This Week Extra Utero: 2

It's kinda cool that every Tuesday just after class, Sam is another week older:

Not only is your baby better and better at eating, he or she may also be getting better and better at crying (and who would have thought there was room for improvement in that department!). As you've already discovered, babies usually cry to communicate their needs — and most often will stop crying when those needs are met (though for crying out loud, some crying is just for the sake of crying…lung practice anyone?). But some newborns — 15 to 20 percent — have prolonged, inconsolable crying fits, often beginning in the early evening and lasting at least three hours. Known as colic, such crying generally starts at about three weeks of age, peaks at six weeks, and stops pretty suddenly after about three months. No one knows for sure what causes colic, but it's been linked to immature digestion, reflux, sensory overload (at this age, babies haven't developed the ability to tune out when they've had enough sights and sounds), and milk supply problems (the crying occurs most often at the end of the day, when Mom is more likely to be running low).

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Crying's not the only item on the agenda this week. By week's end, your baby's muscle control is looking a little more mature, making those movements a bit more fluid than they were when you first brought your newborn home. Sleeping patterns are slightly more predictable (but don't get used to them; they'll change soon enough). Also, babies now have periods of quiet alert time, where they stay both awake and aware, taking in the world around them. (This quiet-alert frame of mind is actually the best time for one-on-one socializing, so sing, coo, talk, and play with your baby). Give your baby black-and-white images, bold lines, and shapes to look at. You can also let your little one check out that beautiful baby face in a baby-proof mirror. Babies don't know at this point that it's their own reflection, but they like what they see.

It's been an interesting thing to watch Sam change since his birthday.  Even with all my babysitting and hanging out with friends' children and whatnot, I'd only see the munchkins after discreet chunks of time, so changes were abrupt.  Now it's a continuum for us, and each day brings some new little evolution with our newest family member: different poop color or consistency, more neck control, smoother muscle movements, greater alertness during awake periods, increased spontaneous smiles, etc.

What hasn't changed much is Sam's really chill demeanor.  He has put up with almost constant heel pricks, IVs, bright lights, etc, with more grace and dignity than I can usually muster.  There was that one time he fussed during a blood draw...for all of several seconds, and that time the phlebotomist swore he said "ow", but that's about it.

We've gotten his cues more or less down, so there's rarely been a time Sam lets out a really good cry for very long.  He hates wet diapers, natch, but appears to now understand that when Daddy is changing him it's counteproductive to wriggle and wail.  When he's hungry he shows us with his mouth, tongue and hands, so he gets Mommy's boob, stat.

Who knows why Sam is such a "good" baby (weird that we tend to equate quietness with goodness) or how long this situation will last?  Maybe he just has a calm personality that comes from a recessive genetic legacy not obviously manifest in Mommy and Daddy.  Maybe he'll become a hellion at 18 months or 18 years.  Not sure if we as parents can influence these developments in the slightest, and I guess it doesn't really matter.

Regardless, before Sam was born we decided to go with many elements of "attachment parenting":

[A] term coined by pediatrician William Sears—is a warm, fuzzy approach to raising children with respect and responsiveness to their needs (yes, even at 2 a.m. ... and 4 a.m. ... ). The focus is creating strong bonds between parents and their children to rear compassionate individuals. Dr. Sears promotes seven principles, or “attachment tools,” that he calls the “7 Baby B’s.”

In practice, these generally translate to families following a natural child-rearing style, favoring “crunchy” practices such as midwife-assisted delivery, extended breastfeeding, co-sleeping, cloth diapering, babywearing, alternative vaccination schedules and homeschooling.

In the United States, attachment parenting is viewed as a movement; however, in many ways, it's a return to parenting following mother's instincts.  Many of the practices—such as breastfeeding and babywearing—have been used throughout human history and are still common in other countries. In many parts of the world, families slumber together and women tote their tots in slings made from cloth or animal hide. In contrast, American babies spend two-thirds of their time detached from loving touch—in cribs, strollers, car seats, bouncers and other plastic contraptions. Interestingly, in places that utilize the practices of attachment parenting, colic—characterized by prolonged periods of inconsolable crying with no known cause—is unheard of.

While some principles of attachment parenting may sound intimidating (don’t worry, you don’t have to make a sling from animal hide!), others may be appealing. You may think babywearing is cuddly and fun, but cloth diapering gives you the heebie-jeebies. Or you may agree that breast milk is best for babies but want an obstetrician to welcome your bundle of joy. Attachment parenting isn’t all or nothing.  Dr. Sears encourages families like mine to understand the 7 Baby B’s and embrace the elements that match our values and lifestyle. We aren't protesting outside formula companies, lecturing new moms on the benefits of attachment, trashing doctors, or forcing a sling over anyone’s head, but we do question society-driven parenting norms and create our own M.O. that works for us.

We weren't attracted to attachment parenting and baby wearing just because it can help with colic, but that's a nice apparent benefit--we'll see how that goes in practice.  We really just love the idea of building trust with Sam and this seems to be the best way to go about it.  Obviously plans change when they meet reality, so our main philosophy--just as it was for our son's birth--is flexibility, though we're mostly going to err on the side of Fockerizing rather than Ferberizing (NB: that ain't for infants anyway).

I was having a little crisis of confidence regarding my wearing our infant since Sam looked so weird and awkward in my sling--damn, am I screwing up his airway, etc.  His pediatrician reassured me, however, and I suppose it will just take a little getting used to.

We have already gotten quite used to the family bed.  I've been using our co-sleeper simply as a bassinet on my side of the bed for temporary parking of the boy and for diaper changes.  It's just so cozy having Sam with us, and it's much easier to address his needs anyway (at midnight, 1am, 2am, 5am, 8am...).

Since Sam didn't seem to regress after the 24 hour moratorium on nursing last week at the hospital (to counter his "breast milk jaundice"), we started with the bottle last night.  Ericka pumped a good supply while I gave him formula and I broke into the stash at 5am to spell my beloved a couple times in the feeding milieu.  As tired as I was this morning, I can't tell you how cool it was.

I've been admittedly jealous of Ericka, even though the breast feeding is extra work, because she naturally gets more connection with our child.  At least bottle feeding him lets me approximate that closeness, as well as more equitably dividing parental responsibilities.

On Monday the doctor made us laugh when she asked Ericka if I ever let her hold Sam.  I do try to carry him around as much as possible, perhaps to make up for that asymmetry I feel.  In fact, I carried him around Costco last week after his bili test (before the results came in), and it was a strange experience having so many people come up to me and ask about my son.

It was also strange being questioned so often about where our carrier was.  Like I was upsetting the cosmic balance by physically holding our baby rather than putting him in some plastic thing and adding extra carriage weight to my arm and shoulder--it was decidedly unnatural to just have an infant in my arms!

The most interesting, touching and frustrating thing has been all the kibitzing from well-intentioned strangers, friends and family.  As I've said, I do appreciate all the stories people have shared about tough pregnancies and deliveries, and how their children came through it all just fine.  I also appreciate advice because I am, obviously, a new parent and I like to learn and do a better job.

Sometimes, however, it just feels condescending and annoying.  How many more people need to tell us that we won't be getting much sleep for a long time?  Gee, really?  And all this fucking time we've been sleeping through the night without a care in the world, and nobody sent us the memo that babies cry in the night.  Oh, this will change our lives?  Shit, why didn't we think of that before we had a kid on a lark?

I get that people aren't consciously judging our parenting or assuming we're complete idiots who desperately need their sage advice, and having read a lot of books that have warned me of this phenomenon, I intellectually know I shouldn't bristle.  But this sleep-deprived daddy does get a little bugged during moments of weakness.

Philosophically it bothers me because it's almost like people are telling us how it not only will be, but should be, as though we aren't capable of having our own parenting experience and Sam can't possibly have his own destiny to realize.  He'll get colicky in a few weeks.  He'll be a demon running around and tiring you out at 18 months.  He'll be a sullen teenager.  Whatever.

One invites such things walking around in public with a baby or blogging about their new lives.  I would just like to have a chance to get to know my son as he gets to know us, and himself.

ntodd