Mid-trip update.

So we've been here at Essie's Grandma's place now for over a week and it's been so incredibly awesome for me to see the two of them getting so much quality time together. I think there's nothing in the world my mom loves so much as a tiny, sweet baby and if that baby is in the slightest distress she's ON IT.

Like, the other day my mom had had insomnia the night before and hadn't slept a wink. She went off to bed, but got up when she heard Essie crying in the living room with me, took her from me and walked her around until she was soothed and sleepy again. Then gave her back to me and went to bed! That's love.

Essie's been more cranky than usual the last few days because she has thrush and the medicine for it is making her feel sick. The med info says it can cause diarrhea, intestinal discomfort, stomach pain and nausea. Poor little bug. She hasn't been freaking out but she's definitely been more serious when awake and seeming more uncomfortable overall. When Essie cries you know she's in actual discomfort, not just complaining for complaining's sake. She doesn't cry much at all, this kid, so hearing it at all is startling and worrying.

Hopefully the thrush will be all cleared up soon and she'll be back to her normal, mellow self. Other than that excitement we've pretty much just been chilling out and hanging with my mom. She's bought Ess a bunch of cute clothes, of course, and we finally managed to find a couple of sunhats after discovering they're strangely difficult to find during the actual summer season. Here are some pics from the last week:


Crashed out on the sofa on a pretty brutally hot day. Just a diaper was sufficient for clothes!



After her hot nap, cooling off by a window on Grandma's lap.



Getting some morning cuddles on Grandma's shoulder.



Leaving WalMart, the only store in which we could find any sunhats for newborns. Essie's rocking it.

Essie is more of a mellow yellow kid.

I can't stop kissing her. It's mostly her cheeks. She has the most pokeable, kissable, pinchable cheeks ever and when she's awake and interactive I just HAVE to kiss them. This, of course, guarantees that her first words will not be anything like 'boo' or 'gee' or 'dada' but will instead be, "If you do not stop invading my personal space I am moving in with GRANDMA."

Sucks to be you, kid. She'll kiss you too. Plus take you to Sunday School.

But O, how I love this baby. Her Aunt Jenny is in town this week and we went to Fresh to have dinner with her last night. Jenny commented that Essie is a pretty chill, calm baby and she really is (for the most part.) Of course she had a bit of an out-of-character cranky period after we got home but that's OK. Her cranky periods are so few and far between that we just count our blessings every day and make the most of what could very well be a temporary state. For the other 22 hours of the day she is so fun and funny and charming. And chubby.

I read in someone's blog a few years back (and I don't recall which blogger it was although I know it was one of the upper echelon of 'mommybloggers') that they would totally stalk their baby on MySpace. I laughed at the time because it's funny, but OH MY HECK it's true. Andrew and I have been trading off every other night of taking the 'Essie shift' where one of us is responsible for waking up and taking care of feeding and diapers when she needs it. The thing is that when I'm in bed and I wake up and hear her making some kind of noise out in the living room with Andrew it takes everything in me to just stay in bed and go back to sleep. I want to go to her, I want to hold her in my arms and snuggle her close and kiss her head and nuzzle her neck. She's so freaking nice and lovely and I enjoy her so much.

I want to describe to you so badly what the things are that fire me up so much with love for her. The problem is that it all sounds kind of crazy or too commonplace. Like how she drinks her bottle. The way she puts her hands on the sides of it and makes a little 'nyuck nyuck' noise when she swallows and how she keeps her eyes on mine. Then she stops drinking and sighs and takes a little rest (never letting go of the nipple, mind you) then digs right back in.

See? I just described a baby drinking a bottle. But ... but it's ESSIE drinking it, see, and she's ESSIE and ... and ... argh. I can't make it work with words.

I joke that she's the best baby ever and there will never be a better baby, but at the same time I feel very strongly that I want to raise her with the most realistic expectations possible. I don't want her to be saddled with the idea that she's a special, special flower and a total genius and a cut above most other kids. I don't buy into this Indigo Kid bullshit which is where a lot of that 'You're the greatest and other people just don't understand you!' stuff leads. Here's a freaking awesome quote from the Wikipedia:

Skeptics suggest that the indigo phenomenon is due to parents preferring to believe their children are special, rather than having a medical diagnosis which implies damage or imperfection. Also criticized are the traits used to describe children, which have been compared to the Forer effect - so vague as to be able to apply to anyone.

Yeah. Pfft. BUT: I want Essie to be who she is. I want her to go to school and play with other kids and learn what she learns and be good at some things and not so good at others. I want her to gravitate toward the things she's interested in and help her pursue the things she's most passionate about. I don't want her to feel any pressure to always be better than the rest and the smartest and the one that stands out most. I just want her to be happy to do her personal best and understand that that is what's most important.

Wait, wait!

Descriptions of indigo children include the belief that they are empathetic, curious, possess a clear sense of self-definition and purpose, strong-willed, independent and unconventional. Indigo children have also been described as having a strong feeling of entitlement, or "deserving to be here." Other alleged traits include a high intelligence quotient, intuitive, resistance to authority, disruptive, impatient and easily bored. According to Tober and Carroll, indigo children function poorly in conventional schools due to their rejection of authority, being smarter than their teachers and a lack of response to guilt-, fear- or manipulation-based discipline.

HAhahahahahaha! So ... basically they're assholes? Got it.

Out and about.

Essie attended her first concert last week. Our friend Michele Jacot puts on an annual show called Commingle and this was the third one, actually called Commmingle Three (and that is not a typo.) The last two years I showed some pieces and last year had a piece up for auction but this year there was less art, more singing and performing. There was a silent auction and the whole thing was a benefit for the Cystic Fibrosis foundation.

I love Commingle because lots of people we know perform (mainly Michele herself, being an insanely talented professional classical musician). One of the highlights of the show for me, though, is Cadence. I'm pretty much a squee-squee Cadence fangirl. A capella singing, four tenors, excellent showmen ... dang. It just makes me so happy!

I was a bit leery about taking Essie to the show. I'm not the type of parent who thinks that my baby should be welcome at any function, no matter what. There are some things that just aren't baby-appropriate. Like movies. I wouldn't dream of taking Essie to a movie theatre, believe me. I know there are movie nights for parents specifically so that they can see movies while also bringing the kids, but not in general. So I was worried that the night of Commingle would be the night that Essie decided she wasn't going to be an easygoing baby and wouldn't sleep through all kinds of noise.

I was relieved that Maysie and Dan showed up (which I had no idea they were going to) and took the table beside ours. Then the table on the other side of us only had one guy and he left and sat somewhere else (or left altogether, I'm not sure; he was the representative for the CF Foundation and took off after his speech) before Essie even made a peep. So we were buffered a bit, and quite honestly Essie was pretty great. If she started to make any noise I offered her a bottle or her soother and she quieted down every time. I was poised to dash out of there with her, though, so that she wouldn't interrupt anything or take away from anyone's enjoyment. Maysie and Dan left during the first intermission and Candice and Rich came up and sat in their places so we still had people we knew beside us, at least!

So, I don't know that I'll be taking her to many more events like that, if any. It's stressful for me as her mom to worry about it and I really do feel that if you have a kid you just have to accept you can't take them to certain events that you would have attended before sprogging. If Michele hadn't explicitly told me she wanted us to come and bring Essie I might have sat it out at home. Thankfully it all went really well, but she's only going to get crankier and more opinionated as she grows and I'm not going to take it for granted that she'll behave appropriately at public events like concerts and shows.

Good, healthy baby.

Essie had a pediatrician's appointment on Monday. I don't mind taking her to them because it's always nice to have verification that she's continuing to do well, but I was getting a little irritated about hearing that the fact that my daughter was gaining weight quickly was undesirable. I was not looking forward to hearing about it again.

Thankfully this time the pediatrician had nothing but good things to say! Essie weighed eight pounds, four ounces (up from seven pounds, fourteen ounces at the last visit two weeks ago) but there was no finger shaking this time. The doctor just praised her health and said that no one would guess she was a preemie if they didn't know what had happened. She also said that I was doing a good job as a mom, which was pretty nice to hear, you know, coming from a doctor.

I'm so used to how Essie is that I sometimes get confused on whether she's ahead in certain things. There was a five-day-old baby in the waiting room while we were there and her grandma commented that Essie must be close to the same age. Essie was asleep at the time so they didn't see what she's like when she's awake, but she's certainly more alert and focused than that newborn was. She already tracks things with her eyes (in a limited way) and just overall seems more engaged and aware. This baby was all limp and foggy and even though it was adorable, Essie seems more 'human' to me.

Of course she's had lots more time to practice being a tiny person out in the big world so it shouldn't surprise me, but it does kind of confuse me from time to time. I have also still been trying to settle on a good answer for when strangers ask me how old she is without having to go into the really long explanation. I'm going to start just saying her actual age and leaving it at that. Some people will realize she's pretty tiny for her age, and some people won't know the difference. I won't offer more info unless they ask specifically.

It's not that I don't want to talk to people about it or her. It's just that lots of people ask, and if I told the whole story every time I'd get pretty tired of it. In the waiting room at the pediatrician's office is OK since we're all there for the same reason and have babies in common, but on the bus or in line at Shopper's Drug Mart ... not so much.

Dummy dumb dumb.

You know how sometimes you say something and it doesn't occur to you until much, much later that you were highly inappropriate or insulting or both?

No? Just me?

Damn.

Sigh. It happened to me last night. We went to May and Dan's 10th anniversary party. I was excited to go since I knew there'd be a number of friends in attendance who hadn't yet met Essie, plus getting out of the house for such a fun reason is pretty sweet. One of the highlights of the parties that Maysie and Dan throw is that I always meet someone interesting and new at them and last night I got to meet a couple of people like that. One was a cool woman who was there with her husband and 9 month-old son and we chatted a lot about breastfeeding (which is on my mind a lot these days.)

The other woman is someone who went to high school with Andrew and Dan. She is nine months pregnant (and I think she even said that yesterday was her due date) and looked awesome. Glowing and energetic and lovely. I ended up having a great chat with her toward the end of the night and talking to her about my experience with pre-eclampsia and Women's College Hospital. At one point I mentioned that I was quite satisfied with having had a c-section and that given the choice I'd likely opt for a c-section again.

She was all, oh really? And so I proceeded to say that yes, I would, but that my experience might have been easier since they weren't pulling a full-term baby out of the hole in my abdomen and so I might have recovered faster. Then I went on to say that while I was in recovery I lay there listening to the screams and shrieks of other women going through natural childbirth and that I couldn't imagine what kind of pain they'd be feeling since nothing I experienced was anywhere near the level of pain that would cause me to scream.

She got a kind of bemused look on her face, but NOTHING registered to me at that moment that I was saying something awful to a woman who is about to give birth in the next week or so. I just blathered on about how glad I was that I didn't have to feel horrific pain and that I was thankful I hadn't been in such agony.

Oh, I am so dumb. This poor woman. I know that in the months that I was pregnant I went to great lengths to either not think about labour or convince myself that really, it wouldn't be so bad. That all the stories I'd heard were exaggerations, likely, and that women make it sound worse than it is. I was basically scared out of my mind and who knows how I'd have felt if I'd carried Essie full-term. At nine months I'd have likely been in weak-kneed terror and if some dumb bint had stood there talking about the horrors of childbirth I might well have punched her in the snout.

I would totally have deserved a snout-punching. I am so, so dumb.

One month, baby.

Essie's been home with us for a month as of today! It's so strange. On the one hand I can't believe she hasn't always been here with us, but on the other hand it feels like just yesterday we brought her through the apartment doors for the first time.

I don't miss going to the hospital every day. I don't miss the feeling of having her care be something I had no say in. I don't miss feeling like it was a special occasion when I could hold her or do regular, every-day things like change her diaper or bathe her.

I DO miss having medical professionals around all the time to let me know when things are OK. Not that it often happens that I think I need an immediate answer or that she seems sick or anything. It was just a luxury, is all. I also miss free diapers. That was nice.

It's been a strange transition. Very different from bringing home a newborn directly after giving birth, I am certain. She wasn't 'new' in the same way, and was already pretty stoic about a lot of things. We'd had the opportunity to get to know a lot of her quirks already and had some practice when it came to many aspects of her care. I wanted very much to get her used to lots of human contact and love and I've been very successful in that regard, if success means she never wants to be put down now! I joke, but I also like it. I certainly don't get tired of holding her and snuggling her!

I am kind of reluctantly trying to ease her into sleeping on her own, though. Not at night (or whenever I end up getting the bulk of my sleep, anyhow) but during the day when I should be able to put her down and get some things done. She doesn't always want to be in the sling, so I can't depend on it for her sleep times. She definitely knows the difference between being held and simply being set down in warm, cozy blankets and she'll protest.

Anyhow; in the month that she's been home with us she's already gone on two road trips, attended a comic arts festival, ridden the bus and subway and met a bunch of family on both sides. She's outgrown all of her preemie clothes and is quickly starting to work through her newborn stuff as well, fitting better and better into the 0 - 3 months sized stuff instead. She's out of preemie diapers and well into the newborn size, with the Pampers brand newborn size getting a bit tight. She likes having baths (or at least doesn't seem to hate them), loves having her tiny bit of hair brushed and has decided that she's too big for swaddling. Swaddling is for preemie chumps, not grown-up full-term babies like herself.

She'll allow the modified arms-free swaddle but ... come on. That's a toga.