Another milestone...

Otis smiled early — at 3 weeks — and is already holding his head up unsupported, at a mere 10 weeks of age.

He weighs an impressive 6.35 kg and is an absolute joy, so smiley and so vocal. I miss him when he's asleep and my heart skips a beat when I hear the little cries he makes upon waking. I literally run to him and scoop him up in my arms, covering him in kisses and breathing in his salty, yummy smell. I love how puffy his face after his long afternoon sleep — on one side it is usually bright pink, and his hair is sweaty and matted...

It truly is like being in love. But better! You don't have to worry about arguments or infidelity or looking good... He loves me when I'm wearing a ratty, vomit-stained t-shirt, undies with holes in them, and sporting unwashed, unbrushed hair and morning breath. Can't get much more unconditional than that!

The strange behaviour of a new mother...

These are some somewhat surprising things I find myself doing/thinking/experiencing:

Rocking and/or pushing in a soothing, to and fro manner, the Woolworths trolley...

Talking about myself in the third person ("Mama loves you Oti", "Mummy's here")...

Giving Phil a silent high five or thumbs up whenever he or I manage to get Otis to sleep... How dorky!

Running to the door and listening every minute or two when I am hanging out the washing during Oti's sleep...

Stinking of vomit and not caring one little bit!

Sitting at Redfern Station with an exposed breast — nipple and all — and not caring... Not one bit!

Hanging out at Ashfield Mall's Michele's Patisserie with a bunch of much older mothers, and actually enjoying conversations pertaining to the frequency and colour of baby excrement...

Singing "Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree" with the sort of gusto I used to reserve for karaoke...

Starting my day at 5... With a smile on my face!

Having 3 minute showers... And, no, it's not out of environmental consciousness, although I am happy to claim that! Otis gets shirty very quickly in the shower, and I can't wash my hair or shave my legs when he's in there with me, so all I ever do is a quick all-over soaping and a rinse once I've washed and soothed him. Whoever suggested that babies find showers/baths relaxing obviously never met Oti! He's happy for the first minute... Sometimes.

Shopping in KMart... Every f$%#ing day!

Preferring to stay at home with my husband and my son over getting dressed up and going out drinking with my friends...

10 weeks old...

Exactly ten weeks ago I was lying in a hospital bed and gazing adoringly at my sleeping boy, ignoring the midwife's pleas to "try to get some sleep". Sleep! It was the furthest thing from my mind, despite how exhausted — physically, mentally, emotionally — I was. These days when he's asleep I work at speed to get things done... I write in here when I can, I put on and hang out washing, I clean the kitchen, I prepare a quick — usually unexciting — meal, I check my email, I make phone calls. I never really obeyed the "sleep when your baby sleeps" advice.

We've been busy! Otis celebrated his first Easter in style... He wore a pair of blue satin bunny ears to Mass, gorgeously co-ordinated, of course, with a white Bonds Wondersuit. Mum called it an "Anne Geddes moment". I couldn't agree more! I try not to be one of those mother's who uses their baby as an accessory, but he really was absolutely, undeniably adorable. Next Easter he'll be wolfing down chocolate and making a mess... Never again will he look so pure and untarnished!

He's growing up! In both the literal and figurative sense... He's getting so tall, soon he won't fit in his little bed, and since I'm not sure that we can feasibly move the cot into our room, I guess he'll be in his own room before we know it. He can hold his head up now for about 5 minutes or so at a time — I help him practise sitting my holding him by the hands and lifting him into a sitting position. He looks around quite proudly in these moments! He's starting to get quite cheeky... When I had him all wrapped and ready for sleep an hour ago, he kept spitting out his dummy and giving me these sneaky, giggling grins. It was frustrating, but, really, I couldn't help but laugh! He goes for his dummy less and less these days — he's more interested in stuffing his entire fist into his mouth, and drooling all over himself and whoever is caring for him.

He's still suffering from reflux... In fact, I think it may be getting worse. He tends to bring the milk back up, all chunky, creamy and curdled, about an hour after each feed, and when he does he grimaces ever so slightly. We go through numerous bibs per day, and he's got Mylanta on tap. It doesn't appear to be troubling him too much, though, so I'm not having it investigated any further at this point.

Our nights are getting better and better all the time. He now goes down, in his own bed, which is parked a centimetre or two from mine, anytime between 7 and 8, and usually takes about half an hour to properly drift off. He then usually sleeps for a fairly lengthy spell, anywhere between 4 and 7 hours, before waking for his first feed. After that he stays in with me, and wakes every 3 hours until around 5, when he's up for the day! I'll try to pat him back to sleep, but he just stares at me with those big, dark eyes, and smiles defiantly, knowing his little face will win me over. Once he's been changed I read to him — Kidogo, Peter Rabbit, ABC, Hug — he's got a few favourites. We usually follow this with a song or two — Old McDonald (and on that farm he had an Otis... Wah-wah here... Wah-wah there... You get the picture!), Kookaburra Sits In The Old Gum Tree, Chin Up, You Are My Sunshine. I need to increase my repertoire!

I am finally at a point where I can say that I feel confident as a mother. I think I know my baby really well and am able to meet all his needs. It's a great feeling! We still have our dark moments, however. But these days I am better at managing my own feelings and frustrations. I think, having done this for as long as I have now, I know that the "witching hour" (around 6 'til 7 in the evening) is just that, an hour at most... I know that as soon as I get to breaking point, as soon as my cries join his, things inevitably get better, he tires and starts to settle, forgets why he was fussing in the first place. Bad days are over fairly quickly, and his smiles are truly magical — they have the power to make me forget... Phil is great at jumping in when I can't cope... I'm lucky to be with someone who knows me so well and can read me like an open book.

The many names of Otis...

We call him:

Otis, Oti, Oat Boy, Oat Man, Beautiful, Mummy's Boy, Mummy's Baby, Spew Boy, Mr. Moo, Bugaloo, Bubbaloo, Bubbarina, Bubba, Monkey, Devil, Puppykins, Baby Boy, Little Boy, Little Man, Little Old Man, OJ, Otis James, Happy Boy...

Some make sense, some don't.

Amazing, hey?

My little family...

I am so in love with my little family — Phil and Otis. They are my world. I am so incredibly lucky and can't wait to spend the Easter long weekend with my two boys...

Happy Easter!

Followed by a great night!

After yesterday, I had no expectations of how Otis would go overnight. But I decided to try a few new tactics... And I'm pleased to announce that they appear to have worked!

He woke up at 6, and I gave him a big, long feed... Both sides instead of just the one. Phil then took him for a walk, which gave me a much needed reprieve and allowed me to recharge the batteries and improve my attitude. He started to get tired, yawning and whining, at around 7:30. I fed him again at 8, even though he didn't seem to need it — this is what is known in the mothering world as a "top-up" feed. Phil managed to get him to sleep by 8:30, and he slept in his own bed until 3!!! Yiiippppeeeeee!!!!!

I was most proud, and am feeling quite energised after such a long, uninterrupted sleep. Well, actually, it wasn't completely uninterrupted... I woke up every hour or so to check that he was still breathing, and to marvel at the situation I suddenly found myself in!! I managed to fall asleep again withing minutes each time, however.

Even though I think it's FANTASTIC that he's sleeping so well alone, I must confess to missing our nights together, missing that sweet little sleepy face looking up at me, missing those tiny, tickling little breaths, and the hand on my boob. I'll always look back on our co-sleeping days with joy and fondness...

Mum and Lani came to get him about an hour ago...

Bad day...

Today has been really... challenging. Last night Otis fed 2 hourly, if not more frequently, so I am feeling very worn out. After such an anomalous night, he woke up out-of-sorts and grumbly. He was having lots of short, snacky feeds, and catnapping rather than really sleeping. My first attempt to get him to sleep was at around 3, which is when he is usually waking up... I got him down, but he squirmed and slithered like a snake, tossing his head to and fro, spitting out his dummy and then frantically sucking air and dribbling all over the sheets. I took him out for a cuddle, and after a little while his eyes started closing. I took that as a signal that he was ready for sleep, re-wrapped him, and put him back in. 5 minutes of patting and rocking, and then I tip-toed out as stealthily as I could. Breathing a sigh of relief in the kitchen and treating myself to a cold drink, I heard his cries... Whimpers at first, developing into screams. Anyway, to cut a long story short I tried 5 times all up, and finally managed to get him to sleep on our bed at around 4.

I then realised I hadn't expressed enough milk for Mum to give him tomorrow, so frantically set about boiling water to sterilise the pump and bottle. Our microwave broke! Anyway, in my exhaustion and haste I managed to burn my hand. As you can imagine, the tears flowed! I'd just had enough.

Luckily I have a Mum I can call anytime — either for advice or a shoulder to cry on. Just hearing someone say, "I know how hard it is" — that is incredibly comforting.

I am dreading having to sit and rock and pat for another hour or so tonight... Not only is it tedious and frustrating, it is also physically awkward. No wonder new mothers often lose weight rather rapidly... What with the baby-wearing in slings and Bjorns, pram-pushing, cradle-rocking, patting to pacify, having no time to eat, and breastfeeding... I should be giving Nicole Ricihie and the like a run for their money in no time!

There. Feel much better now having written all this down.

As Anne Shirley likes to say, tomorrow is a fresh day with no mistakes in it.

It's also our 3 year wedding anniversary!

Immunisations...

Oti was immunised on Friday. I spent the morning anxiously anticipating his pain. Phil and I were scared that he'd associate the pain with us, that he'd think we were to blame! We were also a bit worried about the potential side-effects — a healthy, happy baby is hard enough work, how would we manage a sick little grump?

Anyway, it really was a fairly minor moment. He drank the medicine quite happily, and I popped him on the boob for the main event. He let out a fairly high-pitched yelp, and there were a few tears (yes, some of those fell from MY eyes). It would have been cute if it weren't so sad... He was trying to feed and cry at the same time, and the nipple kept falling out of his open, screeching mouth. Other than a low-grade fever later that night and some half-hearted feeding the next morning, I'm pleased to report he was absolutely fine.

Dr Hsu also weighed and measured him. He's now — at 2 months of age — 62.5 cm long and weighs 5.7 kg. Impressive! It feels great to get some reassurance that, at least in the physical sense, he's thriving and being properly cared for.

Not that he's struggling intellectually or anything!! He's developing so well, changing so very quickly. He's favourite thing to do these days is to talk to us. If Phil and I are chatting, he'll try to join in, often imitating — fairly poorly, I'll admit! — the types of sounds we're making. I'll say "hello", he'll say "aaaeeeooooooo". It's just the cutest thing. He's very vocal, a regular chatterbox. I guess that's no surprise, given how chatty both his parents are! He tends to look so proud after making conversation, it's as if he's aware that he's done something clever and cute.

His feet are so funny! He's got a big gap between his big toe and his second toe... I guess he's all ready to wear Havianas! Phil calls this evolution. Anyway, I'll be buying him a pair as soon as his feet are big enough to fit into the tiny ones. They're so cool! Perfect for my cool little bubba.

His hair is getting lighter by the day. I think in a month or so it will be white!

He's asleep in his bed right now... On his tummy! I know it's not the recommended sleeping position, but he is most comfortable that way, and much, much easier to settle like that. Perhaps that makes me a lazy and neglectful parent. I guess I'll have to live with that! But, really, who likes sleeping flat on their back?

Reflux makes for a rough couple of days...

We (read — Mum) first thought Otis may have been suffering from reflux a number of weeks ago. He's such a spewer!! He vomits a little after almost every feed. However, since that single insufferable night when he took about 3 hours to stop screaming and get to sleep, he's been really, really great. Easy. Sure, a little whingey each evening, but happy for the most part, settled and serene. I thought, "This is getting better! It's getting easier!" In hindsight, that was a mistake. Babies can go from charming and cheerful to scary and scrappy in mere moments. The only thing you can ever predict with any accuracy is just how UNpredictable they are.

I've always had a bit of an issue with control. I like to feel in control of situations, I like to feel that I can solve problems and manage everything in my life. I knew the innately uncontrollable nature of babies would cause me some grief once I became a mother. And the last few nights really demonstrated this. On Monday night, Otis woke every 2 hours from midnight onwards. I actually swore at my helpless little boy, and immediately hated myself for it. I just didn't know what was going on — was he hungry? Was I making enough milk? Was I simply too tired to try other settling techniques, and hence a crappy, neglectful mother? Was in pain? Was it wind or reflux? Was he just in a bad mood? Was he too hot? Or maybe too cold, seeing as I'd only dressed him lightly due to the heat? Anyway, you get the point. The questioning went on and on. I posed all of these queries in Phil's presence, but he has the fairly useful ability to sleep through Oti's whinging and my ranting.

He was fine during the day yesterday, but when it came to getting him to sleep for the night, he started whining. I persisted with my rocking/patting/You Are My Sunshine routine. He started crying. I kept going. He got to screaming. Finally, worn out, he fell asleep... Or so I thought! Minutes later, the eyes opened wide, he started screaming again. I — almost — threw him down on the bed, walked out of the room, and passed parenting duty over to Phil. And then I cried. It just seemed so unfair! I had believed I had learned how to control him, and it freaked me out to realise that things could change so easily, so inexplicably, and, conveniently, the night before I returned to my writing! I called Mum, and she was wonderful as always, telling me she believed he had a moderate case of reflux, and that we should be giving him Mylanta a couple of times a day. She described what she thought was happening inside his little body, and it all made so much sense. He cries because he's been vomiting throughout the day, and is in pain from the burning, plus tired and cranky. The screaming leads to him gulping in air like a drunk swallows liquor, which then leads to wind pain. He then feeds because it soothes him, but this, of course, leads to more reflux. It's an awful cycle that needs to be broken.

So I calmed myself down, and administered the Mylanta. Her didn't pass out immediately, but within minutes he was calmer, and the-much-more-patient-and-saintly-Phil managed to get him to sleep. He then slept for 6 hours!! That's the longest he's ever slept.

Fingers crossed the Mylanta helps me regain some control. Failing that, fingers crossed I learn to cope with things being out of my control.

He's with Mum today. It's my first day back on the thesis.

A night without Otis...

On Saturday night, Oti had his first sleepover at Grandma and Poppy's place. It is difficult to put into words the way this made me feel. The upside, of course, was having a breather for the first time in almost 8 weeks. My life, for exactly 17 hours, did not revolve around the next feed, the next nappy, the next nap. I was a person again! A person I barely remember ever being. I drank champagne and pigged out on canapes, and chatted about things both trivial and serious with my best friends. I even managed to wash and blow dry my hair, paint my toe nails, and put on a dress! It was a relief for me to discover that, although things have changed immeasurably, they have also stayed the same.

Funnily enough, although I welcomed the respite, I found myself showing off his latest digital snaps and talking about him fairly incessantly (I'm sure I bored my friends to tears, but, being the wonderful women they are, they didn't say as much). Without him, I feel as if I am only half there. He's been with me for so long... Consciously, at least, since 28th April 2007, when I dipped a stick into a cup of wee and saw two pink lines appear. I feel a little lost without him.

I made the first call to Mum and Dad as soon as we arrived at the party. He'd been a bit teary when we'd left, and I just wanted to make sure Mum and Dad weren't tearing their hair out. It wasn't that I didn't trust in their ability to care for him — they are better at it than I am!! — it was more that I wanted them to like him. I knew they LOVED him, but I wanted them to really bond with him, to discover his little personality, his special quirks that Phil and I know so well and have grown to love. It made me so happy to hear Mum tell me over the phone the following morning, whilst we were speeding along, desperate to get back to him, that he had been "perfect". That he had given them lots of big, happy grins and giggles. I love that he makes her so happy. I feel that, in some ways, he is a gift that I have given to my parents. They can have that uncomplicated, untarnished, perfect love for him that is different to the love that parents have for their children.

OK, I know I said I didn't have to think about feeds, but what I DID have to keep in mind were my getting-harder-and-sorer-by-the-minute boobs. At around midnight, fairly full of Omni, I sat in the garden surrounded by the girls and expressed onto the grass. It was dark, people were drunk, and I didn't fancy locking myself away in a bathroom for 20 minutes. The indignities of motherhood!!

My favourite moment of the whole weekend was arriving back at Mum's the next day, picking up my little man, and cuddling him tight and long. I breathed him in, I drank in his yummy, familiar smell, and gazed into his curious, befuddled eyes. I felt like I was home.

Progress...

Well, well, well... Who would've thought it would only take me a week to get Otis sleeping soundly in his bed for 3 hours every afternoon! What a wonderful relief... I now have a period of time each day in which I can get a few things done. Who knew a sleeping baby could bring such joy?

Otis is doing so well... Strangers always comment on a few things in particular. Firstly, they are always stunned to hear his age. He is generally perceived to be a month or two older than he is. Not only is he long, but his face is quite defined — he's not a chubby baby by any means. He's also very alert, very inquisitive. The other thing people always mention is his hair! It's just the cutest — at the back it stands straight up, as if I've styled it that way! It's a beautiful golden colour, and looks a little red in the sun. At the nape of his neck it's quite long, and curls ever-so-slightly. People also comment on his eyes — so dark, so blue. They remind me of ink. Oh, and his big hands — they usually get a mention too.

I'm one proud Mummy! Can you tell?

Celebrity babies...

I loved being pregnant "with" Nicole Richie and Christina Aguilera. Their babies were due around the same time as Otis, and came on the 11th and 12th respectively. I was surprised to hear that Nicole actually laboured! She mentions having "pushed" for 10 minutes in the article in this week's OK. Christina, of course, had a c-section, as she didn't want any "surprises". How odd.

The media's portrayal of these women as super "moms" really gets my goat. Nicole talks about not having the time to exercise because she's with little Harlow 24/7. Yeah right! They've each already been papped on numerous occasions walking the red carpet sans baby. They've no idea what it's like for us plebs, they've no idea about the true, exhausting-yet-exhilerating experience of mothering. I don't believe they deserve the title of mother, not when they have 24 hour help on hand. It's in those hell-on-earth moments, those times when your baby cries incessantly and it is up to you and ONLY you to settle him/her that you discover what mothering is all about. And when you finally get those little cries to cease, that's when the joy kicks in. It's such a rollercoaster, one moment you feel like such a failure, the next you feel such pride. So whilst I may be coming off like a jealous bitch, the truth is I relish the fact that Otis is my responsibility around the clock.

He's been great today! I managed to send him off to sleep IN HIS BED in under 15 minutes today! Yay! He's been asleep for an hour so far... On his tummy, which I know isn't the safest option, but he's close by.

Our daily routine...

Oti wakes up for the day at around 5:30 most mornings. It's a struggle to wake up at that time, but hearing his little coos and giggles and seeing his happy face and big, bright shining eyes makes it bearable. He's always happy first thing in the mornng. He has a feed and a change, and then we read and sing songs for a little while. He and I usually drift off to sleep again at around 8, waking again at 9. Between 9 and 11 we do a few chores — usually with him strapped into the Baby Bjorn — have a shower, get dressed and head out for a walk, either to Ashfield Mall or Summer Hill. He'll have a sleep while we're out — usually for about 45 minutes to an hour. He sleeps again for a 3 hour stint in the afternoons, and wakes up around the time Phil gets home. He's usually quite happy and active for a short time, and then turns bratty and tired, and can be difficult to settle. He tends to go to sleep for the night between 6:30 and 8, and usually sleeps for 5 hours, before waking every 3 hours or so.

I am still working on getting him to fall asleep in his bassinette. It's VERY challenging, but with Mum's over-the-phone guidance I actually managed to get him down about an hour ago. So far so good, but he could wake at any moment, as he tends to startle himself and either a) punch himself in the face or b) get frustrated that his arms are straight-jacketed, and as a result of either of these issues, wakes himself up.

Things I struggle with...

I hate, hate, HATE it when he screams in the car. I feel helpless, as all I can do is talk to him in a reassuring tone. I sometimes reach back and put a finger out for him to grasp on to, but I don't think he knows it's me when he can't see me!

Having to always be the one to feed him. It's a massive responsibility, and whilst it's lovely that I can provide him with all the nutrients he needs, it'd be nice to be able to pass him to Phil for a feed when he wakes at 2:30 in the morning. I know I could express some milk and have Phil feed him from a bottle, but that in itself is time consuming, and these days time really is of the essence.

Speaking of being woken at 2:30 in the morning, I do still struggle a little with the broken sleep. It takes me a little while to respond to his stirring, to his little legs kicking and his nose nuzzling into me. In those moments I think if I ignore him he'll fall asleep again... It takes me a minute or two to kick into gear and get a boob out!

My post-preggers body. The bleeding — every day for almost 7 weeks! And having to use pads! I haven't used pads since I was a teenager. The sagging — my boobs aren't too bad, but the stretched skin on my tummy is simple hideous. And the stretchmarks — ugly, ugly, ugly. Lan and Phil like to remind me that they are my war wounds, and that they signify a special time in my life, and my love for my bubba. This thought provides momentary respite, but then, I'll accidentally catch a glimpse in the mirror and feel horrified all over again.

Can't think of anything else! The nappies don't bother me in the least...