Six weeks in
Louisette is now six weeks old, which is about when I’m supposed to be fully recovered from giving birth. I was pretty much recovered by three weeks, but improvement has been slower since then. I’m now exercising four or five times a week, and have just started eating a little less chocolate (I hadn’t lost any weight for several weeks, and I have a good ten kilos to lose – particularly from my belly, which is big enough that I can’t wear normal clothes yet – and it prompts speculative looks wherever I go). I can do pretty much anything I used to be able to do, but I do take longer to recover afterwards. My breasts are still mildly painful.
As always, the crucial issues this week are breastfeeding and sleeping.
From Monday last week we had incontrovertible proof that Louisette needed more formula than she was getting, so we increased it at once. She’s meant to gain around 150 grams a week. Last week she gained 20 grams – but this week she gained over 200. In the last few days, she’s started to not always finish her bottles. That, and the slow increase of what I get from the breast pump, bodes well. Last week I said I was getting an additional 10ml of pumped breast milk a day. That was somewhat optimistic. It looks very much like I’ll need to take a whole lot of formula to China in a month’s time. I am still feeding Louisette 7-8 times a day, and using the pump a further 5-6 times a day. Generally, the largest amount of time I am free during the day is one and a quarter hours (although I move the pump times around a bit when I have stuff to do). It’s insane. It also means that “sleep when your baby sleeps” doesn’t work nearly as well as I’d like.
On the up side, she’s pretty good at sleeping at night. She usually sleeps 4-5 hours in a block. Without that, I’d be a wreck. People keep asking me if I’m okay, and I get the feeling that when I say I’m great they think I’m being nice. Regular readers will know I’m far more honest than nice. When I say I’m happy, you can believe it. It’s true that I’m low enough on sleep that I’m uncoordinated and sometimes light-headed.
I also have a life apart from Louisette: I’ve been able to do some sewing, and I’m editing a chapter of my steampunk novel each day. One of the things I truly enjoy about motherhood is the complete obsessive focus – but I still get antsy if I don’t do some writing every day (and blogging doesn’t quite count). Every day I do something outside of the house, and take Louisette with me. I enjoy being more mobile than I was when I was pregnant, and I think Louisette benefits too.
Louisette’s facial expressions continue to fascinate me. Here’s several photos from a single day – plus a couple of smiles and a pout for good measure.
Make a friend
This year, I did something extraordinary: I made a new friend. We met several years ago at a kind of careers fair for Christian missionaries – so we already have God and international aid/travel in common. She’s also smart and funny – and, since she recently returned from several years in Gambia, she’s rebuilding her life (very few friendships survive mission trips). It can be hard to make friends with introverts, so I invited her to a few group things so I could get to know her a little without either of us having to hold up the whole conversation. She said yes, so I knew she was willing to risk spending a little time with me. And a few weeks later, we didn’t need the crowd to help us along conversationally; we’d found enough in common. Voila! We’re actually friends. I love it when a plan comes together.
We both had birthdays recently, and it turns out that her family takes her blackberry picking in the pine forest each year. She brought a giant pot of fresh wild blackberries to dinner with myself and CJ. They were insanely delicious. She is one classy broad, and I’m incredibly impressed with myself for realising how much I wanted to get to know her better.
Steampunk Dress: Part 1
Okay, I’m not ENTIRELY finished the outer top layer that I was hoping to have finished by now. Too bad.
This section is designed to go over the top of the dress, and attach on to it around the waist (which is as high as I can get it). I think it would also work as a top in its own right.
The pieces:
The material is classique suiting (whatever that means – all I care about is it doesn’t seem to crease), with interfacing sewn on. I pinned the pieces together at the shoulders and sides, and then made adjustments – and did the same thing again (more accurately) once I’d actually sewn those seams.
As you can see below, it’s designed to open in two panels at the front, like overlapping doors. There will be buttons down the middle seam (I cut it so it’s closer to the middle and looks better), and a waistband beneath all this. First I need to gather or pleat the front bottom seam. I have some nice steampunky buttons ready to go. I’ll post pictures when it’s fully done.
I learnt a fair bit as I went along, most importantly that it doesn’t matter HOW much you tell yourself, “Don’t cut the tablecloth, don’t cut the tablecloth” – you’re going to cut the tablecloth.
Coming soon: Other bits! Grommets! Press studs! More startling events due to my creative methods!
Old, older, oldest
*I’m switching Steampunk Sunday with Miscellaneous Monday this week in hopes that I have something to show from the steampunk dress tomorrow. Wish me luck – with my sewing, I need it.*
I think that whatever age we first meet someone is the age they always are in our minds. My parents, to me, have barely aged in my lifetime. They’re still just. . . there. . . in a twilight region that’s much older than me but never truly old. It will be a great shock to me if they suddenly start having old-person health complaints.
I have another friend who is four years younger than me. As adults, that makes us effectively the same age – but we’ve known each other since primary school, and four years in childhood is a distance greater than the circumference of the earth. So I’m always underestimating his age, because to me he’s much, much younger than I am.
And I imagine this means that I will always look at Louisette and see the wide-eyed yet deeply suspicious baby that I love. Hopefully I’ll see all the other ages of her life too.
D.I.C.T.I.O.N.A.R.Y.
Here is a GREAT article on some common publishing terms. Some definitions vary a little from company to company, so make sure you always read and follow their specific instructions.
Some of the most basic are:
Full: A full manuscript.
Genre: The classification of books. Examples of genre in fiction include mystery, romance, science fiction, fantasy, nonfiction, and in nonfiction you might see sub-genres like business, health, parenting, pets, art, architecture, memoir, or current events.
Literary Agent: A literary agent works on behalf of the author to sell her book and negotiate with publishers. A literary agent also helps with career planning and development and sometimes editing and marketing.
Novel: Book-length fiction. Therefore, note that it is redundant to say “fiction novel.”
Partial: A partial is frequently what an agent will ask for when taking a book under consideration. For fiction and narrative nonfiction a partial usually includes a cover letter, a designated number of chapters from the book, and a synopsis. For non-narrative nonfiction a partial usually contains an extended author bio, an overview of the book, an expanded table of contents, detailed marketing and competitive information, and of course sample writing material (usually a chapter or two). Also called a Proposal.
Query: A one-page letter sent to agents or editors in an attempt to obtain representation. A query letter should include all of the author’s contact information—name, address, phone, email, and Web site—as well as the title of the book, genre, author bio if applicable, and a short, enticing blurb of the book. A query letter is your introduction and sometimes only contact with an agent and should not be taken lightly.
SASE: Short for self-addressed, stamped envelope, a requirement for any author who wants a reply to a snail-mailed query.
Slush/Slush Pile: Any material sent to an agent or an editor that has not been requested.
Synopsis: A detailed, multipage description of the book that includes all major plot points as well as the conclusion.
“Brilliance of the Moon” by Lian Hearn. Book 4 of 4.5
This is the final book in the original Otori clan trilogy (there is a prequel, which I love, and a sequel, which I don’t like). Lord Otori Takeo is denying his peaceful upbringing and fleeing his genetic inheritance of supernatural skills as an assassin – and he is fighting for his rights as the adopted son of the Otori clan.
Between them, Takeo and the love of his life, Lady Shirakawa Kaede, can bring peace to the three countries. But the enemies arrayed against them include the corrupt Otori lords who stole their place twenty years earlier; the newly-risen lord who once saved Lady Shirakawa’s life; and the Tribe, who have bent all their supernatural skill on seeing Takeo killed for his defiance of their demands.
It is a climactic end to the trilogy, and ultimately it is as painful and beautiful as all the rest. Do yourself a favour and read the prequel and the trilogy. They’re just brilliant.
Free sample (when Takeo comes across the aftermath of a massacre by members of the Tribe; only a boy is left alive):
‘What happened?’ I said.
His teeth were chattering but he tried to speak normally, his voice coming out louder than he’d intended. ‘Two men came through the roof. They strangled Kitano and Tsuruta. Someone else slashed the tethers and panicked the horses. My father ran after them, and when he came back inside the men cut him open with their knives.’
He fought back the sob. ‘I thought they’d gone,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t see them! They came out of the air and cut him open.’
‘Where were you?’
‘I was in the storeroom. I hid. I’m ashamed. I should have killed them!’
Rating: M/MA for sex, violence, and violent sex (never gratuitous, but it’s there)
The Muppets Movie
Saw it last week (yep, that’s right – I left the house and everything).
Jason Segal and Amy Adams pretty much ARE muppets. They’re so G-rated it’s almost creepy (but isn’t creepy. At all). They’re so likeable you almost hate them (maybe I did actually, a little – I hate the “if you can dream it, you can do it” genre in all its forms).
This movie was incredibly sweet and heart-warming and dorky, with a whole lot of big star cameos (I was so disappointed Neil Patrick Harris didn’t sing) and a surprising number of genuinely funny lines (“Boy, that explosion looked expensive”). Jason Segal was one of the writers, and I’m pretty impressed. His humour is very childish and G-rated – again, perfect for the muppets. Kermit as always is brilliant, Miss Piggy is. . . Miss Piggy. . . and the rest are just as hapless and loveable as ever.
The singing and dancing was very well done – yes, that’s right, it’s a musical. A highlight was the song “Am I a Muppet or a Man?” featuring a familiar face from The Big Bang Theory TV show.
The main character was Twilight-esque in the sense that he was a blank slate for viewers to project themselves onto.
I’d actually recommend NOT seeing this on the big screen. Muppets don’t benefit from being made giant. But if you have a kid, you’ll enjoy watching this movie with them.
Mamma Me
I love my life – and not just because the thrill of not being pregnant is still fresh. Like I said from the very beginning of the pregnancy, I desperately needed a meaningful challenge in my life – and becoming a mother is everything I could have hoped for. I really am happier than I’ve ever been, and I’m still overwhelmed with joy that the last seven years of existential pain have finally lost their grip on me.
Louisette is one gorgeous baby, which certainly helps.
Also, her facial expressions are endlessly fascinating (it seems the wall of her stroller is making threats).
She is seriously adding facial expressions to her repertoire daily. When her life began, she had two: asleep and crying. Then she added gazing – still a favourite. Now she has suspicion, surprise, shock, interest (different with familiar and unfamiliar objects), mischief, delight, smiling, grinning, sleepiness (rather than going straight to crying), pouting (ditto), and more. She doesn’t know how to use them all correctly, but who cares?
Feeding continues to be the major drama. After wildly differing weight reports (from different scales), I now weigh Louisette every Monday at a baby clinic. After two weigh-ins, it became perfectly clear that I wasn’t feeding Louisette enough (I’ll not delve into how THAT makes me feel*), so from last Monday afternoon I drastically increased the amount of formula with which I’m supplementing her feeds. She’s now having 75mls of formula about five times a day (out of seven or eight feeds). She’s also peeing up to twice an hour, and spitting up so much that it was difficult to find a dry patch in her cot last night (I certainly won’t be changing the sheets six times a day – and she doesn’t just spit up immediately after a feed, but at any time of day or night).
All is not lost on the breastfeeding front: she breastfeeds every feed (before any bottles are offered) and is still certainly getting some of her nutrition that way (maybe half or so – if it was just formula, she’d need 100 to 150 mls every feed).
In order to build up my milk supply, I’m sticking to three-hourly feeds (at this age, she’d normally start feeding as little as five times a day), and in between every daytime feed I’m on the pump (aka milking machine) sending the message to my breasts that they’re not meeting demand (and the supply does seem to be increasing by about 10mls a day).
This effectively means I’m breastfeeding twelve times a day (and carefully coordinating the pumping into that half-hour window that is one hour after the actual feed and one hour before the next feed – giving the breasts time to refill). It’s physically and mentally exhausting, and it still hurts every time (at this stage, mainly just because twelve times a day is so ridiculous), so I’m eating a horrifying amount of chocolate and lollies to keep myself physically and (more importantly) mentally up to the task. (I’m pretty depressed about my weight and pregnant shape, but at least it’s not getting significantly WORSE. . .) This means that my maximum amount of free time is now one hour and fifteen minutes – so daytime napping is pretty unlikely (Louisette doesn’t sleep on cue, either) – and I’m sometimes left staring helplessly at a crying baby that I can’t hold because I have to hold the pump in place.
BUT she is noticeably more content since getting more formula (again, proof I was causing her pain, but oh well*) – she would be sleeping well, except the nappies and spitting up tends to wake her. Night time is still mostly good. Last night and the night before she slept for five hours in one go, and both nights I actually woke her for a feed (she’s almost six weeks, so from next week I’ll start letting her sleep longer, since her digestive system will be able to handle it). That bodes VERY well.
Also, we’ve introduced that sweet sweet saviour of parents everywhere: the dummy.
The dummy is most useful as an artificial tool for sending babies to sleep (as they learn how to settle, they need a series of predictable steps). Two weeks ago I wrote that we’d moved Louisette from needing a feed to get to sleep, to needing to be held. Now she doesn’t need to be held – she just needs to be wrapped and given a dummy.
But.
Like all babies, she lacks the ability to hold onto the dummy. In a ten minute period she can easily drop it six times, and awaken and cry each time. A couple of weeks ago, her going to sleep process was to cry for around half an hour in my arms, then drop off, and after fifteen minutes of sleep she was deeply enough asleep to be put down without waking up. Now, I put her down with the dummy and supervise for about an hour and a half, constantly replacing the dummy, and then she falls asleep (and after about fifteen minutes is deeply enough asleep to lose the dummy without waking up). So it takes a LOT longer – but everyone’s happier (and I can use the pump when she’s be-dummied – just pausing to replace the dummy however many times it’s needed – which is extremely important). So overall we’re very lucky with the whole sleep process. Plus, when she has the dummy she’s wide-eyed and wondering for about an hour, which is still very beautiful.
On Sunday CJ and I took a one-and-a-quarter hour outing to a secondhand bookshop. It was fun. Despite my time restrictions, I still leave the house at least once every day – I enjoy the challenge, and it is worth skipping one pumping session. Tomorrow CJ’s parents are babysitting and we’re going to re-watch “Sherlock Holmes: A Game of Shadows” at the ANU film group.
*Not as bad as, say, leaving her in the pool for “just a second” while I answer the inside phone, then living with the fatal consequences for the rest of my life.
On Monday I felt. . . not good. . . but now I’ve solved the problem it’s in the past and doesn’t matter any more.
Embrace your placebo
I’m honestly not allowed to diet at present, because that’s sure to dry up my milk supply. I’m also meant to stay relaxed (“RELAX, or your baby will STARVE!”)
Time to bring in my favourite form of self-medication:
Need I say more?
You know you’re a mum when. . .
-you find yourself washing dishes at 3am, because you “had a spare moment”.
-ditto blogging.
-ditto brushing your teeth.
-when you lie down to sleep, a drill sergeant in your head says, “Sleep! Now! Hurry up! Stop wasting time and sleep! NOW!”
-you can eat spaghetti one-handed.
-you already have four different hairstyles that don’t require a mirror. Or a brush.
-you never cry over spilt milk – heck, you don’t even wash your shirt until it’s been a few days.
-you look at other people’s kids and think, “Boy, they look heavy.”
-personal grooming is a privilege, not a right.
-the same does not stand for personal hygeine.
-well, not on the days you leave the house, anyways.
-you miss your baby when she’s asleep.
-even crying is cute – sometimes.
Felicity Banks 