About the car

July 25, 2009 at 10:44 pm (Uncategorized)
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Remember how we discussed whether to get a family car? So far, we haven’t felt any need.

Laurel had her first BART ride when she was about a week old — to go to the Department of Public Health to apply for her birth certificate. She was remarkably unfazed. Since then, she’s ridden BART at least twice a week, and buses at least once a week. She’s been on some of San Francisco’s most notorious bus/trolley lines, including the 38, the 22, the 44, the N Judah, the 14 and the 49. So far, she’s liked them all. Her uncle Tyler says Laurel has ridden the bus more times in her life than he has in his many years of living in San Francisco.

Lately, Laurel loves staring at people on the bus, which is OK when you’re four months old and have huge, glowing blue eyes. (We’ll teach her about staring and politeness later.) On long trips, she stares and smiles at people for ages, and then the swaying/swerving/wallowing motion one associates with San Francisco buses — and their kamikaze drivers — eventually lulls her to sleep. Last week, she fell so deeply asleep that her neck totally relaxed and I had to hold her head; it looked a bit like she was broken.

I’ve taken her twice in our Del Sol when I had to make a long drive to a medical appointment on the Peninsula. And she’s been in cars we borrowed from carshare a few times, mainly for long trips to see her grandparents in Sonoma County. Once, we rode in a minivan with another couple and their baby. She sleeps in her car seat at freeway speeds and tends to wake up and watch out the window when we’re on surface streets. But, for the most part, her babyhood has been a low-car existence.

It’s important to add that we’re not using a stroller yet. When she goes out with us on public transit, she’s either in the Moby wrap with me or the sling with Devin. So we’re taking up very little space, relatively speaking. I’m usually able to fit myself, Laurel, and our bag (and often a shopping bag!) all into one seat on the bus or subway, which is a point of pride, considering how many people hog two seats.

I do, occasionally, worry that we’ll be in a bus or trolley that happens to collide with … something. BART hasn’t had any crashes in its history that I’m aware of, so I’m comfortable standing when we ride the subway. When we’re on the bus or trolley, though, I sit down and hold on.

Meanwhile, our car has been driven so little that one night when I had to go to the ER for a sudden infection, we had to jump the battery because it had run down. Seriously, it has made zero sense so far for us to buy a car. We’ve made the right decision, so far.

– Beth

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Learning curves

July 16, 2009 at 11:09 pm (Uncategorized)
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It’s funny, but I never thought much about what kind of mother I would be. Once I discovered that I was about to be SOME kind of mother, I tried to clear my mind — as best I could — of preconceived notions, hoping that I (and we) could let our child show us the kind of parents we needed to be. Sure, we had some ideas in mind: we wanted to be loving and encouraging, not let her off too easily, try to avoid too much mass advertising or junk food (and educate her as to why), that sort of thing. But, I don’t know yet whether I will be one of those moms who’s deeply involved in her child’s school, for example, or how I will frame my willingness to listen as she copes with emotional and social problems as she gets older. I’m trying to keep an open mind.

This week in yoga, the teacher reminded us at the beginning of class to bring our thoughts to the present moment. She said, “Babies are really good at teaching us to do this — to forget everything else and just be here in the moment.” That got me thinking about what Laurel’s been teaching me so far (and what I’ve been struggling to learn, by following her lead):

1. Patience (I’m terrible at this one)
2. Letting her struggle to figure something out on her own
3. Not taking it personally, or thinking it’s my fault, when she’s upset
4. Being present
5. To keep working away at something, even though it’s frustrating, because once you master it you feel really good (nursing her was like this for me)

After a few months of exhaustedly wondering who I’d become since Laurel’s birth, a lot of things feel like they’ve come together for me in the past few weeks. I’m starting to have physical energy again, which helps immensely. With that has come mental energy. I’m having ideas for writing projects again, also a huge relief — and helps me feel more like “myself” again. But I’m not the same old self anymore; a big part of my focus is on mothering, and on learning what kind of mother I am.

Right now, I’m applying myself more to various parenting projects, such as Project Figuring Out How To Get Laurel To Nap and Project Nursing In Public (both of which have been really difficult lately). Historically, I haven’t been at all good at plugging away at something when it’s not going well, but somehow with these I’m undaunted — maybe because they’re things I have to figure out how to do. This willingness to persevere is new for me; it feels a little like an alien part of my personality, but I accept that I’m going to feel that way as I shift into this new role.

At the same time, I’m treading into some difficult emotional territory by reading Hope Edelman’s “Motherless Mothers: How Mother Loss Shapes The Parents We Become.” So far, she has confirmed my suspicion that having a midwife helped me overcome that need for a knowing maternal presence during pregnancy and childbirth. She also writes about a specific kind of body memory in a way that was very comforting for me:

According to psychoanalysts such as Melanie Klein and Nancy Chodorow, the memory of being lovingly cared for as a newborn — assuming one was lovingly cared for as a newborn — remains encoded inside us all until our own children are born, when it’s then summoned up and transferred into action. … “We remember in so many different ways, not just in words and images,” Maxine Harris explains. “We also remember with our bodies. If your child squirms and you lean into her and cuddle her a certain way, that bodily expression is actually a memory. You can feel tremendously comforted by a sensation that really is a connection to a mother you may have only known for a couple of years.”

Granted, mothering is still relatively easy at this stage — I don’t have to decide how to discipline her for sneaking too many cookies or figure out how to talk to her about sex. And, for the most part, I haven’t had to make any sudden mothering moves; I’ve had time to think before I act. I’ll be curious to see what skills and traits emerge when I have to act quickly.

Devin can speak for himself (or not) on this topic, but so far he has been a wonderful father, more than I could have imagined him to be. He’s so loving and compassionate with her, but also encourages her to work hard when she’s trying to learn something. I’m learning from him, too, because he’s set a great example so far. I feel lucky to have two such good teachers as my core family, and I’m trying to take as many notes as possible.

– Beth

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Going so fast

June 28, 2009 at 5:06 pm (Uncategorized)
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Babies exist in states of almost pure emotions; the joy of seeing a familiar face, the acute discomfort of hunger, the terror of waking up in a strange place (or, worse, alone). My time with Laurel is often spent focusing on how she’s feeling, and trying to play up her happiness whenever possible so she’ll enjoy whatever she’s doing — from eating to playing to struggling with a new skill — more. Maybe it’s mirror neurons or new-mommy hormones, who knows, but despite the fatigue and the occasional boredom I have had many more moments of pure joy in the past four months than I can recall having in years.

It’s so rewarding to watch her struggle and grow, like the multi-week effort to grab her own toes. It started in May, when she began to notice she had feet on the ends of her legs. She spent weeks staring at them, watching them wiggle around. Then she started to lift them up and realize that she had control over them. Then, she worked on her flexibility enough that she could grasp them. And then, finally, she figured out how to get them in her mouth.

Although she has enjoyed that particular lesson, she’s enjoying tummy time less. Despite that, she can hold her head up for longer and longer periods, has turned over front-to-back a handful of times, and generally has more patience for the position before dissolving into frustration. Yesterday she managed to roll over back-to-front and then immediately went front-to-back again, and a few minutes later rolled most of the way onto her front again. Getting her legs up high enough to grasp means she’s started to roll from side to side, which she likes; now she uses it to get closer to certain toys. And that has led to reaching out and grasping for more toys, usually for the purposes of getting them into her mouth.

Speaking of mouths, although she’s not doing it consistently yet, she has started to laugh — but only when one of us is really egging her on, getting sillier and sillier with her. To get her to abandon into laughter, we have to abandon ourselves, too.

In recent weeks, we’ve started using sign language with her a little bit on the grounds that in a few months she’ll be able to sign back to us to express herself in the months before she develops language skills. Right now we’re focusing on the sign for “milk” and, to a lesser extent, “more.” Eventually, when she starts solid food, we’ll teach her “eat,” and once she masters those we can teach her more.

Time seems to be flying by so quickly already; she’s nearly four months old, a third of a year. I see a lot of older babies from week to week — six-month-olds, eight-month-olds, 10-month-olds, and I marvel at how big and adult they seem compared to Laurel. But I also recognize that the difference between her and them is a matter of weeks, weeks that will go fast. I’m amazed by how rapidly she’s learning and growing.

… Which is why, this week, I gave notice at work that I won’t be returning when my leave is up. Although I suspected for a while that I’d want to eschew work in favor of motherhood for a couple of years, this was when I had to make up my mind for real. I’m sad; I loved my job and I hope someday to return to the world of journalism (or similar writing-for-money-and-informing-the-populace) full-time, not only because it’s good for me but because I want Laurel to have examples in her life of people who get to make a living doing what they love. But for now, recognizing she’ll only have these young years once, I will stay with her and help provide her with the experiences and tools she’ll need to grow into the person she’ll become.

– Beth

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Concept

June 8, 2009 at 10:56 pm (Uncategorized)
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A year ago yesterday, Devin and I had a round of afternoon baby-making sex and then went off to Berkeley to see a musical based on Beowulf. Meanwhile, sperm were swimmering inside me. Two days later, on June 9, they found a ripe egg, joining forces to create the being that eventually became our little girl. A few days later, I had to stay home from work because I was feeling inexplicably tired and queasy. A week or so after that, two pink lines showed up on the pee stick.

So tomorrow’s kind of a birthday for her, although it’s the kind that nobody really celebrates. :)

– Beth

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Getting a head

May 29, 2009 at 5:05 pm (Uncategorized)
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Laurel has started to do this thing when she’s sitting in my lap, facing the same way I’m facing, where she just … lifts her head forward and holds it upright. She started doing it Wednesday while we were at our new-parents group, and she did it again today — specifically, to lunge at my hand, which she wanted to explore with her mouth.

She’s still pretty bobble-headed, but this is the first week she’s shown an interest in seriously taking command of where her head is going in the to-and-fro direction. She’s been moving it from side to side for a few weeks now, I suppose because she can do that even when she’s lying down, but this forward/back thing is new.

Of course, when she grasped my hand with both of hers and lunged at it with her mouth wide open, I started cracking up laughing, which startled her.

Unfortunately, her curiosity has preceded her head control — when we’re out and about, she’d like to look at everything, but it requires one of us holding her head at all times because she hasn’t got the strength yet to do it all on her own.

We’ve also begun practicing tummy time in earnest to make up for all those weeks we didn’t do it because she’d spend the whole time rooting around on the floor, looking for non-existent breasts to nurse on, and then wailing because she couldn’t find them. After a few days of us starting her propped up on her arms in a little “baby pushup,” she’s been able to manage a few pushups on her own. She also occasionally tries to roll over, but the whole effort frustrates and exhausts her. She’s also pretty content to lay on her tummy and suck on her hand for minutes on end. But then, who wouldn’t be?

– Beth

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Lessons from the Vietnam War

May 25, 2009 at 1:33 pm (Uncategorized)
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Devin, to Laurel: So remember, if you should ever have to set up a puppet government, choose a charismatic leader who will take orders effectively, and have a backup charismatic leader who also takes orders effectively in case you have to assassinate the first one.

Laurel: *spits up*

– Beth

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Grasping at things

May 24, 2009 at 7:26 pm (Uncategorized)
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Several weeks ago, Laurel’s great-grandmother gave her this soft blanket which happens to have a giraffe’s head mounted in the center of it. (Not in a Godfather way.) I’ve been using it to keep her warm this past week, the same week she’s been developing her ability to grab things. This resulted in her pulling the head up close to her face and then stuffing the nose into her mouth:

You can also see video of her burgeoning grasping skills here.

Laurel’s almost three months old now, and that’s a big milestone for babies (who, I guess, stop being “newborns” around that point). She’s getting better at holding up her head, at grabbing what she meant to grab, etc. I’m also happy to report that breastfeeding is going much more smoothly for us now, despite lots of hiccups and challenges up to this point, and so I wanted to make a small list of public places we’ve nursed during her first 11 weeks of life:

Dolores Park
Natural Resources (lots of times)
Various doctor’s offices
Various cafes
The Powell Street BART Station
Chenery Park
Chow
Thirsty Bear (nursing and tapas go surprisingly well together)
The track in San Francisco State University’s Cox Stadium (during commencement ceremonies)

… all of them without anyone giving us a hard time about it. Where should we go next?

– Beth

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Pathos magnet

May 13, 2009 at 9:46 pm (Uncategorized)
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Something about bringing a very small baby on public transit brings out the tenderest of stories from some of the most unlikely-looking men.

Last weekend, on our way back from a dinner with friends, we got into a conversation with a man on the J-Church line. When he boarded I noticed him instantly for his muscle shirt, blond flat-top haircut and Native American jewelry. When he saw Laurel he smiled and melted a little, showing off his missing teeth.

He told us about his son, now 7, and how much he’s loved raising him so far. He showed us pictures and told us how having a child has helped him heal from his own difficult childhood. This guy, who looked like an aging frat boy, even talked fondly of carrying his son in a wearable carrier (he called it a “papoose”).

The next night, Laurel was restless and we had to wait about 15 minutes for our train, so I started nursing her in the Powell Street BART station. An older guy with a ponytail struck up conversation with us, mainly with Devin, asking how old Laurel is and talking some about his estranged relationship with his wife and son. He advised us to stay together no matter how bad things get; he and his wife had divorced and it was rough on everybody. It sounded like he missed them both a great deal.

Laurel has a softening effect on a lot of people who meet her, in part because she’s so young and cute and bright-eyed, but I don’t think we ever expected that her presence would invite this kind of pouring-out of emotion. It’s sweet, really, and a bit sad — these guys seemed really hungry to share and be open, with whomever might listen.

– Beth

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Postnatal yoga is not like prenatal yoga

April 29, 2009 at 2:45 pm (Uncategorized)
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After our midwives gave me the all-clear to exercise last week, I decided to check out the mom-and-baby yoga class taught by my prenatal yoga teacher (and birth class teacher). I’d heard it was pandemonium, and also that it was very straightforward yoga with less of the feel-good stuff from the prenatal class. I had my doubts that we’d get through it with Laurel staying calm (or independent), but I wanted to try anyway. Today we did.

(The morning was already challenging enough — she was miserable during her mid-morning feed, having tummy trouble. Which, when I helped her work it out, turned into an epic poop that looked as though someone had frosted her entire diaper area like a cake. She finally fell asleep around 11, so I packed her into the Moby and headed off to the yoga studio.)

My suspicions were correct. Laurel was calm for about 5 minutes at the beginning, when I gathered my yoga props and did the opening sutra. Then she wanted to eat. Then she wanted a diaper change. Finally the teacher picked her up and carted her around the room for about 15 minutes, so I got some sun salutations in. When she brought her back, she said, “I’m sorry to tell you this, but I think she wants to be a yoga teacher. Look at how happy she is!” And she’s right, she was.

Then Laurel wanted to nurse. And be held some more. Laying in shavasana at the end of class I was finally able to get her to calm down and nearly fall asleep — and then only because she was laying on me with my thumb in her mouth.

Many of the other babies fussed at some point during the class, or needed nursing, etc. Some occasionally shrieked their brains out. A few were in car seats, so they could be rocked by a stray hand or foot, which was a good idea. I noticed that the babies older than 3 months were more independent, though, so maybe we’ll do better by then.

Until Laurel is more indepedent, I’m not sure I’ll go back, although I miss yoga terribly. On the one hand, I paid money to mostly sit and tend to Laurel, but on the other hand, I feel really calm and centered now. Despite the pandemonium.

There’s another class closer to home with fewer moms/babies that I might also check out — I hear the teacher likes to hold fussy babies too. :)

– Beth

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Going Back

April 27, 2009 at 1:05 am (Uncategorized)
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Tomorrow morning I’m going back to work — my leave is up. Laurel’s seven weeks and a day and a half old, and sleeping on a blanket next to me on the sofa.

I have a novel and challenging job, but my enthusiasm for going back to it full time is muted. Looking after a baby is exhausting and frustrating and sometimes tedious, but it comes with a lot of built-in rewards that make it feel good when you’re doing it. We had almost two months to orient ourselves towards being a family and get accustomed to what taking care of a child is like. We got to spent most of our waking hours watching Laurel develop in lots of little subtle ways that you can see when you spend that much of your time and energy watching. It’s been really rewarding.

The subtleties of development worry me a little, because they’ve been important in appreciating Laurel as a growing person, who’s gradually acquiring abilities instead of just switching from lacking them to possessing them. They’ve also been, in part, why it feels good spending time with a creature that’s otherwise just a small bundle of almost constant needs. My job’s going to take a big chunk of my Laurel-time directly, and require me to defend another chunk from her needs when I’m around so I can get enough sleep to do my job adeqautely. In what time is left, I can be with her, and with Beth, and tinker with gadgets, and tend the garden and work for the Debian project and the other hundred things I overload my time with.

I had more time to spend at home than most fathers get, and went to quite a few parental events where I was the only man in the room, or walked around on streets where I was the only man carrying a baby. I got to obstinately carry a pair of testicles into events described using the word “mom,” and was for the most part accepted and encouraged. But it wasn’t going to last, largely for the same reason that there weren’t any other men in those rooms; most of those moms had partners supporting them (or, this being San Francisco, had inexplicably weird careers you can pursue from home or cafe in small snatches of time and a lot of cellphone conversations.) Income distributions, workplace patterns and biology being what they are, most men don’t have the option to reduce their work load that far.

All of which points to the part which bothers me the most about going back, namely that Beth and I will be playing an unavoidably asymmetric role in Laurel’s life for a while. She won’t see me as much, won’t have me involved as much of the time, which makes maintaining my own importance a bit harder than it would otherwise have been. Doable, but harder. I’ve heard plenty of perfectly reasonable arguments that young children focus more on their mothers regardless of who’s around, that things even out a bit later on, etc. I’ve heard a couple of quite touching stories of kids spending years looking to their mother for care and nurturing before one day turning to their father for guidance on how to grow up and deal with the world. So I don’t mean to sound fatalistic about my prospects; the downside just looms a lot closer right now.

With all that being said, there are some obvious positives. The extra adult-time will be nice. The excitement of my job will be good, at least once I re-learn how to deal with it. The prospect of feeling like a provider could be a good one. I’ll have a good reason to leave work at reasonable hours. I have a short commute, and my family will be right on the other end of it.

This seems as good a time as any to note some things that I did get to do while on on leave:

  • Helped deliver Laurel, obviously.
  • Learned how to keep her fed, comfortable and not smelling too horribly like spoiled milk
  • Carried her through the Castro just before midnight on a Thursday night
  • Wore her everywhere, thus getting fawned over by women of all ages
  • Logged her first hundred or so public transit miles (and three zipcar rentals)
  • Gave her her first diaper change, bottle feeding, spoon feeding, pouring-from-a-little-bowl-and-making-a-huge-mess feeding; her first bath, first change of clothes, first walk around the block; saw her first smiles, heard her first cooing sounds.
  • Let her sleep on me lots of times
  • Worried over something that was wrong with her, worked on a solution, fixed the problem, stopped worrying
  • Took a lot of pictures
  • Got on friendly terms with our neighborhood UPS man
  • Kept her out of the hospital (as a patient, anyway)
  • Introduced her to all her nearby family
  • Introduced her to heavy metal, industrial/EBM, synth-thrash and NPR comedy programs
  • Watched her focal range expand so that she’s now fascinated with the world rather than continuously screaming about it

It was a good seven weeks.

- Devin

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