Dear Patrick,
You are two months and one day old today, my little monkey! No, I’m not already falling behind on writing your monthly letter, I just wanted to wait until after your two month appointment with the pediatrician. You appointment was this morning and I don’t think either of us was happy to be there. But we both survived your vaccines and you only cried for a little while. Thankfully, you are napping peacefully now.
You’re now in the 90th percentile for weight, length and head circumference. As the doctor said—you couldn’t be more perfectly proportioned. As far as I’m concerned, you couldn’t be more perfect! Of course, I do wish you weighed just a little less. You’re at thirteen and a half pounds now, almost five pounds heavier than you were at birth! My poor back and shoulders protest when I have to haul you and your car seat in and out of your father’s truck. But you’re my big boy and I’m so grateful you’re healthy.
It’s hard to believe it’s been two months (and one day) since you were born. Those early weeks are a bit of a blur of exhaustion, frustration and—when I wasn’t tired or frustrated—moments of quiet joy. It was a roller coaster ride of getting to know you, learning how to take care of you and adjusting to the incredible changes you have brought to my life. After your father left, it was all I could do to take care of you and myself and the pets. I’m happy to say the second month has brought a little less exhaustion, a lot less frustration and more moments of joy.
I’m also getting more sleep at night than I was a month ago because you’re sleeping better. Right now, you sleep four to four and a half hours when I put you down for the night, followed by a two to three hour stretch after a bottle, followed by another hour to hour and a half before you’re up for the day. You nap pretty well during the day, but the naps are getting a little shorter as you are waking up to the world around you and don’t want to miss anything.
You’ve learned a few new things in the past month. First of all, you’re really smiling! It was hard to tell before if it was a smile, a grimace or gas, but now I’m sure of the real smiles. You don’t smile every time you see me, but when you do it melts my heart. I never get tired of those toothless, lopsided grins. So far, you’ve only giggled once while you were awake (and I have to say, giggling in your sleep is a little creepy) and it was while I was putting on your bib. You do enjoy eating! (You take after your mama, I think.) I’m looking forward to hearing your laughter on a regular basis.
You have become more “interactive” in the past few weeks, much to my delight. You coo and babble now, your little fist shoved into your mouth—sometimes both of them at once. Putting your hand in your mouth used to signal your hunger, now you do it just because you can—and it seems to make you so happy. You look at me more often and for longer stretches and, like your smiles, I look forward to the future when you seek me out to watch me instead of looking at me only because I’m right in front of you.
In the past month, I’ve gotten you a swing and an activity play mat, both of which entertain you. I didn’t think you would take to the swing, but after a bit you seemed to enjoy watching everything moving around you. Oh, and it has the added benefit of rocking you to sleep when you’re feeling fussy. You just got the play mat yesterday, but you immediately started wiggling and kicking to the sounds and lights and little dangling toys. You love riding in the truck and looking around (though the motion eventually lulls you to sleep) and I think you’re starting to make the connection between being put in your car seat and going for a ride in the truck.
I feel like you’re growing up too fast right before my eyes, baby. You don’t fit into any of your newborn outfits anymore and it makes me sad. In fact, you are wearing a few 3 to 6 month and 6 month outfits already, though they’re a little big. But despite your growth spurt, you’re still a little baby. You still put your fist in the air—power to the people!— accompanied by the super serious expression you get sometimes, your little mouth turned down at the corners in disapproval. You can’t hold your head up for more than a few seconds yet, but you’re getting better at it ever day (and get soooo frustrated when it wobbles in the opposite direction of where you want to look). You still love to stare at the ceiling fan (I think the fan is as exciting to you as your play mat, actually) and looking at the lamplight or sunlight through the window. I can’t wait for spring so I can take you outside!
As of yesterday, I can finally count on two hands the total number of hours I’ve been away from you—8! I think you’ll be getting a regular babysitter soon, at least part-time. I miss my writing schedule and it’s hard to haul you around on errands. I think I might like to go back to teaching in the fall and even if it’s only online I will still need blocks of time to work. Of course, I don’t know yet how I’m going to leave you with someone else on a regular basis. It’ll be good for both of us and it’ll be harder for me than for you, I’m sure. But I know you don’t really want to go to doctor’s appointments and the grocery store with me, right? (I’ll still take you to Starbucks, of course!)
I don’t know exactly when it happened, but sometime in the past month I fell in love with you, Patrick. It wasn’t love at first sight for me like it was for your father. Is that horrible to admit? By the time I fell in love with you as my baby bump, it was almost time for you to be out in the world. So it’s taken me a little while to get to know you on the outside of my body, but I’m in love with you now, little boy. How could I not be? You are so amazing. We talk to your father everyday on my laptop so he can see you and you can see and hear him—and you do respond to his voice, even if his image is a little blurry on the screen sometimes—and I tell him how you’re doing and how incredible you are. He misses you, but I’m excited for him because I know he’s going to fall in love with you all over again when he gets home.
Two months have flown by and I know that it’ll be December before I know it and you’ll be turning a year old. Don’t grow up too fast, sweet boy. As much as I’m looking forward to all the things you’ll be able to do in the next month, and in six months, and in a year… I want to enjoy what you can do right now and savor these moments with you. The cuddles and the coos and your little hand on mine are all I need right now.
Happy two month birthday, baby. Mama loves you.
Patrick is two months old today. Doesn’t he look happy?
The awesome play mat is the Baby Einstein Around the World Play Gym.
I’m delighted that Best of the Best Women’s Erotica 2 will be out next week! The fabulous and talented Violet Blue selected my story “Call Me” from a previous edition of Best Women’s Erotica for inclusion in this best of the best collection.
In the introduction, Violet has this to say about my story:
In Kristina Wright’s wonderful and hot “Call Me” an accident leads to a furtive fantasy come true when an obscene phone call goes delightfully awry.
“Call Me” was a fun story to write because it’s mostly dialogue and there is no physical contact between the characters. But it’s still sexy, with a dash of humor. Here’s the opening:
Claire dialed the number before she lost her nerve. The phone rang and she switched hands to wipe her damp palm across the sheet.
“Hello?” It sounded like he’d just woken up.
“Hi,” she said, trying for a sultry voice. “It’s me.”
“Bad connection,” he mumbled. Static crackled across the line.
She frowned. That wasn’t what he was supposed to say. She tried again. “I’ve missed you.”
“You have?”
“Yes. And this is an obscene phone call.”
“Really?” he sounded more awake now, but not quite himself. “Sounds intriguing.”
“Mmm… I promise you won’t be disappointed.”
“Well, sweetheart, where do we start?”
Something wasn’t right. The static on the line made it impossible to hear him clearly. “Sam, let me call you back. This is a lousy connection.”
“Who’s Sam?”
“Oh my God—” It wasn’t Sam. She had just propositioned a stranger.
“Hey, no, it’s okay,” he said quickly. “Don’t hang up.”
She hung up.
Claire stared at the phone, waiting for it to ring. She shook her head and picked up the receiver, carefully dialing the number Sam had given her. The phone rang twice.
“Change your mind?” There was humor in his voice. Humor and a warm familiarity that reminded her of late-night radio dee-jays.
“I’m sorry,” she managed to say. “I’m trying to call someone else.”
“So I gathered.”
“My boyfriend, actually.”
“Lucky guy.”“I’m sorry,” she said again, feeling like an idiot. A horny idiot.
“I’m not.” He chuckled. “So tell me, do you make a lot of obscene phone calls?”
She laughed. “Not hardly. This is my first.”
“You mean we’re still on?”
Patrick goes for his two-month appointment-- which will include vaccinations-- on Friday. Before I had a baby, I was aware there was controversy over vaccines and a possible connection to autism. Now that I’m a parent, I’m paying more attention to the reasons behind the controversy. I found this NPR article interesting, though it only complicates the debate:
Lancet Renounces Study Linking Autism and Vaccines
It took 12 years, but the medical journal the Lancet has retracted once and for all a controversial paper that drew a link between vaccines and autism and helped fuel a backlash against immunization of children.
A 1998 Lancet paper reported on a dozen kids who developed various behavioral and intestinal problems. Eight of them had been vaccinated with a combination shot against measles, mumps and rubella.
Dr. Andrew Wakefield, the lead investigator, brought international attention to the paper by saying he thought the MMR vaccinations were to blame. The assertions chipped away at confidence in vaccination.
It later emerged that Wakefield had been taking money from a lawyer suing vaccine makers. The results of his study couldn’t be replicated.
For the record, we’ve always intended to get Patrick vaccinated. The benefits of the vaccines outweigh the risks of not vaccinating. But that doesn’t mean I won’t worry. It would be nice if the issue wasn’t blurred by medical professionals-- on either side of the debate-- who have something to gain from deceiving the public about the risks.
Today was another one of those days when Patrick napped a lot and right on schedule, taking two 3-hour naps, a 1 and 1/2 hour nap and is now taking another short nap before I put him down for the night. Which will ideally mean one 4ish-hour stretch, one 2ish hour stretch and maybe a 1-2 hour stretch in the morning. But experience tells me it’ll be less because he’s napped so much today. (Which means I probably should have taken a nap myself to compensate for tonight, but a) I don’t always know he’s going to nap this well and b) I’m so happy to have time to get a bunch of stuff done that I don’t even think about sleeping.)
I read somewhere that babies tend to function on a 48-hour schedule and that if they sleep a lot one day, they’ll be awake a lot the next. That seems to be true for Patrick. He slept like this on Saturday, but was awake most of Sunday. It’s not so bad, especially if he’s not particularly fussy. It’s tiring, having no one to hand him to so I can get a few things done, which can be frustrating if there are things I need (or want) to do. But he’s getting more interactive (for lack of a better word) and I enjoy watching him watch the world. Of course, he often has long periods of fussiness on the days when he sleeps less and that’s no fun for either of us. I’ve also read that young babies shouldn’t be awake for more than 90 minutes at a time, otherwise they get overtired and overstimulated. There seems to be some truth in that and I try to put him down for a nap at the 90 minute mark if he’s not showing any signs of going to sleep on his own. It doesn’t always work.
I got some writing in on Saturday while Patrick napped, but it was impossible to write yesterday since his naps were in the 30 to 45 minute range. That’s just not enough time for me to focus on anything. (And I had other things to do during those short naps, like feed the pets, take a shower, do a load of laundry, etc.) What’s worse, it’s terribly frustrating to think he might sleep for a couple of hours and sit down hoping for a decent stretch of writing time and then have to quit after a few minutes. I’ve learned that if I get a day like today, with long stretches of time to be productive, I shouldn’t waste it. I’ve also learned that I shouldn’t expect to get two days like this in a row. So I know tomorrow will likely be one of those days where he’ll be up most of the day and some of that will be fussy time. Sigh.
I keep going back and forth over childcare. I never expected to be the full-time, sole care provider, and that was whether Jay was home or deployed. I need to write and I think I want to go back to teaching in the fall. I can write at home on days when he naps well, but that’s not predictable enough for me to have a real writing schedule. It will also get harder as he gets older and is awake more often. I’m not comfortable putting him in daycare, mostly for the health issues that seem to plague kids who are in daycare. He’s just so little and I’m not in a hurry to expose him to colds and illness when I don’t have to. Plus, I’ve grown rather fond of our time together-- especially as he’s getting older and learning to play-- and I don’t want to lose that.
I’m looking at part-time care, in my house. I can’t see taking him to someone else’s house-- I just don’t think I would ever trust a stranger that much. I’m not even sure I trust a stranger in my own house, but I would feel like I have more control over the situation (and could spend part or all of the childcare hours at home writing/working, or drop in and out over the course of those hours). It’s expensive, having a nanny. The going rate here is around $10 to $15 an hour, which I know is cheaper than it would be in a big city. That’s not expensive out proportion to the work-- I know that even an easy baby requires a tremendous amount of energy and enthusiasm. And I’m a big believer in the adage that you get what you pay for. I have no desire to skimp when it comes to making sure my baby is taken care of. I did balk at the referral fee that a nanny agency charges. I realize that’s how they make their money, but… wow. It’s a lot.
I wish I could hire someone I know rather than a stranger. I’m dragging my feet on this even though I really, really need the help simply because I’m having a hard time with the idea that a stranger will be in my house, taking care of my son. Whether I’m here or not, that’s just hard for me to accept right now. I know it’s just new-mommy apprehension, but it’s also my personality: I don’t trust easily and I don’t like having people in my personal space. But for the month of January I had five hours away from baby. That’s it. And those five hours (over three different days) were spent getting my hair colored, going food shopping and visiting friends and their new baby in the hospital. All three times, I felt like I was rushing through what I was doing (and driving too fast to get there and back) because I don’t like asking people for favors. I hate thinking that Patrick is crying and someone-- a friend-- can’t calm him. Not because I’m worried about Patrick (okay, a little), but because I hate inconveniencing others and I know a crying baby is no fun. So, even though I made the most of those five hours and enjoyed the brief breaks away, it wasn’t relaxing and it wasn’t enough. I need more.
I don’t feel like I can ask a friend to watch the baby while I go to Starbucks and drink coffee and write. Or go to a movie. Or get a massage. I feel like whatever babysitting offers I get from friends should be used to run errands and do chores, not write and relax. Don’t ask me why. I guess that’s another (annoying) aspect of my personality: I don’t like asking for favors. If I ask for a favor, it’s because I feel like there’s something I really need to do. And as much as I really need to have some time to myself, alone with a coffee, a book to read and my laptop, I won’t ask someone to babysit so I can have it. (Even if I had a long list of potential babysitters-- which I don’t. I barely have a short list.)
So, at some point, when I’ve hit my wall (which apparently hasn’t happened yet, despite the constant state of exhaustion and occasional crying jags and feeling like I have absolutely no life and I’m never going to write again), I will hire someone to take care of Patrick for around 20 hours a week. That seems like so much time, in contrast to 5 hours in 31 days. I can’t even imagine it, right now. It would be so much easier (relatively speaking) if I had a job to go to. An office somewhere that was waiting for me to come off maternity leave and get back to work. But the writing and editing, and even the teaching, are flexible and subject only to my own self-imposed schedules and deadlines. I have to write. I just have to. And I know that some of my depression-- because that’s what it is, no matter how I dress it up-- is because I’m not writing and because I don’t have a regular schedule to do the work that is important to me.
Patrick is waking up from his last nap of the day and it’s time for a bottle and a story (and maybe a song) and those happy little sounds he makes while he eats, with his little hand resting on mine. I never get tired of those moments. For tonight, at least, the writing can waiting.
What’s it all about?
Life. Love. Writing. Editing. Sex. Books. Romance. Movies. Friendship. Photography. Teaching. Coffee. (Lots of coffee.) Travel. Feminism. Academia. Insomnia. Memories. Experiences. Rants. Raves. Reviews. Chocolate. Mmm… chocolate. Musings of an insomniac writer. Want to know more?
