Frozen Assets

What's that smell... Guilt?

Something very strange happened yesterday at Axel's daycare...

He refused to drink two bottles of breast milk.

Axel. My Axel. My 26-pound cherubic boy refused to drink the milk I laboriously pumped for him. I'm sure I'm not the first mom to feel hurt and offended when her baby refuses her milk. And I'm perfectly capable of making myself feel bad - did I eat something funny that day? Did the milk turn a little sour because I froze it more than 24 hours after pumping it? Is my son mad at me for leaving him at daycare?

See - I'm chock full of maternal guilt. No need for anybody to help out there, so you can imagine how I felt when the daycare lady said "Maybe he doesn't want his mother's milk! He doesn't like the taste of it!" She turned to the other daycare lady and said "Remember that other boy - he stopped liking his mother's milk too! Yeah, Axel doesn't want his mother's milk."

Yeah, thanks. He didn't seem to complain when he was latched onto my boob for the better part of the previous night! This is the boy who slurps happily away, stopping on occasion to give me a big milky grin, or to look around the room before diving back in.  He loves my milk. Perhaps he just didn't like who was giving it to him with the bottle! You can tell me my son doesn't like peaches, green beans or squash - but don't tell me he doesn't like my milk. It's not your place.

I tried to give him the bottle - he wouldn't take it. I'm actually fairly certain that the main reason for this is the fact that the milk was frozen late - we had to skip out on daycare on Friday because the husband's car died and he took mine. I read over at Kateri's that excess lipase can make milk taste funny quickly - I suspect this is the case with mine, because when I tasted it (don't get grossed out - you've tasted your own sweat I'm sure - this is similar to that but tastes way better) it was a little off.

But when I picked him up, I also noticed a smell. A very heady perfume - almost musky, and certainly nauseating. I'd have a hard time eating if that scent were all over me. In fact, when I got him home I quickly stripped off his sweatshirt and pulled off my sweater just to avoid the stink. I assume it was the daycare lady's perfume - maybe she didn't shower and was trying to smell good? In any case, an infants' room is not the place to wear heavy perfume - or any at all, for that matter. Maybe that wasn't what caused Axel to refuse the bottles, but it certainly could have aggravated the situation. Infants are very sensitive to scents, and I imagine the really tiny babies had more issues with it. The poor things go from their mothers' sweet milky scent to this horrific perfume - blech.

I'm going to wait and see how he does today before freaking out too much. Regardless, though, I will be making a call to the daycare center's director to chat about both the inappropriate commentary (He doesn't like my milk?  Right.) and the excessive noxious vapors. I mean perfume.

I just really hope he drinks his milk today.

Perspective

I was all ready to write a pity party blog post today. It was going to go like this:

I spent the weekend as a single mom - the husband went off to play with his buddies. While he was gone, the baby developed a fever and was not at all happy. We went to the doctor, who couldn't find an infection so sent us home with instructions to take Tylenol and come back if the fever was still there in a few days. This was our second trip to the doctor this week as he's had a cold with a nasty, wheezy cough. Drugged up on Tylenol, he slept like an angel and awoke on Saturday his normal - but still coughing and snuffling - self.

Though I had great quality time with my precious son, I got nothing done house-wise the entire weekend. My mom relieved me on Saturday so I could at least go to the grocery store, but as of last night some of the groceries still remained in their bags, not on the shelves.

I resisted the temptation to tell my husband he wasn't allowed to go on any more of these weekend-long outings. Or at least maybe limit them to once or twice a year... I thought maybe I was just feeling extra down because the house was a disaster and the kid was sick, making the weekend tough. Still, I couldn't help but harbor a little resentment that he was off having fun and not home having family time. When he returned he did entertain the kid while I scurried around getting things ready for today. I never settled down, though - there were bottles to prepare, dishes to wash, diapers and clothes to wash, pump parts to clean. And I still needed to buy more jarred fruit for Axel to take to daycare. By the time I finished all of these things and caught up on a little bit of email, it was midnight. When I finally crawled into bed (where the husband had been sleeping for the past hour or so), I couldn't sleep. I was too wired, probably still bitter, and also coming down with a cold. I read for a while trying to get sleepy, then finally turned off the light and attempted sleep. That's when my husband had a coughing fit, rolled over and started snoring.

I stared at the ceiling waiting for the snoring to subside, and when it didn't, I gently tapped him on the shoulder, and said in a whimpery voice "could you roll over? You're snoring." He obliged, and the snoring dissipated. I was still wired.

Then Axel cried out. By now it was about 1:00. I didn't have the energy to shush him back to sleep, so I gave in and let him nurse a little bit. He was back in his crib sleeping by 1:20. I crawled back in bed, still wired. I must have slept a little, but was awoken again at 3:30. Again, I nursed him, and put him back in bed, and he wouldn't sleep. I guess he was wired too.

I tried and tried to shush him, but finally gave up and brought him to our bed so he could nurse himself to sleep. Normally this is how I get sleep in these situations. Unfortunately, this time he snored.  And snored. And snuffled. And I was already so wired that this made it completely impossible to sleep.  After a period of time I deemed sufficient for him to achieve deep sleep, I transfered him back to his crib. Where he slept. For about 10 minutes.  And then he cried.

If I were a baby, I would have been classified as an "overtired" baby. The crying kind. The kind that's so worked up they don't know what to do.  I scooped up my baby and held him close, bargaining with him. "Sweetie - Mommy needs to sleep, too." I offered him fingers to chew on - which is saying a lot, considering the sharp objects that exist in his mouth. I bounced him, whispered soothing things in his ear. Dribbled salty tears onto his downy soft hair.

It's obvious that something was really bothering him, but I couldn't fix it with anything other than a boob. The husband took over for a short while, getting him to sleep in his lap in the chair, but every time he tried to get him back in the crib he cried out again. 5:00 am came and he was about to take him to the family room when I told him to just bring him back to bed. At that point it was more important that the baby sleep than that I sleep. And so he was back on the boob, and drifted off eventually. And started snoring again.

I know I lay awake watching him for a while, but I assume at some point I did finally sleep. The next thing I knew, it was 7am and my husband was kissing us goodbye. At which point Axel woke up crying again. And again we used the boob to sedate him. (I convinced myself that this was his normal morning feeding so I shouldn't withhold it.)  And so I was awake, but he was asleep. And he slept until 8:30. I went ahead and got completely ready for work, including loading up the car.  When he woke up I quickly dressed him and we left. I was only an hour late for work. (Normally I'm 1/2 an hour late - still can't figure out how to get here on time.)

So I groggily wandered into my office, said hello to our admin. I asked her how her weekend was and she told me her mother has bone cancer. My heart sank for her. I offered my sympathies and went to the kitchen to get her a cup of coffee. That's where I ran into a coworker who told me that another coworker is out this week because he's starting 12 weeks of chemo.

Suddenly sleep deprivation doesn't sound so bad. And I remember what it took to get my little sleepless sweet pea to begin with, and my overtired mommy tears are replaced with thankful tears of joy.

I am blessed.

Seven Months

(I started this post three days ago, but alas, the frantic pace of work and the demands of a sick and/or teething baby have kept it as yet unfinished.)

Dear Axel,

Two days ago you turned 7 months old! I'm sorry I didn't write on time, but I was particularly frustrated that day - it was my first day back in the office with you in day care. I was very busy at work and managed to not totally freak out about you being with strangers. However, when I picked you up, I found that you had been fed too much milk and food, and then spit it all up. You had also only had one very short nap! So you were cranky and probably had an upset tummy. Despite that, you smiled when I came in and didn't seem to hold it against me. The next day went much much better- you hardly spit up, and actually took two (very short) naps. Better than one! The teachers at daycare really like you, and you seem to really like them and especially all the other kids!

OK, now on to the business of the past month! The most recent and exciting development of the past month is that you can now roll from your back to your tummy... making you somewhat mobile. I left you in the middle of the floor in your room briefly, and when I came back, I found you wedged under your dresser. We really need to step up the baby-proofing!

We had a wonderful Christmas visiting family. We were a little concerned that you wouldn't handle all the shuffling from place to place well, but you behaved like a mostly perfect little gentleman! You had some short naps here and there (on my lap), and rested during the car rides. We hosted Christmas Eve dinner at our house, but didn't get the food on the table before you needed to go to bed. So you missed most of that, but at least you slept really well that night. In fact, I don't think you woke up at all between 11 and 6.  Santa and all of your friends and family brought you lots of fun toys, cute clothes, and a few donations to your college fund! Daddy and I got a new camera so that we can take even more pictures of you! The best part of the holidays was visiting the various parts of the family. One of your Great Grandpas hasn't been feeling well lately, so I know he especially enjoyed seeing you.

After Christmas we drove down to visit with your Aunt, Uncle and cousin. During that trip we went to the zoo! You got to ride in the wagon with your cousin - I think you were a little worried at first, but certainly got the hang of it eventually.

We got a glimpse of how you enjoy being around other kids, and sure enough, at daycare you smile at them and really enjoy watching the older ones move around.

In addition to big milestones like rolling over, you're accomplishing so many smaller things! You're really getting good at using your hands to grab toys, faces, jewelry, cheerios, and well, pretty much everything. Your vocal skills are also improving by leaps and bounds! You've added a whole assortment of consonants and we regularly hear you say "dadadadadada" and "mamamamamama", though you don't seem to know what they mean yet. You have a great sense of humor and an absolutely infectious laugh. We love to dance - I'll grab you and dance all over the place with you, making up songs like the conga-esque "dancing dancing dance-ING, dancing dancing dance-ING". You also enjoy dancing by yourself on the floor, bouncing yourself up an down while seated. The daycare teachers got a big kick out of that.

Time is flying by, and I can't believe how much your personality is developing! It's hard to imagine that within the next several months you'll be truly mobile, getting into all sorts of mischief, no doubt. We're taking you to Yosemite in a couple months - I'm sure you'll love it as much as we do.

I must finish this now, otherwise it'll never get done! I love you so much, my sweet boy.

Love,
Mommy