Week of June 25, 2002
The Challenge.
A year ago, we had a baby. We expected it to be stressful and overwhelming, and also wonderful. While having a baby IS wonderful, it was even more stressful than we imagined, and it took a while for us to stop feeling overwhelmed. Reading about sleep deprivation doesn't convey the fog that overtakes you, or the feelings of inadequacy that spring forth from having to be high-functioning 24/7. I didn't realize how much I would pine for physically touching my husband. One of us was always holding a baby, holding hands wasn't even an issue. Time for relating was shunted for sleep whenever possible, we were so tapped out. While I knew the housework would slide and my relationship would get sidelined initially, I wasn't prepared for my life being slid into the sidelines for so long, as we worked on babycare. At first we were flat out, learning what we were doing, and then it dawned on us that even once we knew what we were doing, caring for a baby was full time work. We'd added a 2nd and a 3rd shift to our lives, forever.
It's hard to be prepared for the way absolutely everything changes.
When I was pregnant, we'd run into parents and they'd warn us in the same way, "your whole life will change." They'd be quick to add that it was wonderful, but it always seemed like a qualification they added when they saw our anxious faces. We'd listen, and just smile nervously. Having read all we could, we felt we were as prepared as we could be, that we'd handle it. Perhaps that kind of naivete is necessary for surviving the transition. Or perhaps not everyone is as overwhelmed as we were.
The Happiness
I love Owen completely. Utterly and without qualification, with all my heart. He is the best thing that has ever happened to me, save for marrying Scott. It is a love unlike anything else I've experienced - being the center of someone's world, having an innocent, trusting creature look up at you, relying on you for everything, learning about the world and how to operate within it. But this relationship took some time to develop. I didn't fall in love with him at his birth, rather, I felt responsible for him and touched by his helplessness. I loved him on faith, initially. He didn't particularly know who I was, beyond the person with the spigots. I'm sure he was glad that I was there, but my presence was necessary for his physical survival more than anything else To my delight, his awareness broadened beyond my breasts. I began to get to know this lovely creature, and he got to know me, and his father, and the world around him. That's when the true thrills began, when at last we got to know who he was and were able to love him for Him. We discovered his likes and dislikes, how he preferred to be comforted, what made him smile and laugh. And the more we knew, the more we loved him. Or love grew deeper with the knowledge of him.
It's always bothered me that parenthood seemed like an exclusive club, and there was the smug assumption that you had to experience it to understand it. With the addition of a child to your life, suddenly you have a pass to this secret society. I assumed this was just paranoia of being childless (or childfree), but now that I'm on the other side, there's some truth to this feeling. Other parents say hi as you go by, and there's a certain recognition between you. You see a whole world that you once overlooked. When you take on the responsibility for a child, the world becomes larger than it was, and everything seems different.
Perhaps this recognition between parents is just acknowledgement of a shared ordeal and understanding of what you've experienced so far. I couldn't know what it was like to be a parent before I became one, but I also couldn't know what it was like to be in medical school or in residency. Or to captain a boat through stormy weather into port. There are lots of things I haven't experienced and can't truly know, reading of it give you insight, but it's still second hand. I thought college let me glimpse functioning on little sleep, but I was so wrong…
What he's Doing
So what is Owen like, during this week of his first birthday?
He crawls with determination and speed, and cruises from hand hold to hand hold. He's started climbing as much as possible, on and off the couch, over Scott and I, whatever is handy. He likes to put his hands through the slats of the futon and bat at the Venetian blinds behind them. And I don't like the way he's eyeing the edge of the couch. He is cautious with the stairs, and spends a lot of time practicing on the first and second step. He's gotten quite good at getting himself down, and this is true on the couch as well. He figured out himself how to turn himself around and go down backwards, with one leg outstretched. He seems bent on mastering the small stuff before he goes on to the bigger challenges.
He's no longer obsessed with the bathroom. His inspections are more cursory now. Bathtime is no longer the joy that it was, just something he puts up with. If he can spend the whole time standing in the water and playing, he's much happier. He likes crawling in a big circle through the closet pantry. He enjoys standing against the kitchen gate (which if he finds open, he closes for us - we often have to run and fasten it safely before he stands against it). He's even tried to scale the gate and hang from his fingers once or twice. He loves putting things in and out of containers, on and off shelves - and this seems to have translated into opening and shutting doors. We try to help him so his fingers don't get caught in the process, but his fascination is endless so there's been a minor incident or two.
He loves his books. He's more impatient now, so often we have to skip through the favorite books quickly, to get to his favorite pages. He has no use now, for a bottle or drink before bed, only reading will make him happy. Embarrassingly, I think he likes best the books where Scott and I have to sing. Who knew I'd knew I'd know "Skip to My Lou" by heart? Or that I'd sing out loud? I have (had) a good memory, but my mental catalog of songs short circuits after the first half of the first verse. Then it's all humming. But I can see through repetition, I'll know more children's songs than I would have ever hoped.
Stats: Owen had his 12 months doctors appointment on 6/28/02, and was pronounced in excellent health. He had 2 shots (varicella and polio) with no tears (what a good nurse!). He also had to have blood drawn which was grueling for all of us. Nurses must dread having babies come in. His weight is 20 lbs., 13 ounces (20%), his height was 29 inches (25%) and his head circumference is 45 centimeters (10-25%). He's a long-torsoed kid, which makes up for the fact that his height (once at the 90% mark) has slipped to the 25th percentile. His legs are short, so we're usually on target for shirts, but are wearing a size behind for pants. Thank goodness it's season for shorts.
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