Liam: August Update

On August 13th at 5:00 PM, William James discovered that he had a body.

You should have seen the kid. He was crawling as fast as he could to one couch, pulling up to it, grinning, getting back down, grinning, crawling as fast as he could to the other couch, pulling up to it, grinning, getting back down, grinning, and crawling back to the first couch. When he tired of that, he took to rolling madly back and forth on the rug like a hot pig in cool muck. I think we got more motion out of that kid in a three-hour block than we've had from him in the first 18 months of his life combined. And he was loving every moment of it, you could tell.


Liam has kind of had a sudden burst of development overall during the past month. He switched from belly-crawling to hands-and-knees crawling. He figured out how to pull himself to a stand while holding onto furniture for support. He's even started to cruise a bit.


This is ironic because last month I finally got worried enough about Liam's development to take him to the doctor for an evaluation. The doc said he didn't think there was anything wrong, per se, but that Liam did seem a bit behind on his gross motor skills, so he referred us to the Idaho Infant-Toddler Program. The Infant-Toddler people sent a very nice lady out to our house to do an assessment. The completed evaluation read something like this: "Liam is ridiculously cute and charming. Also, he has a big head. Also, he is behind in all areas of development. Way behind. I recommend him for physical therapy and developmental therapy."


When I mentioned this to a friend of ours from Ecuador, she just snorted. "You Americans. You want all the kids to be exactly the same. Always on the same page at the same moment. Kids are all different! There is a large range of normal!" Which is basically what Abe has been saying all this time. And I also suspect that Liam is simply a take-things-at-your-own-pace kind of a guy and he'll be just fine. I certainly don't want to be one of those pushy parents who are obsessed with their child's academic performance, who follow their toddlers around with flash cards, who won't be satisfied if their kid doesn't read at 2, solve algebraic equations at 3, and compose orchestral scores at 4. I think it's a bad idea to push kids into doing things before they're ready. A very bad idea. But still.

I can't shake the worry that maybe there's some underlying issue that a physical therapist will pick up on while working with him. Some sort of neurological issue. Or cardiovascular problem. Or allergies. Or something. And in the meantime, I don't think it will do him any harm to have some nice person coming to play with him once a week. And while I don't want to be a hyperactive parent, I also don't want to be the parent who's like, "What? My kid's autistic? What? Early intervention would have made a big difference? What? But it's too late now? What?" (And no, in case you were wondering, I don't think that Liam is autistic.)

But anyway.....

Liam got his first haircut this month. This was a shockingly sentimental occasion for me. Soren's first haircut? I callously buzzed the hair off, swept it up, and threw it away. Liam's? Liam's I reluctantly trimmed. And I saved the leavings in a Ziploc baggie. And I labeled and dated the baggie.


I've heard moms say that they hate to give that first haircut because it makes their baby look like a big kid. By the time Soren was ready for a haircut, he already seemed like a big kid to me. He was certainly already getting himself into big kid trouble. Giving him a big kid hair cut just seemed sensible. Having our little perpetual baby reach this milestone, however, was a little more heart-wrenching. How could I possibly be cutting off these wispy soft tendrils of sweet baby tenderness? But I did it. And he looked quite handsome. Briar even styled it into a faux hawk for him.


Abraham tries to read to Liam once a day, just to see the grin that immediately lights up his face when he sees a book coming his way. He also likes to look at stories when he's alone. He'll happily babble out his own made-up words as he turns the pages.

One evening Abe was watching a movie on his computer (earphones on, because the crib is in the computer room) when he happened to glance over at Liam's bed. And there sat our naked-except-for-a-diaper baby, glowing in the dim light of the computer monitor, smiling quietly, looking for all the world, according to Abe, like a "little happy baby Buddha."

And he certainly is our little happy baby Buddha.

I sure love you, Liam.

They do occasionally play together. Nicely, even.

Brothers

I'm not gonna lie: my children do not really like each other. Soren decided that Liam was Satan's spawn the first day he laid eyes on him, and his opinion has not wavered far from that original assessment. Liam would probably be more apt to develop a friendship with his big brother were he not terrified that pain-- or at least yelling-- might result from any contact they make. But right here on my blog, in full color, I have captured my two children passing a few peaceful moments within close proximity.

Media really can bring us together.

Liam: July 2010

Liam continues to be Liam. I worry a bit about the fact that, at sixteen months, he is not even pulling up to pieces of furniture, let alone walking. But he's still our little darling. As I started this post, I realized it sounded a bit little a personal ad, so that is how I shall post it.

Baby, 16 months, seeks companion, 9-18 months, for parallel play.

SWM, two feet tall, thirty pounds: chubby, cuddly, jovial, sweet.

Enjoys flinging sand across the sandbox, splashing in the bathtub, hearing stories read aloud,

playing pat-a-cake, cuddling, trying new foods,

and examining objects from all angles.

Does not enjoy waiting for bottles.

Companion must be willing to accommodate occasional play-time naps.


Please text if interested.

No Room Service. Need Sleepy.

If you asked me to pinpoint the single topic that has caused me the most stress as a mom over the past couple of years, I would have to go ahead and point an accusing finger at sleep.

It all started when I was in labor with Soren....for three days. I didn't sleep for two straight nights, and let me tell you, that does something to a person. Especially a wound up, slightly neurotic person like myself, whose brain responded to the sleep deprivation, not by sleeping, but rather by kicking into overdrive, counting frantically by 7s, 11s, or 18s, and refusing stubbornly to calm down enough to get some decent rest. Soren, being a newborn, was waking up at least every three hours at night to nurse, so my nights (and days) went something like this: get baby to sleep, lie awake in bed for 1 1/2 hours, sleep for 1 hour, wake up to feed baby for 45 minutes, lie awake in bed for 1 1/2 hours, sleep for 30 minutes, wake up to feed baby for 45 minutes, etc, etc, etc. It nearly drove me to the brink of madness, and I must say that I am DEEPLY grateful that we were living with my parents at the time, because they were there to shine light into my muddied, confused consciousness by taking the baby and making me sleep during the day. Otherwise I might have (completely) lost my mind.

But this is a digression. I meant to write about my children, who are horrible sleepers, and whose horrible sleeping causes me much angst. From the very beginning of their lives they have been awful sleepers: up at least every three hours for the first six months of their lives, refusing to sleep through the night until they were....until they were...okay, let's not lie: neither of them sleep through the night. Soren generally does okay, but he has nightmares a couple times a week that require mommy's comforting presence-- and Liam still thinks he's a newborn, waking up two or three times a night for a bottle.

This causes me some discomfort, for sure. But even worse, I worry about what it's doing to them. You see, in my desperation to find some rest for the whole family, I've done a lot of reading on sleep: Sears, Pantley, Weissbluth, Ferber, Babywise-- and while none of these books have succeeded in assisting my children in sleeping through the night (I'm telling you people, some children will scream all night long for weeks rather than giving up and falling asleep) some of them have scared the pants off me. Ol' Dr. Weissbluth, in particular, gassed on and on in his book about how sleep deprivation is the root of all childhood problems: behavioral issues, ADHD, academic problems, emotional issues, developmental delays. The man has done a lot of research on pediatric sleep and now has me thoroughly convinced that sleep plays an essential role in all aspects of a child's development.

So when I put Soren in his room for his nap and he spends two hours throwing things out the window and putting on every article of clothing that he owns, I worry. Especially when he emerges from his room with dark circles under his eyes and a penchant for throwing hurricane tantrums, I worry.

And when Liam, at age 16 months, is still waking up twice a night for a bottle and napping for only an hour or two during the day, I worry. Especially when he fusses all the day long for no reason and is barely army-crawling, I worry.

I know other parents who don't worry about sleep at all! Whose kids stay up with them until ten or eleven, who sleep in 'til nine, who don't always take naps, and who do just fine. Whose kids will sometimes just randomly fall asleep....sitting in the high chair, driving in the car, playing with toys.

My kids, on the other hand--if they don't fall asleep at eight, sleep through to seven, and get a decent nap during the day--are little wrecks. Liam gets all whiny and twitchy and tic-y; Soren behaves like the ill-begotten bastard child of Animal and the Tasmanian Devil. And heaven forbid either of them should just drift off on occasion because they were tired...oh no. They have to be carefully primed and prepped in order for sleep to occur. Because when my kids are tired, they don't slow down...they just get crazier and crazier. If we put them to bed too late, they have a tendency to stay up all night counting by 18s. (And by "counting by 18s," I mean screaming and/or grinding one's own feces into the carpet.)

So I worry constantly about sleep...if my kids are tired, if they're ready for a nap, if their behaviors and issues are rooted in chronic sleep deprivation. It's honestly an issue that makes me want to stop at two children. The very thought of dealing with this yet again makes me want to lie down and weep hot, bitter tears.

Sleep Sketch

His head rests against the back of the chair,
eyes closed,
mouth slightly open,
the very tips of two teeth peeking out.
Under one thick wrist is a cotton receiving blanket, the print a jumble of baseball bats and hockey pucks and catchers' mitts. The other arm supports the white-diapered bum of a sleeping infant whose thick legs, like yeasty blobs of sturdy dough, are curled together on Daddy's denim lap. The little one's three-dimpled elbow is bent just slightly, his five-dimpled hand rests on Daddy's chest.
They breathe together and the little one, lashes pressed against smooth curved cheeks, contentedly draws peace from his pacifier.

Liam Update: April 2010

Liam, as you all know, has finally launched himself into the world of mobility. He is relatively laid-back about his movements, however-- even though he can drag himself anywhere his whimsy draws him, I don't feel that everything in the home is in danger of either being utterly destroyed by (or utterly destroying) my new little quadruped. Here's a little of what's been going on with our little angelito.

Here he is, grinning at Daddy from his walker in the kitchen. He loves his daddy; in fact, I'm pretty sure that when he says "dad" he knows that it signifies the nice man who takes care of him in mommy's absence.

Examining the camera lens. Liam is very scientific in his approach to life, cautiously exploring everything he encounters. He spent a lot of time playing with the shadow of his hand in a sunbeam one morning. He loves to try things over and over again: "If I do this, what will happen? Will it happen again?" He likes to do this with Soren, who freaks out and screams every time Liam touches him. One morning I was holding both my boys in my lap and Liam reached over and very softly touched Soren's arm. "OUCH!" screamed Soren. Liam laughed, then did it again. "OUCH!!" Liam laughed some more, then tried touching him a little more firmly. Soren started wailing, so Liam, still amused, started touching him more. It was all I could do to keep from laughing myself.

Smiling at Mommy's fascinating rending of "Head, Shoulders, Knees, and Toes." Liam loves being sung to and really loves watching dancing. Auntie Hillary tells me that he laughs and laughs when she belly dances for him in the kitchen.

Engaging in some sort of exciting game with Daddy's weighted medicine balls. Here's another funny Soren/Liam story: Liam and Soren were playing with blocks together in the front room. The adults of the household were enjoying this rare moment of brotherly peace, so we were in the kitchen eating dinner. Soren ran in to make sure I was still there, and after a few minutes, I told him we should go check on Liam. Liam, in Soren's absence, had crawled over to Soren's toy train and was examining it. When he looked up and saw Soren, however, he startled-- and started to grab at another nearby toy. I could practically hear him saying, "I wasn't playing with your toy! No siree! Not me! I was just sitting here looking at this....um...at this here block! Yup! That's what I was doing all the while!"

All that drag-crawling is exhausting!

Liam has a fantastic fake cheesy grin.

I always put Liam in bed with daddy before I leave for work in the morning. Liam LOVES having a grown-up to cuddle with at sleepy time.

Enjoying a piece of Soren's "Diego" puzzle.

Getting a leg up on his crawling skills. (Heh heh.)

Liam's been big on throwing stuff lately. Anything within reach, he'll pick up and hurl, like the Duplos above.

Liam is a quirky little guy. He can whistle a little. He also enjoys rocking himself back and forth vigorously, shaking his head compulsively, and thoroughly examining the carpet. We've been able to get him to eat a little more solid food throughout the past month, but it's scary to give him anything too chunky because he'll put a bite of food in his mouth and then start rocking hard against his high chair. He was doing this one evening and I asked him, "Liam? Do you WANT to choke on that?" Liam paused, looked at me, blinked three times, and then returned to hurling himself against the hard plastic seat back.

Liam is still our little sunbeam. He has a light in his eyes that literally shines. He is a marvelously sweet and calm child-- except at night when he wakes up instantly furious that a bottle hasn't already been brought to him. He'll scream with all the fervor of his being until the sweet liquid refreshment has been put to his lips. In just minutes, his little face will have grown splotchy from the exertion of all that screaming, but he'll be able to shut off his rage instantly after his bottle has been brought to him.

Liam's best friend, Bahbah. I finally weaned him this month. so he's really taken a shine to his bottle.

Hypnotizin' Those Babies

So even if all that prenatal Hypnobabies practice didn't help me have a drug-free delivery, it seems to have made an impact on Liam. Look at him working that hypnotizin' groove on his pappy.

My Birthday Present from Liam

On the evening of my birthday (it was very lovely, thank you), Abraham and I were playing "Pass the Pigs" on a book of nursery rhymes on the living room floor. Liam really, really wanted to get his chubby little paws on those chubby little pigs, and it ultimately turned into his first official crawling experience.

Also, I cannot believe how long it takes to upload videos. Gee Willakers.

Brothers

Abraham has a knack for taking pictures of our newborns when they're pulling the most fabulous faces. I like these two shots because they truly illustrate how (phenotypically) similar our children are.

Soren, aged 15 days, January 2007.

Liam, aged 5 days, February 2009.

Interventionalizin' Those Babies

Most of you, dear Readers, seemed quite interested in my earlier post about Hypnobabies, so I thought I'd check in and let you know how the whole beaaautiful birthing experience went down.

The natural childbirth people talk about what they call "birth interventions"-- things like induction, continuous fetal monitoring, pain medication, and episiotomies-- as though they were one of the seven plagues of Egypt. Everyone from the Bradley people to Ricky Lake have put their index fingers in an "x" and hissed at an IV bag full of Pitocin. The idea is that medical intervention should be avoided at all costs, as interventions can often lead to complications. Generally I agree with this attitude, which is why God struck me with my transverse baby.

When I went to see both my midwife, Susan Binegar-Rider, and obstetrician, Margaret Huggins, almost a week after my due date and little Liam had still not permanently turned into a head-down position, it became clear that at least a little intervening was inevitable. The "wait-and-see" policy I had previously adopted was beginning to seem less safe-- if I waited to see if Liam turned head down until I went into labor, I would risk uterine rupture or an umbilical cord prolapse. It took me a little while to adjust my thinking, but we ultimately decided that it would be best to schedule a version and, if the version was successful, induce labor while he still had his head down-- and if it wasn't successful, go ahead with a C-Section.

So Wednesday morning started out with a "version," performed--since my own Obstetrician was away on an emergency call--by Dr. Barbara Nelson of the Rosemark Women's Center. The nurses all told me that she was the best baby turner they'd ever seen, so I felt that it was serendipity that she was the one who was available to do the procedure. She was accompanied by an adorable male ultrasound technician who looked like he was perhaps from Pakistan, smelled deliciously foreign, and referred to me as "my friend." Anyway, after a few minutes of discomfort, Liam was turned into a more appropriate birthing position. High fives were exchanged all around, a nurse stabbed me with an IV (which thing made Abraham quite faint), and I was trotted down to a birthing room in a stylish moon-and-stars hospital gown.

After Lisa, the attending nurse, got us all hooked up with the Pitocin (intervention) and strapped me to a continuous fetal monitor (intervention), and Dr. Nelson had broken my water (uncomfortable intervention), Abe got out his book of fairy tales and read to me for a while. Lisa would occasionally come in and ask, "How are you feeling?" and when I said, "Great!" She'd say, "OK. Let's crank up that Pitocin a little." She seemed a little bit like a torturer : "Still feeling comfortable, hmm? Well, let's see how you do when I turn up your contractions to a 7!" So I sat there through several hours of increasingly strong contractions, focusing on relaxing through each one, and visuallizing the sensation as a warm yellow light moving through my back and abdomen. This worked very well-- so well, in fact, that after we put on a Hypnobabies CD, Abe even fell asleep while I labored. Loriann came in to visit during her lunch break and we had a nice chat between contractions, which were then about a minute long and a minute apart.

Shortly after Loriann left, however, the contractions started feeling less like a warm glowing light and more like a sharp searing burn. I decided I didn't really feel like suffering, so we called in the anesthesiologist (intervention), who injected me with a lovely formula of liquid sunshine while humming a happy ditty to himself. At that point, I was only dilated to a five, but within an hour, I could feel Liam moving into the birth canal. Things progressed pretty quickly from there. Because Liam's heart rate was dropping, I was hooked up to an internal fetal monitor (intervention) and injected with fake amniotic fluid (intervention). And at 3:52 PM, after three minutes of pushing, Mr. William James was born. With all those interventions, I reduced my birthing time from 45 hours (with Soren) to 6 1/2 (with Liam). It was glorious. "Night and day," said Dr. Huggins, of my two births. "Night and day."

And I'm not at all sorry that I spent all the time and money that I did on Hypnobabies. Well, actually, now that I write that, I realize that maybe I am a little sorry. That was a lot of time invested. But I do feel that the techniques I learned helped me through the first several hours of my labor in comfort, so it wasn't a complete waste. And I also genuinely believe that, had I been able to move around freely (I couldn't because of my IVs and continuous monitoring), I would have made it all the way without an epidural. Also, the relaxation techniques have helped me since having the baby, allowing me to fall asleep quickly when I have the opportunity (I'm generally not very good at falling asleep). And I did have a positive birthing experience, though I imagine it's not anything the Hypnobabies people would want to post with their testimonials.

So, in conclusion: I interventionalized this birth. And it was a good birth. But maybe next time I can go back to hypnotizin' that birth process. We'll see.

Liam: Welcome Letter

Dear Liam,

You're lying on a blanket in your carseat and I'm sitting right next to you with the computer on my lap, watching you sleep and listening to the little creaks and squeaks you make as you dream. Soren and Daddy are at Grandma's house, which means that you and I have a few rare moments to be alone. You don't seem to notice or care, however. You just want to sleep.

The pajamas you wear drown your tiny little body and your face is tanned with jaundice. You hold your little arms in a praying mantis position and your long thin fingers hang down. You just woke up and stretched long enough to noisily fill your diaper, then drifted back into sleep. The nurses at the hospital were worried that your jaundice would make you too sleepy to remember to eat, but that hasn't been a problem at all. The moment your eyes open you're ready for food, a desire you aren't afraid to express loudly.

When Soren was a newborn I read a book called Chocolat, picked up and savored during the long hours I spent nursing and rocking him. The mother in the book referred to her child as "My Little Stranger." I remember thinking it was an apt description then for my little Soren, and I find myself using it now, for you, as I look into your dark almond-shaped eyes and sense that inside your tiny little body is a whole human being, unique, beautiful, already whole, just waiting to unfold. Thus far, you have been a very serene baby, content to sleep and eat and occasionally open your eyes and calmly look around. (Around here that makes you both strange and a stranger.)
Your Daddy fell in love with you the moment he laid eyes on you. You should see the way he lights up when you're in his arms, the gentle cheery voice he uses when you open your eyes. He has a hard time putting you down and can't look at you without making a remark like, "What a handsome little boy!" Soren is a little more dubious. He gives you hugs and kisses and watches with great concern whenever you cry, but he's also wondering where he fits in to this newly shaped family, and has begun fighting naps and bedtimes, afraid, perhaps that when he awakes you will have replaced him completely. But here we are, now, joyfully irrevocable, the four of us: Daddy, Mommy, Soren, and Liam. Your family.

Welcome Home, Little Stranger.

Love,

Mama

Portrait of the first few days with a newborn (in which I cry a great deal).

-Abraham came to visit and bring us home Thursday afternoon. While we waited for my lunch to arrive, he climbed into the hospital bed with me and Liam. The three of us cuddled while huge snowflakes swirled around outside our window.

-When we arrived at Grandma's to pick up Soren, I came in first and found him in a high chair eating supper. "Mommy!" he said cheerfully. "Mommy, mommy, mommy!" I gave him kisses. Then Daddy brought in the new baby and we talked about him for a while, explaining again to Soren how this was his baby, his new little brother. Soren seemed intrigued by this idea. And then the baby started to cry. So I picked him up, explaining that I needed to feed the new baby. Soren immediately began to scream, his eyes welled up with tears, he threw his bowl and spoon on the floor, and between sobs he said, "Hug? Hug? Hug?" I, being the mature adult, burst into tears as well.

-Soren's hands seemed so small to me just a few days ago. Now they seem enormous. I sat in a rocking chair with Liam last night and cried and cried, thinking about how hard I've tried to remember everything about Soren's babyhood, and how I don't, and how he's grown so big so fast. I cried, too, because it's hard to split my time between those two little angels of mine.

-Liam is so tiny. He weighed 7 pounds 5 ounces at birth and is 21 inches long. His little legs and little arms are thin enough that Grandma says she thinks he looks like a little refugee baby. They are long and narrow and covered with loose jaundiced skin. His skin is very soft and I love his sweet tiny little smell. I can't get over how narrow and little his rib cage is, how long and thin his fingers are.

-Our first night home we decided Liam was starving to death. He nursed and nursed and nursed and never seemed to get enough. We decided to give him a little formula to tide him over until my milk came in. Digging around in our cupboards, we discovered that while we had bottles, we had no nipples. So after each nursing session we would feed him formula with a dropper. At about four AM, after a three hour nursing session, we had him eating from a dropper again. It struck me that he looked like an orphaned kitten and I cried and cried and cried. (My milk supply has since increased and the little one has been eating and pooping like, well, a newborn.)

-Liam is a good nurser. He latches on without trouble and eats very gently. Soren thinks this nursing thing is very weird. When he and his daddy were looking at a book together. Soren pointed at a picture of a glue bottle on one page and said, "Boobie. Ewww." Forgetting, apparently, about the first 13 months of his own life, when boobies didn't seem so gross.

-Liam currently alternates his nights with me and Abe: the first few hours he sleeps on Daddy while they watch movies. Then he nurses for like three hours. Then he and Abe sleep on the couch or rocker recliner. I get up with Soren at around 7 and we have some baby-free time together. We'll all be sad when Daddy goes back to work.