When Your Fussy Baby Refuses the Carrier

Friday, September 11, 2015

"Fussy babies miss the womb. This is the infamous 'fourth trimester' and you must do your best to replicate a womblike atmosphere. Carrying your baby is the easiest way to do this- simply strap or wrap on a carrier, tuck your infant in, and go about your day!"

So easy and crunchy granola, right? Riiiiiiight.

I read this and similar statements a thousand times before Calvin was born. I fully expected him to not be a fussy baby (!) but I wanted to carry him with me at all times regardless- I knew I would miss having him with me when I went back to work and I wanted to take full, cuddly advantage of my maternity leave. I had visions of carrying my sweet babe around in slings and snuggly, complicated soft wraps, his body molded to mine, his face protected from the prying eyes of strangers. I knew, in my bones, that I was a baby carrying kind of mama. No stroller for me, thanks.

Then Calvin was born I knew immediately that he was a little different from other babies that I had known. He seemed somehow more there, more aware of the fact that he was a helpless infant. And he haaaaated it. Things that other babies enjoy- like laying on their mamas chest, cooing from vibrating chairs or peeking out at the world from a cozy mama-facing carrier- just pissed Calvin off.

While before he was born my visions of baby carrying were a choice, after meeting Calvin I realized it was a must for two reasons: the first is when he is awake, he wants to be on the move. There is no sitting or laying and holding an awake Calvin. He will loudly (as in, the neighbors must think I'm physically harming him in some way) make his preference for constant movement be known. This takes the form of endless house cruising and freuquent neighborhood walks when the afternoon cools enough to survive the mid summer out of doors.

The second reason is that seats, pillows and various other infant type perches (even ones that move or vibrate) are wholeheartedly unacceptable to Calvin. It is my impression that his immobility frustrates him, which I completely understand. Steve jokes that we have an entire graveyard of baby seats, swings and chairs that Calvin has tried and rejected. This is true. Mama will buy/try anything to have five peaceful minutes in the bathroom.

Hence, a carrier is a must.

The few times I've successfully carried Calvin in a backwards (that is, towards me) facing carrier, the way infants "should" be carried, was when he was asleep when I tucked him into it, took a quick walk, and took him back out, contorting myself like a silent ninja the entire time, lest he wake. In other words, he was unconscious for the entire experience. If awake, he will contort his neck and body in impossible, awkward positions, trying to turn and face what is oncoming, screaming the entire time. Staring at my neck or chest, legs and arms not freely mobile, simply is not on his agenda.

Finally, a couple weeks ago, I stopped trying to convince Calvin that young babies are supposed to be carried facing their moms and I embraced the fact that I have a baby that wants to engage in the world from an unusually young age. Front facing baby carrying shamers be damned.

I youtubed 'how to front face carry infant' and found a way to wrap Calvin into our boba so that he can greet the world while we trek around the neighborhood. He gets to swing his arms and legs like a prize fighter and gaze at whatever he pleases until he drops into a gentle nap. He loves it. And, as I always knew I would pre-baby, I love carrying him.

One of the many lessons Calvin has taught me in the few short weeks he's been ex-utero is that parenthood laughs in the face of our plans and expectations. Learning to take each day and moment as they come is not only necessary for survival, it is the key the endless joy and wonderment your baby will unlock in your life. And that's what it's all about at the end of the day.

So, kiss your fussy baby, strut your MacGyvered carrier wrap and just roll with it, mama.

On Being a New Mom

Sunday, September 6, 2015

Motherhood. This is a word I always associated with my own mother- mumsie or mum as I call her. Still now, with a sleeping seven week old in the bedroom, I don't feel as though that word applies to me. That somehow I haven't earned it yet?

Motherhood is crying as you hold your precious 4 day old son because you miss having him in your belly so much. It is missing your newborn when your baby is only seven weeks old. It is losing the meaning of time and yet being painfully aware of its passage.

Motherhood is an exhaustion so deep and aching you could never imagine it before experiencing it. It is not being able to fall asleep despite said exhaustion because you can't stop staring at the beautiful, perfect, sweet little face sleeping next to you as you drink in each of his delicious, milky breaths.

It is hating yourself because you want to run away from his endless cries. It is resenting the pre-mama you for thinking this would be all sweet baby cuddles and, you know... easy!

Motherhood is missing your work and resenting that you have a job that will take you away from him even for a second. It is sobbing with him as painful gas bubbles wreak havoc on his tiny bowels; giving up all your favorite foods and more in the hopes you will find the villain causing those bubbles.

It's calling your own mother in tears and asking her if it is okay that this isn't everything you imagined and that it is so, so much harder and more confusing than anyone could have prepared you for.

It is letting go of the baby you pictured before he got here and falling in love with the one you gave birth to. It is staring for hours at tiny body parts that change too fast. It is feeling his hands resting on your chest and gripping you close as he nurses and wanting this to never end; wanting to somehow capture that moment and every other so you can drink them in over and over for the rest of your life.

After all I've done and endured in this life- losing loved ones, moving far from family, medical school, switching residencies- becoming a mother is the most confusing, painful and outright hardest thing I've ever attempted. And yet I desperately clutch at every second, deeply mourning my loss as each moment slips past in an unrelenting march.

That, friends, is being a mom.

On Stress: The Gory Details

Monday, February 16, 2015

   I think most of us can say similar things about our dear friend stress: we fear it, acknowledge it, try and deal with it and ultimately accept it as a daily companion, like a pesky shadow you just can't shake.

   Every step of our lives seems to come with admonishments to reduce and manage stress. I was particularly inundated with tales of medical students being consumed by stress, fables and urban legends about the first year student who finally lost it after an anatomy final and was never seen again. And of course it only gets worse when you become a resident: not only are you still responsible for a behemoth mountain of ever evolving information but now you have real live patients relying on your decisions and abilities. Adding a pregnancy (and subsequent newborn) to this mix may seem to some a wee bit reckless, nay, foolhardy?

   And yet.

   I am a true believer that work, money and those annoying details like crushing medical school debt are merely the means to a full life, NOT the focus of life. I acknowledge these details can be scary and deserve attention, but I also realize how easy it is to slip into what I call a problem focused life. I heard it a million times in medical school: 'Just three more years, then it gets better.' 'Just one more year then I'll be a resident and it'll be better.' Then residency came and I was probably more surprised than I had any right to be when I heard the very same sentiments from my fellow residents: 'Just three years of residency, then I'll be working and it'll be better.'

   One of the reasons I finally scrounged up the courage to change specialties mid residency was the simple fact that I really listened to the people I worked with and I realized one day that I was starting to tell myself the same things they were telling themselves: just a few more years, then I can be happy. No sir. Life doesn't work that way. Happiness and life happen now, not in five years. And if it's not, you better slow down and figure out why.

   Aside from the major life changes we may need to face, stress management is, in my humble pathologist's opinion, a micro activity. It is something that happens in the million teeny decisions we make every day that add up to a surprising artillery against the things that make our cortisol soar and our sleep restless. It's enjoying your breakfast quietly without checking your long suffering bank account. It's snugging up to your favorite work out DVD rather than stare at your computer and suffer through another five slides on the powerpoint that can wait until tomorrow. It's consciously dismissing that snarky comment your coworker winged at you and choosing to hug your spouse for an extra few minutes before you settle into the reassuring routine of making dinner.

    Back to my original question: adding a pregnancy and baby to the mix? For sure foolhardy! But life waits for no one and remember what I said about delicious, chubby, infant thigh rolls in my last post? At the end of the day most of the things we let stress us out are just gory little details. And details are never as beautiful as the big picture. Especially when there's a sweet smelling baby to be added to it.

   And for those moments that just get the best of you, I advise generous portions of this chocolate pudding. I blended it in the vitamix longer than the original recipe recommended and was rewarded with the most spectacular, airy yet dense love child of luscious pudding and ethereal mousse. Get on it.

Dark Chocolate Pudding
Serves 8. Or 6 in need of stress reduction.
Slightly modified from Melissa Clark  
  • 1 large egg, plus 2 yolks 
  • 6 ounces bittersweet chocolate (70% percent cacao, broken into pieces)
  • 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cubed into several pieces
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 
  • 2 ½ cups whole milk 
  • ½ cup heavy cream  (plus additional for serving)
  • cup plus 2 tablespoons firmly packed brown sugar 
  • 2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder 
  • 2 tablespoons cornstarch 
  • ¼ teaspoon fine sea salt
  • Freshly whipped sweetened cream with a dash of vanilla extract, for serving
   Place the chocolate and butter in your blender. Set aside.
   In a small heat proof bowl, whisk together the egg and egg yolks. Set aside.
   In a heavy bottom sauce pan, whisk together the milk, heavy cream, brown sugar, cocoa powder, corn starch and salt. Bring to a slow simmer over medium heat, whisking the whole time. Simmer for 2 minutes (and no more). Remove from heat and slowly whisk some (about 1 1/2 cups) of the hot custard into your eggs until the eggs are heated up (this tempers the eggs and prevents them from scrambling when you add them into the rest of the custard). Scrape the tempered eggs into your sauce pan, whisking the whole time. Return to low heat and whisk until the pudding is quite thick and steaming. This should take only a minute or two. And do not stress if you see it getting a little grainy or curdled! The blender is to the rescue.
   Scrape all of the hot custard into your blender on top of the chocolate and butter. Turn blender on, bring it to high, and blend for a full 3 minutes. It will look a little frothy. Turn off blender and pour the custard into serving ramekins or cups of your choice. You can also pour into one big serving bowl but that's not nearly as fun or cute.
   Chill in the fridge, uncovered, for at least 4 hours before serving. If making a day ahead, cover with plastic wrap once fully chilled.
   Serve with generous dollops of sweetened whipped cream and a sigh of appreciation for life that includes this pudding/mousse love child.

A little update... Naval orange size, to be exact

Monday, February 9, 2015

   The last time I took a blogging hiatus, there was a beautiful wedding to share with you and a couple other fun things around the house and backyard.

   This time...

   Too many enchiladas? Nope... that's a 'lil baby!!

   After months of talking, day dreaming and a for serious case of Instagram baby envy, Steve and I decided to take the plunge and when we surfaced, there suddenly were three of us under this here roof.

   Did you know that Instagram will tell you when you're ready to have a baby? It's true! I never would have guessed this, but sure enough, one day I noticed nearly all of my suggested feeds were photos of colorfully dressed baby bumps and delicious infant thigh rolls.

   Give. Me. More. Delicious. Infant. Thigh. Rolls. Sigh.

   To add to the excitement, my sister and bestest friend in all the world (outside of my beloved Steve, of course), Nicole, is also preggo! Not only that, but due a mere ten days before my little bundle of sweet smelling joy. And we didn't even tell each other we were 'trying.' I tell you, life can boggle the mind in the most spectacular, unexpected and wonderful ways.

   With the exception of my little sister, Bonnie, finding out super early (Nicole's husband desperately knocking a wedge of brie out of her hand in front of the ever observant Bonnie does let ones cats out of the bag), we kept it a secret from our families until Christmas when Nicole and I handed our parents a wrapped double frame of their grandbabies first ultrasounds. It was easily one the most special moments of my entire life.

   With all this baby talk going on, will this turn into a baby blog? Maybe. I might like that. At the end of the day this blog is about putting good food on the table and ruminating on life. I love that my ruminations now focus mainly around this squirmy baby in my belly, and so you betcha that will become a frequent focus of future blog posts.

   Speaking of adding baby stuff to the blog, behold! My first bump/pregnancy update. I fully admit these kinds of posts are my favorites to read in other women's blogs, and they were long before I knew I wanted to have babies. I think getting a glimpse into what it's like for another person to grow and bring a fresh little life into the world is just the coolest thing. And now it's my turn!

   Right now I'm 15 weeks and I have to say (knock on wood) I pretty much adore, love, relish being pregnant. It's the bees knees. For the first ten weeks or so I was pretty tired, but nothing I didn't expect given that I was, you know, growing a whole new set of organs plus that weirdo bonus one we all know and love, the placenta. I had a few gooey run ins with eggs that left me a bit green around the gills, but other than that the first trimester was no sweat. It doesn't hurt that I wholeheartedly embrace any situation in which multiple daily naps are not only acceptable, but encouraged.

   Now that the second trimester is already underway, the fatigue has totally lifted and I feel like my old self except with a grapefruit sized bulge poking out just under my belly button. One that occasionally twitches and pokes in the most adorable fashion. I use this bulge as an excuse to live exclusively in pants of the stretchy variety. It's pretty awesome.

   So far baby has a narrow list of likes: car rides, hitting 'snooze' in the morning and belly rubs provided by her papa. She rewards these activities with exuberant little taps that it took me a week or so to realize weren't gas bubbles. Only today I noticed that the taps are gaining strength and now occasionally feel like full on twitches and rolls. Every movement is immediately filed under 'best feeling of my entire life.'

   Also, for me, pregnancy requires multiple super crisp, super tart, organic granny smith apples per day. I've eaten at least twice per day since around week 3. You're welcome, granny smith apple farmers of North America. This bebe and I sure do love you guys.

   I would say the only thing I found to be absolutely not true according to the pregnancy update apps and websites is you absolutely do not get bladder volume back in the second trimester. That was a dirty stinkin' lie. But that's ok; I needed more excuses to get up from my desk and walk around anyway. It's good for the heart.   

   So that's the first 15 weeks of lil baby's life in a nutshell. We already love him/her most fiercely and are trying to remember every single sweet second of our life as a family of three.

   I'll be back soon with some posts on how I'm trying to eat healthfully while pregnant, my favorite exercise DVD I may be slightly obsessed with, and some general insights into living life as as a resident and pregnant lady. Stay tuned.