Months ago, a friend recommended that I should watch Under the Tuscan Sun, as it reminded her of the crossroads I faced in my life. Flipping through the channels, nursing my baby girl, I saw that the movie was just beginning at 10pm. Yes, I could watch that again.

Nearly two hours later (and many sappy tears), I remember why I did relate to this movie so much when I first watched it months ago. Life can hold so many surprises, and what we have planned — what we wish for — is often quite different from what we imagine it will be.

A year ago, I would have never dreamed that tonight I would be writing on a weblog about a baby girl that didn’t even exist in thought yet. That I would listen to her coos in the swing behind me, since she’s decided that even midnight might still be too early to sleep. (I knew missing a good nap today would hurt us!)

Being a single mom certainly wasn’t in my plans, yet it’s my reality. And, as difficult as it can be, I still wouldn’t trade it for the world. I have a beautiful little girl who gives me the opportunity to look at the world all over again. She encourages me to take a fresh view on life and on what it can be.

In this week’s Newsweek, Anna Quindlen wrote the “Final Word” column. I usually appreciate what she has to share, but this time, especially so. She describes her 16-year-old daughter, Maria, and how Maria grabs the reins of life — never considering that there are limits to what she can do and who she can become. The comment that stays with me — that her daughter makes her want to be a better woman. That, while she once aspired to be like her mother, she now wants to be like her daughter.

I can only hope for so much.

There is always hope - you never know what life might bring you.

Getting ready to walk the dogs…

While Maya is perfectly happy hanging out on her back, she abhors “tummy time.”

Why did you do that to me?

…that I actually really *like* diaper time? How could I not, when Maya’s usually on the table giving me smiles like this one?

Maya gets better and more fun each day. (Just expect me to say that one again and again!)

We finally saw the pediatrician on Tuesday the 7th, and she agreed that Maya does show all the telltale signs of reflux. Again, poor baby! Maya is now on Zantac 2-3 times per day, and the face she makes as I give her the syrup reminds me of that old green poison sticker with the yuck face. Blech - the stuff even smells bad. Since I’ve started pushing the syringe to the back of her tongue before giving her the syrup, she seems to not be quite as traumatized by icky medicine time.

As of 10 weeks, 5 days (12/7):
Weight: 9 pounds even (5th percentile)
Length: 23 inches (50th percentile)
Head: 14-7/8 inches (5th percentile)

Yes, my darling is long and skinny. To me, she seems like she’s putting on more weight more quickly since we started the medication - she’s getting a little belly again. Then again, she might well follow her usual pattern and stretch longer again, losing the belly. We’re visiting the doc again after 2 weeks for a weigh-in to see if her growth rate picks up any.

Really, I’m not too concerned about Maya’s size. Other than the heartburn pain, she seems to be doing really well both developmentally and in terms of health. I’m just glad to have her not hurting so much.

Changes this week:

Laughing. (I know, she’s done it before). We werer sitting on the sofa, Maya eating, when I realized she wasn’t sucking anymore. I looked down at her, and she was looking back, grinning. I asked what that was all about, and she just started to giggle. There’s no way to describe the wonder that is the first experimenting laugh of a baby. *sigh*

Growth. She’s growing out of her 0-3 month clothing! Since she’s such a shrimp in weight, I’d figured we’d stay in that size for a good long time. Nope. Her torso is so long, the tshirts with crotch snaps are beginning to pull at the neck. We don’t have to give them up just yet, but maybe by her 3-month birthday…

Testing limits. This one made me crack up. I was heading to the sofa to settle in with the boppy pillow to feed my hungry beast. I settled her on the sofa cushions so I could get ready, and immediately, out came the lower lip and the whining started. Instead of rushing and feeling guilty, I looked at her and stuck out MY lower lip and told her to get over it - she’d eat in a second. The kid laughed at me. Go figure.

Burlington Coat Factory officially rocks! They let me, without a
receipt, without the box return the swing my parents bought for Maya
and upgrade/exchange to the Aquarium cradle swing! Since she is
content as can be in the cradle swing at the gym, I’m hoping she’ll
like this one.

Back…

…and forth. Much better!

After a day like yesterday, comes a day like today. Maya has been an angel, and I got a lot of work done! Now it’s time to sit back, watch some TV or a movie, fold laundry, and marvel that I made this! She’s amazing.

Okay, I’ve finally realized what I’m dealing with, and I feel pretty stupid for not drawing the connection earlier. I think Maya’s dealing with GERD.

I’ve considered this before, because Maya spits up. A lot. We’re not talking about the occasional drool out of the side ofthe mouth. We’re talking about changing clothes three+ times a day, and that’s because 5-8 bibs have soaked through. We’re talking about my wondering how she gains any weight at all, she pukes so much back up. Nice image, eh?

Anyway, tonight, I realized that when she’d wake up from a five-minute sleep, it was because she spit up. And screamed like it was KILLING her. She’s fussed about spitting up before, but this is escalating. I revisited the sites about baby reflux, and whaddya know? She didn’t seem like it before (she was a “happy spitter” as the docs call them), but NOW she’s showing the signs.

The worst part is that I knew what she’s feeling, and it’s hell. I was diagnosed with GERD in 1999, and spent 2 years on (then prescription) Prilosec. The pain subsided enough in 2001 that I was able to abandon the meds…until pregnancy. Pregnancy brought a whole new level of pain. Once I went back onto Prilosec (yes, after confirming it was safe with motherisk.org), I felt a million times better. For a while. Toward the end of pregnancy, I couldn’t lay down flat until usually around 4-5am. If I did before that, I’d wake to find reflux coming out my nose and going into my lungs. Lovely. I do *not* miss that part of pregnancy. Who am I kidding, I don’t miss pregnancy AT ALL!

My poor baby is hurting, I know just what she’s feeling, and I can’t do a thing about it tonight. The good news is, Anthem finally sent my insurance card, and it arrived today. Fortuitous, no? We’ll see the doctor ASAP.

I’m sorry, Maya. You got mommy’s tummy.

By Jove, I think she’s got it! (Mommy can be a little dense sometimes.)

There comes a time when I have to seriously consider whom this blog is intended to benefit. Is it for Maya, so she can look back? Is it for family and friends? Or, just maybe, is it for me?

(Typing with one hand is painfully slow.)

One of the things I’ve loved most about blogging is the ability to be straight out honest. But, who am I kidding? Friends and family want to see the happy, fluffy moments…smiles, laughter (I didn’t get to say, but Maya laughed for the first time this past week), happiness. They don’t come here for me to process my feelings about being a single mom…how utterly terrifying it can be.

So, screw them all. I need to write for me. Today has been a day when I seriously question how/if I am going to make it.

Here I am, holding a baby who MUST be held in one arm, and typing with the opposite hand… Okay…I set her down, and maybe, just maybe, she’ll sleep for more than 2 minutes. Maybe? Please? She needs it. *I* need it.

I felt so proud of myself for how well I planned for this baby…I set money aside for time off. I paid the mortgage and HOA dues in advance so I wouldn’t owe during the first month. But the truth is, a month wasn’t anywhere near enough. November arrived, and I found myself needing to work, but clueless about how to manage that AND take care of a baby. To anyone who hasn’t had kids, or to *fathers* who’ve never been the primary care-giver, managing a baby sounds simple. I mean, how hard could it be to stay home and take care of a baby? *sniff* Whatever. Before Maya’s arrival, I felt mostly sure that I’d be able to work from home, so I could spend time with this precious little girl. Again: whatever.

Trying to work from home has been horrible. Granted, in the past few days, I’ve accomplished more than I would have thought possible. But then there’s a day like today. I’ve done nothing. Absolutely nothing. Oh, other than crying, that is. (So, of course, now my contacts are pretty gritty too, so even if I get the time to work, can I SEE to do it?) So, back to crying. Why crying? I honestly am not sure where this month’s mortgage is coming from. Now, I doubt Washingtom Mutual (or ditech, for that matter) will kick me out of my home for one late and/or missed payment. But for *&^%’s sake, I’ve gotten my credit clean. Have I worked this hard just to let everything fall apart again? Even the dispute with Gateway/Citibank has FINALLY been cleared after 2 years of fighting with them! Anyway…

Where was I anyway? Am I really going to publish this, or maybe should I just save it as an invisible draft instead of venting my fears to the world? Beats me.

So, today has been the day I think I’ve feared all along. I’ve been afraid of that spectre called “Post-Partum Depression.” You see, I’ve dealt with Mr. D before, and the statistics have said that anyone who’s been through it is more prone to it after having a child. But I’ve been spared! I’ve been perky, happy, balanced…until today. Today, I feel like everything has kind of fallen apart, and all I can seem to do is cry, and hold Maya as she cries. I talked to a friend earlier today — one of those annoying sorts who likes to find the worst-case scenario in everything. I got a big dose of “I told you so” from him. I told you what? That I had no business having a child? That I should have given her up for adoption? That I should have had an abortion in the first place? Don’t know…but “I told you so” for sure that I just wouldn’t be able to hack it. Why do I listen to these things? He calls it a reality check. I call it accepting failure before even trying.

Whatever the case, since then, all I can think about is whether I should have made different choices. Do I have a right to raise my own daughter? Should I have terminated this pregnancy? It doesn’t really matter, really — either choice — adoption or abortion, I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself. I’ve never really come to a place where I’ve felt like killing myself. Never, even in the deepest pits of depression back in the mid-nineties. But thinking about giving up this little girl, I would have to die. Then, when I think about that idea, all I can do is cry more, which of course makes it difficult (impossible) for me to get any more work done. This is pathetic.

Okay, enough self-indulgence for now. I have a baby who appears to be waking up. (yippie. Five minutes of sleep for her. She NEEDS a nap, and I have no idea why she won’t sleep!) Whether I feel up for it or not, I’m back “on.” And if she decides to doze again, there are many other things to do besides sit here and spew out some disorganized thoughts which would scare the life out of those aforementioned friends and family. Guess I could clean the kitchen? Do laundry? *gasp* work?

*sigh*

It’s just today, and I have to remember that. Other days will be easier and better.

So, the nap didn’t last. The good news is, she’s enjoying her mobile enough I might actually be able to grab a shower. Of course, I didn’t get the camera in time for the big smiles and coos she gave to say hello to her animal friends!