Gosh, I haven't been writing on here as frequently as I used to. And double gosh, I may be taking a months-long hiatus when we move to Berkeley and live largely Internet-less. I guess that could be okay. One of the biggest purposes of my blog is to soothe myself through write-it-out therapy. I haven't needed it as much since Amelia's sudden improvement after visiting the chiropractor at six months.
But today... Today I need it. I am more harried than usual. I suppose then, that the following will all sound rather pessimistic and melodramatic. Please keep in mind that this is a skewed version of reality and that Amelia is mostly sunshine and giggles.
Amelia, I believe, is kind of in between the baby and toddler stages. I think they call it the "older baby" stage. Yes, she's mobile. Horizontally, vertically, diagonally, diurnally, nocturnally, you name it and chances are... she is indeed mobile in the manner of that adverb. The stairs are kind of a scary place for me. If I set her down, she makes a beeline for them. I sometimes feel as if she's trying to become stairmaster within the week or something. Stair fetishes are scary things.
I'm grateful that she isn't walking yet... I have a nasty feeling that she'll get speedier once she can actually run anywhere she wants to. Oh, and not to mention that she'll be able to get into more things. Doom.
The little lady is insatiably curious. She loves water, which is also a tad scary. Another thing she makes a beeline for... the toilet. I am glad we have a toilet lock, as annoying as it is. I am dreading the day she figures it out, for then I'd have to worry about her possibly playing in it, drowning in it, splashing its unsanitary water all over the bathroom, flushing valuables down it, etc.
Ay caramba.
Oh, and yes, we are still doing that elimination communication thing. With mobility, though, came a newfound desire to NOT sit on the potty for longer than is absolutely necessary, because that is BOR-ING! So... yeah. She's in a "I'm way too busy to sit on a potty. I'd rather pee while exploring the house!" phase. It's mildly frustrating when I know the little vixen needs to release a turd, but she won't sit on the pot. And then it gets even more scream-inducing when she does poo in her diaper... and by the time we notice that she's soiled herself and change the offending diaper, her bum is already bleeding from poo exposure. And, gosh, is it difficult to get all the fecal matter out of all the nooks and crannies of a wriggly, writhing female baby... bleeding bum or no bleeding bum. Diapering a mobile baby is quite the adventure.
Amelia eats everything. She can handle pretty much anything we're willing to give her. Recent favorites include air-popped popcorn, strawberries, pineapple, bread, pizza, chicken nuggets, and... well, ANYTHING that we happen to be eating. Sometimes I just don't see the point of giving her "her own" portion, because she won't eat what we give her. She much prefers to steal our portions.
The baby lady is absolutely convinced that if she sleeps, she will miss out on all the wonders of the world. So, of course, she resists falling asleep no matter how tired she is. It is a rare occasion when she falls asleep without lots of help. And help usually means that I nurse her for five to sixty minutes. (Ugh. The sixty minutes gets a little laborious. And then it gets frustrating when it takes sixty minutes to get her to sleep... and then she only sleeps for a grand total of twenty minutes. Gross.) Sure, I admit it could be possible that we are encouraging a bad habit here, but SHE WILL NOT GO TO SLEEP ANY OTHER WAY, so it's not like we presently have much of a choice if we want any semblance of rest and sanity in our house.
We had made some progress getting Amelia to fall asleep without the breast... but she got sick a few weeks ago, and all that progress went out the window. She was miserable. And then she got so plugged up in her nasal passages that it was impossible to breathe while nursing... which lead to her first ever nursing strike! Doom!
And remember now that she doesn't go to sleep without nursing. But now she couldn't/ wouldn't nurse, and so... the miserable, sick, starving baby would not sleep and was SUPER DUPER GRUMPY.
I suppose if I had been better rested (i.e. not dealing with a miserable, sick, starving baby who would not sleep and was super duper grumpy), I would have been wise and thought, "Oh, I should take special care not to get engorged. It would be bad if I got a plugged duct. Or mastitis."
Buuuut. I was NOT well rested, and I was actually also sick with the same illness that had Amelia under the weather, so I did not think this thought. Thus, disaster struck.
I went to bed feeling like the symptoms of my respiratory viral illness were finally fading (hallelujah!), and I remember thinking these words: Gosh, tomorrow I'm going to feel fabulous, I can tell.
...
Well, no. I did not feel fabulous. Definitely not. I woke up about two hours after drifting off to sleep imagining how fabulous I'd feel upon waking... FREEZING. I was convinced that it must have been like fifty degrees in that room. And cuddling with mini-space-heater (a.k.a. Amelia) was not warming me up sufficiently. I was so cold, in fact, that my teeth were chattering uncontrollably... and also, my whole body was seizing and shivering... and I was just flat-out miserably cold. Doom.
So, I cuddle up with James. Also, I chatter my teeth loudly in his ear.
This grumpifies him. Also, he icily informs me that it is NOT cold in the room and I should take my temperature. It was difficult to do so, as I was shivering and chattering so badly, but I did manage to find that my temperature was nearly 103°F.
Anyway, I somehow made it through the night. Mostly with the help of my martyr of a husband who sacrificed being not-too-hot and let me cuddle him until my hypothalamus finally determined I was hot enough to kill demons and I stopped shivering uncontrollably.
It was mastitis. I was pretty sure it was, because when I woke up with that fever, I also had a plugged duct that magically appeared out of nowhere. So, besides all the usual advice you get to treat mastitis (which I followed), I also had to see the midwife to get antibiotics... Apparently one of the indications that antibiotics might be appropriate is if the symptoms come on severely and suddenly, and that certainly seemed to be the case for me.
Anyway, Amelia STILL refused to nurse, so I had to fish out my breast pump. And we had to syringe the pumped milk into her face in order to quell her starving and exhausted screams. I kept trying to offer her the breast, but all she would do is bite me. Hard. (Ouch!) And then scream even more when I wouldn't put her back on the breast for a replay of said piranha action. So yeah. We didn't nurse for a couple days until her nose deplugged.
It sucked. (Oh ha, pun! I didn't even do that on purpose.)
And I was exhausted and under the weather for another few weeks, and Amelia hasn't gotten into a happy sleep routine since then, and seriously... the child is probably sleep-deprived, but I CAN'T get the kid to sleep for very long. The world is too darned interesting.
We've also found it difficult to get her to sleep at night. Instead of falling asleep once the lights are out, instead she will crawl all over and inspect stuff and giggle and scream loudly, and pound on the wall that separates our bedroom from the jumpy neighbor's bedroom. (Doom.)
Despite the lack of sleep... Amelia seems as happy as ever. She's grinning from ear to ear most of the time. She giggles a lot. She laughs heartily: "HAR HAR HAR! HOO HOO HAA!" She giggles some more. And she says, "Giggle-giggle-gogle-giggle-gogle-gogle-gogle!" Just like that. She squeals in delight when people (familiar or stranger) talk to her and smile at her. Happy baby.
Ay caramba... so tired.
Love and giggle-giggle-gogle-giggle-gogle-gogle-gogle,
Jenna and Amelia
