage talk was about how she's not sure how much she likes me, because I'm like pears and pineapples to Robby, the last guy she thought about marrying. Oh, my poor worrying heart!"He's such a drama king. Two days later.
"Jenna and I went to Nicolatalia's for pizza. Meat lovers. So good, soooo greasy. Then we watched Spirited Away. She told me she was leaning towards "No" just before I left, and it has been freaking me out for the last day. I really like her, and I think I would like to marry her. I've prayed about it, and when I do I get a warm feeling, but the last few times my head has been fuzzy. I'm going to fast about it when I get back. I really, really like her."Two days later. I broke up with James. I'd been praying about it and was getting a "Well, if you want to, go for it." And at that point, I didn't want to, so my answer to James was "No." Apparently I did not clearly explain this to James, because he thought I said that God said no. Ooops.
"We watched YouTube videos for a while, then it came up. She feels she got a "no" from God. At first I just thought she wasn't sure and so maybe back off. Then she clarified. I was (am) so confused. I thought I had been getting a yes! It's painful on both sides. I prayed in her bathroom and I'm ok with it now... But if she felt justified in coming back, I would be happy for the chance to ask God again. Sigh. We still really like each other, maybe even love... but God has (99%) spoken. Sigh... Not the answer I wanted. I talked to Mom6 on my way to work, then worked... And was depressed. I curled up on the floor at one point."So after James left my apartment that night, I went into my bathroom to grab some tissues to dry my eyes with. Turns out that my bathroom window was open, and James was outside on the phone with his mom... so I could hear every word. I eavesdropped on the entire conversation until he biked off to work for the night. It made me even sadder, but I figured breaking up with him now was better than leading him on for a few months... right?
And then James flew to London. Excerpts from James' trip to London and Tunisia:
"I really miss Jenna. And what's worse is that even if I were home, I wouldn't get to be with her... She's been on my mind all the time. I wish she would reverse her decision, but only if God allowed it. I'm not quite stupid enough to disregard His advice, however much it may suck. A lot... Sigh..." "I went on an hour long walk/sit on the beach [in Tunisia in the middle of the night] to think about Jenna and such. Sigh... No real conclusions. [Essentially, he sat and cried on the Mediterranean beach.]"James came home to Provo. About a month later we went to the Malt Shoppe with the Social Dance Club. Now this was pretty awkward because it was really only the hard-core club members... and us two awkward love-birds. I think they probably thought it was the beginning of a relationship and not a post-break up one.
"I just got back from seeing Jenna for the first time since we broke up. I've talked to her via texting or G-chat since then, but this is the first face-to-face. And my reaction was still, I have to find someone that fits me better than her? Sigh. It was really nice to see her, but I'm a bit jealous of the fact that she's going on a date this weekend. Despite the fact I told her I was going on one too. I thought I was mostly over her, but this made it clear I am definitely not. She's so great and cool. But now untouchable. I wish I could spend so much time with her. But this is idle wishing. But, dang it, I want to fight for her, but I can't. The only way I could justify it is if God told me to. But that might be kind of hard. But I should ask. Sigh."Poor James. A week later.
"My mom sent me an email in response to mine about last Tuesday saying if I so feel inspired, I should go for Jenna in a particular way. Interesting... [...] I need to fast and pray about it."A few days later.
"I had a text conversation with Jenna and I invited myself over to color with her tomorrow. Sweet!"He likes me so much, he even notes every time I text him in his journal! Ay caramba! Next day.
"I went to Jenna's to color. It was way fun... then some other guys were gonna come over, and it was fun, just less so. Oh well."These others boys were my pseudo-brother Clifton and one of Clifton's mission companions. James was a little jealous of them; I could tell. After James left, the other two looked at me and burst into laughter. "What?" I demanded. "He likes you. A lot, a lot." Oh... I felt a little bad about that. I mean, I wanted to be friends, but was I leading him on? A few days later.
"It happened that Jenna texted me when I was free. She talked about bubbles she had. I tried to get her to invite me over, but I had to invite myself. She was happy for it, as she told me later. I was there for two hours... till midnight. What to say about it? It was great fun, she called me cute during a pillow fight, and I got incredibly sick to my stomach when she talked about another boy [...] that she would marry if he asked. She said that that is why she felt weird today, but during our G-chat conversation later she revealed that it was also because she missed me. Sigh... Argh! As I just told my roomie Bryan, I can't see myself having stronger feelings about anyone else. If this isn't the kind of love you get married for, what is??? The thought of her marrying someone else just makes me so sick to my stomach. Anyway, there's a lot more I could write about, but I won't."Next day, I was considering coming to James' dance class, since there were more men than women. Regarding this possibility, James wrote:
"Cool, but also... Well, to have her around me that often... Will I ever get her out of my head? My current plan is to fast and pray during the ward temple trip next Wednesday to ask God in the temple for the first time. With [a previous girlfriend James was considering marrying], I felt conflicted till I did the same. All day I've been pondering whether or not I am sure that marrying her would be OK, so I can bring God a decision. I still can't think what would be bad, but I'm trying. I know not perfect things about her (her health, for example), but I'm not worried about those at all. Oh... What to do, what to do... Bleh. The thing I most worry about is how she had said before I like her more than she likes me. Why? What am I that she doesn't like? I may or may not be willing/able to change it, but it'd be nice to know. Maybe she just doesn't know. Also, should I rush it? Probably not. Maybe I should just build up a really strong friendship for a month first. Seems like a good idea. Good no matter how God answers."I went to James' dance class once. And it felt so good to be in his arms, waltzing... Too good. So I stopped coming. Next day.
"To Jenna's. We watched Ponyo, then talked. Eventually the whole breaking up/marriage thing came up. I brought up how Rebekah felt [Jenna] hadn't made a decision then prayed, Jenna replied that she had. (Ouch.) But apparently since that day her vague "no" answer was clarified to that it would have been fine if she had wanted to. So we talked about it, and we'll be each other's back ups. I.e. We'll see where we are in a year, and see again. It was about as good as I could expect, and I finally feel peace with everything. This seems right to me in the way a straight "no" didn't. All our assorted feelings/answers/inspirations fit right now. [...] She mentioned she had nowhere to go when she graduated (unless she was married) and Oregon sounded better than her home in Arizona. Interesting..."I am feeling a bit conflicted. I want to be friends, but really, I'm just starting to like him more... Over a week later, James writes:
"Was talking to Jenna about how today is Cow Appreciation Day. I had to invite myself, but we dressed up as cows and then she drove [us] up to Chick-Fil-A to get a free meal. Yum! We then went shopping, and I bought her stuff because she's broke. I napped on her couch till work time."
I wonder what it was he bought me. I forgot. Anyway, while we were eating our Chick-Fil-A, two of my acquaintances showed up for the free food as well. One of them called James my boyfriend. I corrected him. ... It got really awkward after that, and my acquaintances basically ran off to escape the awkwardness. Two days later.
"Went to Jenna's for lemonade ice cream. It was pretty good! We went shopping, talked about her possible abandonment of med school for marriage/kids. Tough choice, though she knows what she wants right now. I helped get ready for dinner group, stayed for a piece of it, then came home and went to the Bishop's for FHE. [...] It's kind of sad on my part, but despite Jenna having told me she's wanted to marry others more than me (it came up, it wasn't to get me to back off), I still want to hang out a lot and talk while I'm in Oregon and so on the off chance she'll change her mind in the future. I like her a lot, but I don't know how wise this is, because if she started dating someone, or, worse, decided to marry someone, I would be devastated. Horribly so, I think. Though I would be happy that she's happy. Should I try to get over her? Because I just don't care about getting to know other people well because I'm thinking of her in comparison. It's not fair because I don't know them well, but still... Maybe this is the question I need to ask in the temple. Should I start trying to get over her? I think I could if I needed to. If I had to."A few days later.
"Went to Jenna's to watch Wall-E with some others. Good fun. With some flirtatious tom-foolery. Sigh... Which was not really flirtatious because it was Jenna doing it. I just wanted to hold her. Probably not healthy. What are the chances she'll make it till next April single? Not that good in my mind... Sigh..."I was feeling conflicted, because I still liked James... as well as a few other boys, whom I liked just as much. A few days later.
"Texted Jenna to invite her to play with bubble wrap with me tomorrow right after 5. She said yes... And right after I remembered I'm supposed to practice dance... Sigh... So I had to text her back to change it to Thursday. Sooooo embarrassing."Two days later. He'd gotten me a birthday present, but then I broke up with him, so it didn't get delivered. He finally decided to give it to me about two months late. I loved it. I loved it a lot. I remember thinking, "Wow. No one else has ever gotten me a gift that shows they know me so well!"
"Got Jenna's old birthday present, then went to her place. She liked the iced Animal Crackers, absolutely adores the plushie gryphon, and we had great fun popping the bubble wrap. We sang some hymns, talked, etc. She was more touchy today, but I'm (unfortunately) sure it means nothing. But it is hard on me, though I enjoy it. Sigh..."A few days later.
"To Jenna's for a movie. After I left her place, I sent her a text asking if she wanted to go for a walk. She wasn't tired, so we did. Oh yeah, important background. I did pull her in during the movie, but she totally let me. So I got to hold her. Anyway. We talked from 12:30am to 5am... Wow. And since it was so late, we were quite candid with each other. We talked about our feelings, [other boys Jenna liked and was considering pursuing], and the possibility of a future marriage. She is, as expected going to go for [the others] first. But, if she happens to not choose them, or them her, she will likely move to Oregon to marry me. [...] It's weird to me, and more so to her, but I'm willing to play second fiddle if I have to to get her. Even more so now (the next night) it makes me feel weird and nervous just thinking about it, but I think it is perfectly all right for me to do. She's just such an amazing awesome girl. I'm keeping my eyes open, of course, but the likelihood I find someone better in the next year is quite small. We also talked about "cookies", things that aren't bad, but are probably bad for you, like us snuggling tonight... It's sad, but true. But now we have a new inside joke! Yay! Our goodbye hug was certainly a cookie. Long and not completely platonic. I love that girl."After this conversation, I finally realized I needed to make a decision. I was so, so, sooo conflicted. I even got a blessing from my pseudo-brother to help me calm down and decide. A day or two later while I was at work, I started to think about it in a different light. I graphed the intensity of how much I liked a boy over time, and I saw then that the line which represented how much I liked James had the highest slope. I extrapolated and decided that meant I'd be happiest if I married him instead of one of the others.
It was so refreshing to have made a decision! I was so happy. Now all I had to do was get James out on a date, and somehow say, "Oy, let's get married, mmk?"
"Jenna texted me, so I asked if she wanted to get dinner, so off we went to get pizza. It was pretty good. Nice conversation. We came back to her place, and eventually she brought up.... Well, she asked, "What would we do if we got married?" So... I talked about holidays, wedding next summer, etc. After a break, she leaned against me in a non-platonic manner. We just sat, then I expressed my undying devotion, via saying she's the best girl I ever met. She then put down her plan. She's going to the temple on Saturday, and unless she gets a firm no, we're gonna get married!!!!! BWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Soooooooooo awesome (and unexpected)! At best I had dreamed she would move up next year. But this? Amazing!! We talked some more, then went to social dance. We came back and she called her parents. Craziness. She then called her friend Lisa, who doesn't so much like me, so I went, so Lisa could be open. I then shared the news with my roomies and Rebekah. BWAAAA!"Two days later.
"I borrowed Bryan's car and went to Walmart to pick up the fake engagement ring. It took me an hour almost to get out of there, just because I was freaking out that I was actually doing it. Bwaaaa! [...] I prayed about marrying Jenna. I feel really good about it. I was grinning my face off for the next half hour. Jenna was off doing something, so I played New Super Mario Bros on Tommy's new Wii."Next day. I went to the temple to confirm my decision with God. I prayed about it, and said, "Look. If You don't tell me it's a horrible idea, I'm going to marry this guy." I got a warm, fuzzy feeling. Well, that's it then. Let's make this thing official!
"Jenna came to work and we were excited together. The rest of work was hard. I eventually came home and planned on sleeping till noon, but got up by 10:30am. I just couldn't sleep. Worse than Christmas. Fifteen minutes before Jenna was supposed to call me, I biked to the flower store. She called and said it was all good!! So... I bought a dozen roses and another bouquet and biked over. It took long enough to get the flowers that she was freaking out, waiting by the door. I kneeled with the ring and flowers and asked, "Jenna, will you marry me?" "Yes!" Bweeee! So... we hugged and kissed and so on for a while, then called people. Lots of people. Also some nappage went on. We then went out for our celebratory dinner to... KFC! Yay! After, we watched Time Bandits (so weird...) we then went to swing. Becca freaked out, as expected. Yay!"
We eventually got my real ring.. here it is! It's a lab-created sapphire.
James went off to Oregon in September to start his Ph.D. program, and I stayed in Provo to finish my bachelor's degree of neuroscience. We talked on Skype every night. We finally got married in the Salt Lake temple on April 23, 2011. And that's the story!
Love and bubble wrap,
Jenna and James
_____
1 You know, this wasn't the first class we had together. We apparently both took a New Testament class from Dr. Huntsman in Fall 2008. I vaguely remember a loudmouth in that class named James. I think that was him... with decidedly less hair. I'm glad we didn't really notice each other though. Neither of us were ready for the other. ↩
2 We didn't do this on purpose, but it turns out our first date was exactly one year before our wedding. ↩
3 If James hadn't borrowed that car, I would probably be dead. If fact, both of us might be dead. The next time James drove his little scooter after our date, the rear wheel seized up. James was able to keep his balance and skid to a stop, so he lived... but if I had also been on the bike, we probably would have ended up smeared across the pavement as a lovely James and Jenna casserole. And then we wouldn't have gotten married. (Seriously, if he had asked me when we got to the next life, I would have been like, "Are you kidding me? It's your fault I'm dead! Go find some other lady to spend eternity with!") ↩
4 Robby is my ex-boyfriend turned good friend. We dated for two months and really liked each other, and then prayed about getting married... and sadly, it just didn't feel right, so we broke up. Robby found his future wife in a matter of weeks, and I was a tad depressed about not having found anyone yet... So, I cried a bit. And then I prayed to find my husband. Later that day, I danced with James for my final and he asked me on a date. Prayers answered? At the time, I didn't realize that this is how things happened, but that's what my journal says occurred. This the great thing about journals... you can see extra well how your prayers are answered! Cultural note: Among LDS single adults, it's pretty common to pray about getting married before actually getting engaged. And sometimes your answer is no. I figured that might seem odd to some of my non-LDS friends. ↩
5 So one of the reasons James had decided to go to school at BYU was to find a wife. Well, he had only a few more months left in Provo before moving to Eugene, Oregon to start his Ph.D. program in mathematics. He was understandably starting to get nervous about the whole thing. He started a fast to find a wife (the right wife) the night before we started dating. Coincidence? Possibly. ↩
6 James never calls his parents. And this was 1 am Mom's time. ↩
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