He’s one year old; and don’t we just know it. This milestone has passed and I feel a sense of liberation in toddlerdom approaching. Charlie celebrates with a boost in asserting his independence further, undoubtedly helped by a visit to see his cousins down South. They lift him up and carry him off as soon as day breaks. At his birthday party, Charlie stuffs down sausage rolls, pink wafers, sandwiches, cake, and crisps with incredible ease, filling a bottomless pit and throwing up his feast before bed.
Back home again, I start letting Charlie lunch independently. Much goes on the floor, some goes in his mouth, bits hit the walls. But we persevere and he’s clearly thriving on it. Certainly it frees me up to get on with bits and pieces, or to eat an early lunch with him. The transition to cow’s milk was without note and today I’ve just successfully tried him on a bit of ‘pink milk’ which sorted out an otherwise grisly afternoon. We’ve invested (being the operative word) in a Tripp Trapp high chair. He’s been in a perfectly serviceable, wipe clean highchair; but the Tripp Trapp allows him to sit at the kitchen table with us. It’s a lovely bit of kit, must admit.
Charlie walks confidently with one hand held now. It’s just a matter of confidence until he’s up and running on his own. He climbs stairs at any given opportunity, scales the outside of the house, thinks sea and sand are fab, loves playgrounds and soft play areas (me too!) and generally enjoys active, splishy splashy, fearless fun (gulp). I am lucky in that he can also quite easily entertain himself for periods of time, mostly spinning things, chatting, reading, watching C Beebies, attempting to get into things that are out of bounds and always making a mess. He is great fun.
Here we are on the brink of toddlerdom, and just as the books predicted, Gaz and I look at each other and say with disbelief, ‘I can’t believe he’s almost a year old, the time has gone so quickly.’ The huge, HUGE changes that we have experienced becoming parents are now the norm; our family lifestyle established. And it’s nice!
Mostly, Charlie sleeps through the night. If he wakes it is normally for a reason. Last night is a good example - we put him down as normal at 7 pm (post CBeebies Bedtime Hour), but he wouldn’t go to sleep and screamed the house down. Finally we brought him back down and turns out he needed a bit more vertical time to get a sideways poo out. Post poo (and a little Calpol) all was fine and he went to bed. The norm is that he’ll sleep until 7 am; certainly that’s when he’ll get his pre-breakfast milk. I’ve installed a blackout blind at his window, which has abruptly stopped any early wake up calls.
Whilst he’s not walking yet, he cruises around the furniture, sometimes making over-ambitious leaps. He crawls when he wants to get somewhere fast, lifting a leg higher to get greater momentum and speed. Naturally he wants to get to places that are vetoed, impossible, or just plain dangerous. He is obsessed by the mechanics of things, especially wheels and computers currently. You can smell the grey matter working, as he makes sense of things. He is talkative and is beginning to use mama and dada with meaning, we like to think. It is not the ‘wow’ moment I had anticipated. ’Mama’ is used so randomly I am yet to believe that he’s talking to me, but the word and the context grow closer daily. The baby hugs and wet sloppy kisses that sometimes accompany it are truly lovely.
Over the last few weeks, Charlie has been walking around, whenever someone holds his hands to steady him. He is very pleased with himself and gets quite excited crossing thresholds, experiencing a change of surface underfoot, and when anyone pays him a glimmer of attention. More recently, Charlie has added to his portfolio of skills by improving on the walking, bringing himself to stand, and crawling, seemingly simultaneously.
With these new skills, his world has suddenly become much bigger. Some doors remain firmly shut to him and we are now stair gate positive. Charlie recognises the barriers but, for now, is content to crawl around the ground floor - pausing only at the washing machine, his pushchair, the vertical blinds, coffee table, DVDs, and TV. The baby books suggest all this happens gradually. Not so for Charlie he’s stored it up, fathomed it out and WHOOSH; he’s off. It is quite adorable to watch his little back legs rev up as he gets ready for the off. His head must be spinning and a spate of broken sleep recently suggests just this.
I went to Clarks to buy his first pair of shoes. He loves his new shoes and takes giant, false steps in them, panting and giggling as he does so. We have a polaroid snap of him proudly stamping about in them at the shop. It is really quite sweet. The shoes do allow Charlie to walk outside with confidence and he seems to especially like walking from the car into our house. I don’t think it will be too many weeks before he is walking independently. Every day he strikes out for new places; today the washing machine, tomorrow the loo.
The last couple of weeks have been quite wearing, with ongoing maladies. Following his hospital visit, Charlie managed to harbour a spectacular fever for almost a week, which has thankfully subsided just now. My nerves are shattered and I yearn to pass on the weight of responsibility that being a mother brings. I remain dumbfounded at the amount of snot that such a small person can produce.
Given this disruption, Charlie’s night-time sleep is shot to pieces. Daytime naps and bedtime are fine, but staying asleep is the problem. Charlie tends to wake around 10 pm and then will be up until gone midnight. Currently I try the tested methods out for about an hour or so, but he just gets himself more worked up. I resort to cuddling him in a dimmed living room and then putting him back to bed once he is calm. As usual, the variables that could cause this are several: blocked nose, out of routine, separation anxiety, hunger. I need to stay calm and remember this is a phase, but last night I was contemplating packing my bags, driving off into the night and removing myself from the situation. I don’t have a support network up here and it is at these bleak moments I really feel it.
Crawling still evades Charlie. He gets into position and then rolls off in a favoured direction, usually towards electrical wires, gadgets, or vertical blinds. He likes standing and pretend walking, but these skills are in their infancy and he is only just beginning to find his balance on two feet. There are 6 teeth. Charlie is a little SpongeBob Squarepants at the moment, but hopefully the gap will close as more teeth come in. He is a social creature; the beginnings of words and morse code style staccato ring through the house daily.
I seem to be returning to shape, finally. This is not a natural event, but hard work with diet and exercise. I am about halfway there now and should be at my ‘ideal’ weight around August time. I don’t want Charlie to grow up with a fat mummy and I want to be in better shape for his little future sibling. I know I am mad, but the hormones have got me and I go to pieces at the sight of small babies now. I held a friend’s baby the other week and he was SUCH the nicest piece of squidge, I didn’t want to give him back (I did).
Charlie was taken to hospital on Saturday night. He’d been temperamental over the past day or so, but had been eating normally, playing nicely and napping well. I’d been concerned sufficiently to take his temperature and it was the high side of normal, but a little Calpol before bed I felt would sort him out.
Around 11.30 pm he woke up and I went in to settle him. No problem; 5 minutes later the same again - although this time his cry was different - a low repetitive moan and he seemed half asleep. I picked him up - his head and neck were floppy, but his limbs rigid. Normally, he’ll snuggle into me but he was still and I knew something wasn’t right. I took him to Gaz and after briefly considering options, we called 999. We couldn’t raise him and the moaning continued. We removed his clothing and applied tepid flannels to the back of his neck to cool him. The emergency operator talked us through what to do and in hindsight I realised she’d asked us to position him ready for CPR. By the time the paramedics arrived Charlie was lucid but still moaning and obviously in distress.
From A&E, he was admitted to the children’s ward for tests. He was repeatedly checked for Meningitis, which hadn’t even occurred to me. Some paracetamol, ibuprofen and oxygen later, Charlie was appeased. We spent the night on the ward, with me next to him on a camp bed. Unfortunately the oxygen monitor kept alarming and around 7.30 am they turned it off for an hour so we could get some sleep. All Charlie’s tests were clear; bloods, urine, chest x-ray, eyes, ears, throat. They thought it was a convulsion relating to viral induced fever. Charlie was back home the following afternoon.
36 hours on and I am a nervous wreck. I’ve kept Charlie home today from the usual gauntlet of baby groups and feel this is the right thing. Charlie’s tired, but that’s easily explained from the disruption on Saturday and Sunday. I am on tenterhooks for the next cry, snuffle, quack. I’m sure it will pass and in a few days I’ll be relaxed again, but for the moment I’m not subscribing to calm and confident parenting.
I handed in my notice this morning. I would have liked to go back to my job, there I’ve admitted it. A glib comment taken out of context and I’m set sobbing over the end of my dream job, ‘it wasn’t nothing to me’. Fifteen years in education; eight in teacher training, three teaching at university and a three paragraph letter ends it. I worked bloody hard in all my jobs and have fond memories of them all but the university was the holy grail for me. They don’t come ten-a-penny.
But who am I? My life, my roles, my whole being has been irreversibly changed of recent months. I have maintained that I am happy not to return to work after maternity leave. I have reconciled that relocating for Gaz’s work means that I have to give up my career. I would have only wanted to return part time anyway and then only for a short while until number 2 arrives. The only option would have been to split up the family, live separately, commute every weekend; I don’t think that is a healthy alternative in the short or longer term.
I am the wife, the homemaker, the mother. I have arrived in Dundee armed with a positive attitude and have launched myself into a wide range of baby centred activities. I am meeting new people and there are the germs of new friendships forming, I’m sure. But it’s hard and sometimes I’d rather lock myself away from it all and hope that I wake up to the comfort of old friends and more familiar surroundings.
I have stopped breastfeeding. Despite a gradual decline over several weeks, I became engorged and had several days of discomfort. And then, nothing; except the thought, ‘Well that’s that then.’ Charlie has three meals a day; would live on Popeye Pasta given the opportunity and still gags when he takes too big a bite of finger foods received. He enjoys his night time milk whilst watching CBeebies Bedtime Hour on mine or daddy’s lap.
As if by magic, he has started sleeping through the night. He tends to sleep from 7 or 8 pm until 7.30-7.45 am. He may wake once a night, but this is brief and he often settles himself back to sleep. More teeth have broken the gum line, although teething continues daily, it seems. Charlie’s favourite hobbies include rolling around the room (to tamper with the vertical blinds, the amp, or merely stamp against the radiator/glass doors/coffee table), standing, and perfecting his pincer movement. Crawling is a bum raise away, yet he seems to manage very well as is.
To add to his fleet of buggies, Charlie now has a lightweight stroller. This has an umbrella folding mechanism which makes it a piece of piss to get in and out of the car. Similarly the harness means Charlie is no longer manhandled in and out of the buggy when we’re hopping about places. The Phil and Ted is great for walks and long stays, but not bouncing around town to different social events; especially as I have to dismantle the wheels to squeeze it into the boot of the Panda.
Charlie and I have a busy schedule during the week and we’ve started a range of baby groups locally. They are all friendly and welcoming, which is a different kettle of fish to my experiences in Southampton. We have been invited to another baby group this coming week with the promise of coffee after. It still fills me with trepidation, but I leave feeling quite uplifted by the experience. I am open with people that I’m new to the area and wanting to meet new people. Charlie thrives on the social activity, although he is so knackered after, he welcomes his nap. I feel very lonely at times, a side-effect of relocating I fear. I hope that a year down the line, this will be a different story and a distant memory.
In the midst of the house collapse in Southampton, Charlie is a ray of light, showing off a new skill daily it seems. Diligently I have stuck to a range of techniques to help him get to and stay asleep. The bastardization of controlled crying (leave them for prolonged periods) and pick up/put down seems to be reaping benefits, finally.
Implementing the sleep techniques has been far from easy and I have found that once he’s stopped crying and calm, leaving him for 5 minutes seems to do the trick; if not the first time then the second. If I leave him any longer he has a tendency to get stuck in his cot (usually limbs caught in the bars). Despite my best efforts he was still waking a couple of times a night. Perusing the internet one suggestion was to put him to bed a little earlier. Last night he went to sleep without a fuss at 7.15 pm and slept through until 6.00 am. Naturally I’ve been awake at regular intervals during the night. I think the techniques give me, as a parent, semblance of control, although I have been in absolute despair several nights. For Charlie, undoubtedly, it is the consistency of approach; think Pavlov.
There are so many variables one can never be absolutely sure whether it is the technique that’s working or something else in the equation. Additionally in the past two weeks I have stopped night feeding and have just about stopped breast feeding, excepting one fix in the morning. It was Charlie that led the decision. He likes to have some independence and this includes the freedom to see and be part of what’s going on around him. Breastfeeding in public was a hard task and I was often left sitting there with one tit out, feeling a little exposed, whilst Charlie joined in a conversation. With a bottle (Aptimal), Charlie can regulate what he has, when; and still get to be part of the action. I can now be sure that he’s getting sufficient milk during the day. Win win.
The key issue currently is sleep. Charlie has never been the greatest sleeper in the world, but recently there have been crunch points that have not helped. The first happened back in November when Charlie was poorly and this was finally diagnosed as a urinary tract infection (UTI), that then reoccurred. We’re now awaiting a referral to check that his kidneys are OK, but as of New Year’s Eve the infection has cleared. Understandably, I’ve been paranoid every time he wakes that he’s poorly again; lots of cuddles, night time feeds; I have undoubtedly exacerbated the sleep situation.
The second crunch point came when we moved to Dundee before Christmas. Disruption started prior to the move as the house was packed. Disruption continued as we elected to drive up, which meant an overnight stop, and then there was the adjustment to the new house. Over this time, I did my best to keep his routine as normal as possible and to ensure that he was surrounded by familiar things. However the best will in the world was not enough and certainly for the first 10 days in Dundee he was waking up to five times a night. I responded in desperation, again exacerbating the situation.
I started taking constructive action about ten days ago. Initially I tried the controlled crying technique, where you comfort, then leave the baby for increased periods of time. This didn’t work for us - Charlie just ended up yelling louder and getting really upset. Following some much needed advice from a friend (thanks Cath, eternally grateful) I’ve since started the pick up/put down method. This is a much gentler method whereby when the baby cries, you go in, pick up and immediately he’s stopped crying, put him back in the cot - and repeat ad infinitum. What I prefer about this method is that if there’s something else wrong (wind, etc) then it’s easily remedied by picking up and it’s easier to measure when he’s getting calmer by holding him.
Daytime naps are now, mostly, sorted. I’m still working on night times - however I’ve stopped the night time feeds. What seems to be the case is that the night feeds were further disrupting his sleep. Last night for example I did pick up/put down around 12.30 am. It took forty minutes, but he slept through until 7.15 am. Fingers crossed this technique continues to work and hopefully in a few weeks his sleeping will be sorted, until the next thing crops up.
I feel like a duck. I am constantly paddling furiously underwater, whilst trying to maintain the illusion of calmness and serenity above. There are crunch points over 24 hours when several things need to get done simultaneously and I’m still trying to find ways to drip feed them throughout the day. Ditto if Charlie and I go out; I then play ‘catch up’. Mother duck says, ‘Quack, quack, quack, quack’…
Charlie has two teeth. They exposed themselves several weeks ago, without issue. Rosy cheeks suggest there are more to come soon, although I’ve not resorted to any regular teething ointments as yet, excepting chilled teething rings. I’ve not yet mastered pain free breastfeeding. I don’t think Charlie understands ‘no’ yet, although I shut up shop when he bites down. It really hurts and I expect to find blood, but none as yet thankfully.
We are in the middle of a buggy nightmare. Having practically outgrown the travel system I bought off a work colleague, I’ve had to venture into the confusing world of pushchairs, three wheelers and combination car seats. The front room resembles a buggy scrapyard. Currently two Phil and Ted Sport v2 three wheelers have arrived and are now awaiting collection. The front wheels on both are faulty; the first was rusted shut, the second would only travel one way - making maneuverability nigh on impossible. Third time lucky we hope, otherwise Phil and Ted and Mothercare have had it and I’m shopping online at Pramworld.