Maternal aphasia: Week Nine

In a few minutes I head out for a checkup, as the bleeding seems to have gotten heavier over the past day. It is nothing dangerous, and might even just be the (very early, very unwelcome) return of my period. Perhaps more than you bargained on reading about by coming here, but that's where I'm at.

Abe is sleeping on my chest after having used me, yet again, as a human pacifier/sleep aid. I love it too much to stop him. But I will need to start encouraging him to get to sleep on his own, in his own bed, in the next couple weeks, if we're ever going to get back to "normal." His weight gain is slow, so I'm loath to deny him any chance at the breast, which will stimulate more milk production.

Jonah is mercurial and bursts into tears at the slightest provocation. The whining is unreal and hard to stop and even harder not to reward with a response to his requests. Yesterday he drove the people in the checkout line at the food coop nuts with a persistent, whined request for a bialy that I was not going to buy him, since he'd already carbo-loaded with goldfish crackers and it was closing in on dinner time. I stood my ground, but it really sucked.

I think the permanence of the change in our family has finally set in. He isn't crazy about it, most of the time. But then he'll notice Abe and get all excited: "His eyes are open! Look! Hey, big guy!" All delivered in the breathy baby-talk voice he mimics from me. I want to believe it's not 100% pandering to Mama, that he actually takes some small measure of interest in his baby brother.

And me? Most of the time I feel alright. Until I have to, you know, go dress shopping for an upcoming family event. Then I feel like a horrible, fat, bleeding whale. Not looking forward to seeing myself in the photos from that album.

But it is undeniably spring, I have a wonderful family, and the sun is hitting the ginkgo leaves out the window and making them look gold. It's all going to be fine.

Maternal aphasia: Week Seven

Spring has hit hard. It's upwards of 85 degrees out there, sunny, the playgrounds are begging for sprinklers to be turned on. We hit the botanical gardens this morning, my boys and I. Some friends joined us but soon bailed out due to crankiness and the strength of the sun. I should be running in fear of my life from this sun and heat, but it seems like a brand new invention. Having a small baby strapped to me is not so comfortable in the heat, however - we both got home soaked. The search for a double stroller kicks into high gear starting now.

But on the way home I was overcome by the heat and my exhaustion, and made a panicked call to Josh who I thought could bail me out, Wednesdays being generally a less structured day for him. But a client called with an emergency, so he had to rush out. I felt totally bereft, all of a sudden. Then Jonah wanted to get out of the stroller and splash in the wake of a fountain in front of the museum, despite his sleepiness. I told him no, that we needed to get home, and he bawled for a few minutes. Then asked for an Italian ice, a red one, which I bought him, despite the fact that I knew he wouldn't touch it. I ate the ice, undoubtedly getting my lips and tongue day-glo red and looking to passersby like a pretty mean mom, for eating an ice while my stroller-bound child had none. Luckily Josh was still home when we got back, and helped me bump the stroller up the steps. Jonah sleeps there still, over an hour later, and I'm enjoying the breeze through the living room window and Abe's playmat noises.

The temporary panic was induced by the fact that tomorrow is seven weeks since I gave birth, and I continue to bleed. I have been warned not to exert myself; I do not know how to avoid it. Can one continually tell a 3 year old he can't go in the swing at the playground, because Mama is holding his baby brother and because he's too long to lift that high? So I cave, and lift, and then I bleed again. Tomorrow is my postpartum checkup, and I'm fully expecting to be sternly warned about exertions I can do little to avoid...

Maternal aphasia: Week Six

I just put Abe down in his crib asleep and walked out of the room. Not that remarkable, except that we haven't been doing this. In six weeks the babe has not slept more than 20 minutes in his crib. This needs to change, because we aren't human cribs, and six weeks old is a good time for a baby to start accepting certain home truths. Also: Mama is not your pacifier. Your pacifier is made of silicone and is called NUK, so please, stop spitting it out.

Jonah is on school vacation and I was dreading the three days alone with him and Abe before the weekend. I needn't have. Yesterday the weather was not good, and we all had a good time. Today the weather was phenomenal, and we all had a good time. Jonah was very affectionate with me today - perhaps he is starting to get back to his good old self? - and the number of times he used his ugly new catchphrase ("I don't like it!") was under five, I think. Compared with 25,000 times in previous days.

I wish I could find a way to nap during the day. Yesterday Jonah napped in the car, but Abe was awake, so I spent 90 minutes nursing him and hanging out with him in the front seat. Today was a stroller nap day, so at least we got to the corner cafe (where we ran into two people we knew - ah, Sesame Street), and I fortified myself with iced coffee. But there is no substitute for coming home, having Jonah nap in his bed, and getting some prone time for myself. Of course, in another 15 years Jonah will leave the house and I'll get regular naps and be sad about it...

Maternal aphasia: Weeks Five-Six

It caught up to me. Time. The lack thereof. I wondered when I'd fall off posting weekly, which is really not such a challenging thing. But Jonah is on school vacation, Abe is getting simultaneously more interactive and more demanding and more mercurial, and I am bone tired. I should get ready for bed right now, though getting ready for bed with a new baby in the house is more like being an actor dressing for the evening's performance.

The greatest innovation of the past couple of weeks has to be the smile. The photo above is not even the best example of it - it is strangely resistant to camera documentation. But it leaves its imprint right where it needs to - on my soul.

Maternal aphasia: Week Four

Abraham was named for a great-uncle on my father's side, who was killed in Poland during the Shoah. Another great-uncle, Yehuda, who escaped from the Nazis, eventually settled in Australia and wrote a memoir. Here is an excerpt:

My brother Abraham, with his wife Fenia and their beautiful eight-year-old daughter Shoshana, were killed in Siedlce during the “Aktion” there on 22 August 1942 (“Aktion” served as an euphemism for liquidation). All the people had to sit in the rubble and stones at the marketplace with their heads bent down for two days and nights, without a drop of water or any food in the squalor of those very hot August days.

Suddenly, Abraham got up and vehemently warned his fellow Jews of the fate that awaited them, urging them to fight and try to escape from the German assassins. Before he could finish, a salvo from a German machine gun killed him and his family, and probably others around them too. The Germans liquidated all the ghettos in that region and deported the Jews in cattle trains to nearby Treblinka, where already in 1942 the gas chambers and the crematoria worked around the clock.

This episode was described in “Yizkor Siedlce” (Memorial to Siedlce) by an eyewitness who survived the “Aktion” and the war. May their memory live for ever!

Maternal aphasia: Week Three

Illness struck the older brother this week, a virus that would not - and still has not - quit. Each day, I hoped against hope he could go back to school, and each day he didn't seem well enough. Last night he spiked a 104 degree fever, so today I finally took him to the doctor. It is just a virus, but I've never seen one stick to him for this long. Poor little buddy. The other night I made myself cry by imagining it was brought on by his broken heart. It hasn't been easy for him to be home with me all week, resenting how much of my time his baby brother takes up. He has said some very illuminating things in recent days, by way of expressing his feelings about Abe. One that sticks out in my mind is one he said in a whisper, then repeated out loud when I asked: "He can't live here." Why? I asked. "Because he doesn't know how to SLEEP." I'm amazed at his capacity for expression, even when what he expresses isn't exactly on the mark... His teacher called our home phone while we were out at the doctor today, and all the kids left a message saying they missed him and hoped he'd feel better soon. Reason #1003 why I love his school.

Baby Abey is on the receiving end of my overzealous dosages of fenugreek to boost my milk supply. For a couple of days at the beginning of the week, I was taking 12 610 mg capsules per day. I woke up Wednesday morning smelling like an Indian restaurant, and realized finally that Abe's frothy, bright chlorophyll-green poops were caused not by the minuscule amounts of formula I'd used to supplement for a couple of days, but in fact by an excess of that milk-producing herb. I have cut way, way back on the fenugreek, but his poops are still quite green. I'm hoping they switch back to the standard-issue butterscotch soon. He's been way gassy because of it, too. Bad mama. Also, having Jonah home all week has meant zero stimulation of Abe's baby senses, aside from the occasional colloquium while he's digesting. Looking forward to getting back to his "education" next week when we have some Jonah-free hours...

This week, I really wanted my mom here. Even with the horrendous conflicts we always seem to get into when she is here. She told me when I was pregnant that when I had another kid I would want to have her around, and she isn't wrong. It sure would be nice. But then I walk outside and run into people I know & like and feel that this is home. Living near my family, but in the suburbs, would not have the same feeling.

Maternal aphasia: Week Two

We got through the first week. The bleary eyes, the excess of house guests. The bris during a blizzard, still surprisingly well-attended. The second week = settling in. Stability. Reality. Some whopping good tantrums by older brother, usually at the same time (late afternoon), always with the same root causes (sleepiness, displacement). Wild hormonal swings of mama, but nothing requiring medication.

Right now it's quiet in the house - Jonah just left for a playdate at a friend's house - and Abe is sleeping in his fleecy lamb suit that's been on since we got back from our early morning doctor visit (he's as slow of a gainer as his brother was, causing me much angst but luckily not as much as last time around). And it's a sunny, warm day. And I am full of gratitude. I believe I got some sleep last night (always hard to say for sure). I've had some coffee. And I want to thank:

Josh - for being the partner in parenting that I wish every mom had. He does so much, and then finds a way to do more.

My friend Sara - who may read this eventually. Sara, you called at the precise moment I needed you to yesterday. Thank you for letting me vent. Thank you for reassuring me it will all be OK. I actually believe it will.

People who do good - and more specifically, in our case, the many parents at Jonah's school who know what we are going through and who have organized to bring us dinners. What an amazing community we've fallen into. I can't wait until my turn comes to reciprocate.

If I'm being totally honest here, I should probably thank myself too. Jonah's difficulty gaining weight when he was born was made all the more difficult by the fact that I shared our predicament with our families, which led to numerous daily phone calls to find out how he was doing, whether he was eating enough, and a downward spiral of advice-dispensing that left me really confused and vulnerable. As soon as I saw that we'd be dealing with the same thing this time around, I asked Josh to not discuss it, and as difficult as it is for me, I haven't discussed it with my parents either. I am reaping the reward now - a chance to help Abe get back to his birth weight without a Greek chorus of voices second-guessing everything I'm doing.