When the Going Gets Tough

When I'm running, and the going gets tough, like when I'm at the last part of a race and I'm REALLY wishing for it to end, I try to focus on other things - on pleasant things - like raindrops on roses or whiskers on kittens. However, when it's 6 a.m. and you really haven't slept much all night - like say only for a couple of hours - and the Baby is crying, well, it's really hard to focus on other, more pleasant things. After all you've got a Baby who just won't stop fussing. And merry thoughts of my favourite things really don't come to mind.

Okay, The B and I have been really blessed. Baby Max does/did not have colic. He's a great eater - he's already 13.8 pounds and pretty much in the 90th plus percentiles for his length and weight. And he's already smiling socially - not from gas. He's just a typical baby who still has no control over his Circadian rhythms or his flailing arms (which, if come unbound from a swaddle, sometimes wake him up.) At this moment, almost seven weeks in, he's got his days and nights ass backwards - literally. And his daytime activities mimic that of Ellie, our feline fur baby: Sleep during the day; up during the night.

At first we thought it was an anomaly, but for the last few nights, it's been the same pattern: asleep during the day and up all night. It's really tough and on mornings like this, when I've only gotten a few hours of shut eye all night, it's hard to imagine that the rest of the day has yet to begin. From a runner's standpoint, it's like getting the starting line of a race feeling lethargic and heavy. (Think Michael Scott from the show The Office when he attempted to run a 5K after eating a plate full of pasta Alfredo.)

Last night, I chatted with my girlfriends and it seems like this is pretty normal. Lisa even said, "When I was going through this, (her son, Ben, is now almost three) it was hard to imagine that it would never end." Though we're in the midst of Baby Max's weird sleep cycles, I found it reassuring to know that what we're going through is normal.

Sometimes I wish I could snap my fingers and Baby Max would have gone through this three month period of parental "hell." But speaking to other parents, I know that looking back I will laugh at this time and remember it fondly. After all, isn't that what most parents do? I recall speaking to my mom a few months ago. She seemed to have "forgot" the chaos that comes with raising kids - especially one spirited one like myself. And it's like labour: most women do remember there was pain, but can't recall the intensity or what it felt like. In two or three years this "forgetfulness" translates into many parents doing it again and having more kids.

At this point, going through this tough patch makes me conclude that Baby Max will be a singleton. But then again, I haven't gone through that "forgetful" period yet...

Hey wait a second, thinking about Baby Max's smile...come to think of it, that does make me forget some of the frustration of trying to put him to sleep last night. A little.

Firsts

This year there are and will be many "firsts." Like...this is Baby Max's first Christmas; the first time we experienced projectile poo (last night) and today, the first time I ran since giving birth. It wasn't fast or anything significant, but I ran for 25 minutes - the first time in six weeks - and I felt great. I didn't push it, I just listened to what my body told me I was capable of.

While cooling down, it got me thinking about 2010 and some running goals for the year. It's hard to say right now while my body and mind are still adjusting to having a baby, but I know I'd like to do a fall marathon and perhaps a spring half marathon. These goals - like my schedule, or lack thereof - will now have to be extremely flexible as I juggle motherhood. It will be a challenge and at times - fraught with frustration - I know, but I'm game and willing.

But now back to something more timely: Christmas.

As my dear cousin, Michelle, wrote in her Christmas card, we've already received the "best-est Christmas present ever" in the form of Baby Max. I tend to agree. This Christmas, like most, I give thanks to the gift of a wonderful family and fantastic friends. I am truly blessed.

And since it is Christmas eve, I will end this post with a special video Yuletide greeting.

Intentions

Well, since my midwife, Carol, gave me the go-ahead to head back to the gym and do some light running-walking, I've been meaning to go. In fact, I've been excited! Trouble is, I've now learned that with a six-week old Baby Maxity, I have to expect the unexpected - and that includes a sudden change of plans or rather, a more "fluid" schedule - one with no times.

While last night was pretty good and I managed to get a four hour block of sleep, the two nights prior were...well, hellish! Baby Max seemed to go totally nocturnal on us. It was like he was a vampire. Seriously. He would be fine until about midnight and then...

It went something like this:

Midnight - cry, cry, cry and only stop until he's picked up and cuddled.

1 a.m. - diaper change and the cry for more milk. At this point Baby Max is so ravenous that he's drinking not only breast milk, but also air - which feeds a nasty cycle of gas.

2 a.m. - falls asleep for a moment and awakens, screaming. We conclude that he's wet and needs more milk. NOW. Or he's gassy and needs help to rid himself of the excess air polluting his digestive system.

3 a.m. - more rocking, bouncing, shushing. Right now, Baby Max is WIDE awake, like I mean "big eye" wide awake. We try to swaddle and shush, but he's a wiggly little thing and cries when we put him down on his back.

4 a.m. - another diaper change and more milk. Still, relatively little or no shut eye - for all of us.

5 a.m. - the party is dying down and Baby Max is starting to calm down and cry less. He lets me swaddle him and falls asleep on my breast. I gingerly take him - almost like I'm carrying a ticking time bomb - and gently place him down beside me. While I'm doing this I'm praying to all the Gods to help him stay asleep.

5:05 a.m. - after staring at a snoring Baby Max, I'm reassured that's he's FINALLY asleep.

5:07 a.m. - now for some ZZZs of our own.

On these two days, I had made plans to go to the gym while he slept during the day, but that was impossible, since I was in bed too. I'm told that this episode was typical of a "growth spurt" and that at this stage, I should expect them every two to three weeks.

Okay, there is some regularity to that! Perhaps I can "plan" around these?

Getting into the Spirit

Well, I'm getting into the spirit and it's not the Deck the Halls kinda spirit.

Olympic fever is sweeping the nation and it's wonderful. This morning, at the crack of dawn, I rolled out of bed and walked down the street to watch the Olympic flame go by. It was amazing. I would have loved to share the moment with Baby Max, but at -8 degrees and a windchill that made it feel like -12, I left him with The B in his warm swaddle. Besides, he was in a peaceful slumber and you NEVER wake a sleeping baby!

The last time the Olympics were in Canada, in my lifetime, was back in 1988 in Calgary. I was 12 years old. It was a big deal for me. I followed the Games everyday in the paper and even made a scrapbook. Watching the coverage, I realized how much I loved sport. And this love eventually paved the way for my first degree in Kinesiology and my life-long affair with athletics.

Up to this point, I hadn't really thought much of the Vancouver 2010 Games. Not with a new baby and all that such an events brings. However, seeing the Olympic flame - being so close to it this morning, literally lit the flame inside of me. And I'm sure it did the same for the others who braved the chilly weather this morning to cheer on the torchbearer. I must say that I did apply to become a torchbearer, but sadly was not among the chosen. Still, it was so cool to see it so close to my house - a flame that has made its way from the birthplace of the Olympic Games: Greece.

One of the torchbearers this morning was none other than John Stanton- a god himself in the Canadian running scene. He started The Running Room and he helped to ignite the running craze here in Canada. It was so fitting to see him run this morning. This morning's events also helped to fuel my desire to run again.

In fact, I've been given a clean bill of health to run again, albeit slowly and the jog-walk kind. I've also restarted my gym membership and am thinking...just thinking right now to do a New Year's Day 5K.

However, we'll see.

Of Curve Balls, Crying and Craving Sleep

A few days ago at work, The B found himself telling his colleague, who also has young children, how we seemed to have figured Baby Max out.

"He's such a good baby and only cries when he wants something," said The B. "I think we've pretty much got him figured out."

"Well, you think you do and then they throw you a curve ball," said The B's colleague. "Babies are just like that, they're constantly changing."

Well, the B's confidence was based on the first two weeks - what many child care experts call the "Honeymoon" period or the time from birth to approximately the two-week mark. It was false assurance.

On Sunday night, Baby Max, now in his third week, threw us a curve ball.

We naively assumed that because he was sleeping longer at night last week, he was well on his way to sleeping through the night. We confidently assumed that we, newbie parents, had been blessed with the least fussiest baby on the block and that we'd skipped "that fussy period of the first few weeks."

Well, we were wrong.

That night, and a few nights after, Baby Max kept us up into the wee hours of the morning with his fussing and crying. One night, The B even went to the local drugstore and bought every brand of pacifier available, thinking that a soothie would help The Maxity.

All the experts I've read all say that the first six weeks tend to be the toughest because both baby and parents are adjusting to the massive lifestyle change. They also say that between two and six weeks, fussiness (for the average, garden-variety baby, like Max) peaks. One author even went so far as to say that for the average baby, "something magical happens at six weeks," where the crying and (sometimes) extreme fussiness tends to wane.

We're keeping our fingers crossed. If that's true, then we've only got about a fortnight to go.

Lately I've noticed that Baby Max can swing from one extreme to the next, seemingly in seconds. One moment he's calm. One second - a split second - later he's screaming like he's being drawn and quartered. And when he reaches the pinnacle of one of his crying episodes, he almost sounds like a bleating lamb. Imagine a cry punctuated by verbrato. (My brother, Uncle D, can do a great impression of this!) And as bizarre as this may sound, sometimes The B and I find this Jekyll and Hyde-like behaviour somewhat humorous (depending on how much sleep we've managed to eek out!)

Baby Max has also started to make a lot more squeaks, peeps and grunts during his sleep. It's something I'm also getting used to. He's also become a lot gassier - like the planet Jupiter. I swear, during most of his waking moments, the poor lad is trying to squeeze out the gas from his body. I've realized that pumping his legs - in essence creating a "fart pump" helps to rid some of the gas. The rest comes out in burps or spit ups.

Now, almost four weeks in, I've come to realize the importance of what many have said while I was pregnant: "Get as much sleep as you can because when the baby comes, you won't be getting any." Yes, there is a lot of truth to that, but I've also been managing to combat the sleep deprivation and broken sleep by napping during the day and just taking it easy. It is helping. A little.

It's funny how I used to take something, like sleep, for granted. Before the baby came, sleep was nothing I really thought much of. It was a given. Of course I would sleep at night. These days, sleep has become a hot commodity. And I've noticed that many other parents feel the same way - especially how they talk about it - quantify it. As new parents we've concluded that a measure of a successful night is based on how many hours of consecutive sleep we got. For us, sleep has become the new currency. More of it and you can "afford" to do more during the day, like go to the mall or go for a walk. Faced with the prospect that we could be sleep deprived for many more months or even years, The B and I are really taking it one step at a time.

When Baby Max was born my mother-in-law, Judy, gave us a card with a very wonderful saying. In fact her grandfather, Barton Wheelwright, had written it when her son, my brother-in-law, Dave was born. She's kept it all these years. I think it best sums up our "investment."

"Congratulations and our best love on your election to that ancient and honourable group known as Parents Inc. While the initiation fee is small, the annual dues are what count, usually they go up. However, while the cost is high, so are the rewards, may yours be very, very rich."

Here's to striking the gold mine.

Slowly Getting Back in the Game

Workout: 1 hour of gentle Kundalini yoga and 45 minutes of walking with the stroller

That was yesterday's workout. It was my first yoga class since I gave birth, now almost three weeks ago. (Time flies!) And despite the fact that it was one of Christina's (friend and Yoga instructor extraordinaire) more gentler classes (it was a Baby and Mom class that The B also attended), I felt stiff and so out of shape. Yes, Christina did remind me that I had recently given birth to a little human. Still, I couldn't really believe the state of my body. I know it will take some work getting back into the shape I was even before I gave birth- let alone my pre-pregnancy state. At times, I felt like a creaky old house with wooden floorboards that groaned when people walk on them.

After yoga, I bundled up Baby Max and we went on a nice 45-minute stroll through the parkland and paths behind our house. It was a nice walk, made even nicer because the temperature felt more like late October than early December. It was so quiet; so peaceful. There were some hills which made me smile, but I still can't wait to run again. I know a day like yesterday would have been perfect to bang off a quick 10k tempo run. Oh, those were the days. After the walk, I felt a bit tired and slightly out of breath. It's hard to believe that I used to easily do those 10K tempos...just like that.

Be patient, I tell myself. Be patient.

As I continue to heal and Baby Max grows, I'm learning more and more about myself with each passing day. In my Type A personality ways, I'm starting to throw my "To Do" lists out the window. I've discovered that if I can get anything done with a newborn on any given day, there's a reason to celebrate. Don't get me wrong, I love being a mom, but...wow, it's a lot of work!

These days, my schedule (or lack thereof) is ruled by a tiny dictator with a stomach no larger than walnut. I'm aware that during these early weeks of life, newborns are pretty much governed by their hunger and poo/pee cycles. And with his tiny, little digestive system continually doing its thing, we spend a lot of waking (and half-awake hours) feeding, burping, changing, wiping...etc.

Again, don't get me wrong, I'm not complaining, I really am blessed to have My Little Man Max. He's a sweet little guy and really only cries when he's hungry or wet. And when he looks at us with his big brown eyes, The B and I just melt like butter.

When we were in Mom and Baby yoga yesterday, there were two other babies in the class. Both were older than three months and smiled and cooed a lot. They were very, very cute and knowing that we will (hopefully) have a charmer on our hands soon enough makes the sleepless nights extremely worth it.