After another of those rare weekends with G off both days allowing us to go out and about with relative ease despite the weather, Monday saw M and I confined to the house as babywearing & pregnancy & ice & then snow didn’t seem a good combination. Given that we were going to be home for a few days anyway, I decided to attempt to get M into some kind of daily sleep routine which I hoped would help cross over into making night times easier. Bahahahahaah! next time I have a great idea like that, someone please stop me. Why I ever thought stepping away from my attachment parenting preferences would work for us, I have no idea. After three days of shouting, confrontations with neighbours and a worn out Mum and baby who wanted nothing more than cuddles, I decided that enough was just enough. I refuse to spend this precious time with my son sitting next to him as he screams, when I could be taking time out to hold him instead. That’s what he’s asking me for – why can’t I give that to him. So the nap training part of this week that make those days oh so so stressful was a waste of time but something clicked (inshallah): M seems much happier in his cot at night and has gone down regularly at 8.30/9pm all week! I’m holding out hope that we’re slightly more on track and if that means babywearing through our naps in the day to get a decent sleep for all in the night, sacrificing “me time” in the day for his nap time is worth it.
Sleep stuff aside, the week wasn’t half bad, and though both M and I were delighted to leave the flat together today, we enjoyed our confinement rather, too. leaving the house is important, good for him and good for me, but often unless you are forced to stay in, it can feel like you should be going out. Sometimes it really is nice for the break, to be home, in our pjs and do nothing but enjoy being here.
Tomorrow is our 12 week scan for baby 2. If we were in the UK, this would be our first scan, we wouldn’t have seen baby before. But that’s the thing – we have seen this baby, just not for a few weeks. With M, I wasn’t nervous, but today I just feel kind of shaky. So I’m still eating cheesecake – which might not help the shakeyness – and this morning I ate a not-quite-solid egg yolk this morning in a kind of denial-that-im-pregnant-yet-cant-deny-that-i-am kind of way. I want tomorrow to be here already. And I want to hear and to see our new baby.
M just went down to sleep (9.07pm..yay, yay, yay!) and as I tucked in his blankets around his new car covered pjs, I took a breath of his scent, stopped to gaze at his face. My sweet, giggly baby boy. Changing his nappy just before bed, he gave me his sock-less feet to kiss and as I blew bubbles on their souls I spoke to my boy: “When you’re 60,” I said, “if you want me to blow on your toes, just hold up your feet.” I hate feet. I love the hope I’ll see my baby when he’s 60. (And yes, I know it would be creepy to kiss a 60 year olds feet..but he’s my baby and what ya going to do?)