Throwing the Baby Books Out the Nursery Window

Longtime readers - all two of you - will recall when I was cramming for Master P's arrival as if my AmEx credit limit depended on it. Though I suspected - correctly - that such study was foolish and destined to drive me a little batty, I tore through those tomes as if some dreamy emo teenage vampire lurked within their pages. The lawyer in me just couldn't leave well enough alone, believing somewhere deep down that there was no situation for which I couldn't cram.

(Stop laughing. We'll get to my comeuppance shortly.)

And then the actual baby arrived (cue laughter), and all of course all time to read came to an immediate halt, and I was forced to do as Yoda does and just . . . do. I couldn't put down the newborn Master "Fussypants" P long enough to consult those baby expert - ahem, "expert", books complete with annoying air quotes - books, and even if I'd been tempted, I was too pooped to comprehend written English anyways. I was forced to wing it & hope that my exhausted brain could recall a scrap or two of the "expert" advice I'd read.

Cue a few or six months later, when life with Master P eased a bit - read: he started sleeping through the night, in his crib and, lo, Heaven itself opened while the angels did sing! - and I now have a bit of time to do things like gather up my baby study materials for a pregnant relative. Thrilled to pack & send those "expert" guides along, I thumbed through those well-worn pages again to see the myriad ways in which I'd done it all wrong:

- Sleep: As a brand new baby, Master P would sleep in one place and one place only - the hospital. Once we arrived home from the maternity ward, he let out an ear-piercing shriek whenever put in the bassinet we'd so carefully selected for him based on the Baby Expert advice. Given that full-time hospital residence didn't appeal, the AH & I were forced to devise a sleeping arrangement in which either us or the baby, and preferably both, actually slept.

We tried a number of options - co-sleeping! the bouncy chair! hanging him by his toes upside down from the shower curtain! - before happening upon this miraculous swing. We wrapped up Master P burrito-style, strapped him into the swing, turned it up to full speed, and finally, finally our babe nodded off for a few hours.

I suspected that the Baby Expert Books didn't approve of this sleeping arrangement - rather unanimously so, based on my recent review - but needing sleep ourselves & armed with our pediatricians blessing, we swung away. We ultimately happened upon a few other illicit nap enablers which occasionally worked (the car ride & the Ergo carrier) before transitioning him to his crib around 4 months, but prior to that, the swing was the thing.

When inevitably asked by other parents how Master P was sleeping, I'd mumble something incoherent before guiltily blurting out, "He sleeps in his swing but we're confident he won't go to kindergarten like this ohmigod please tell me he won't go to kindergarten sleeping in his swing I'm a terrible mother" Just as inevitably, the parents would furtively glance from side to side before whispering to me, "It's ok; our Max only slept in his car seat for the first six months. You'll be fine."  In fact, you'd be hard pressed to find a newborn who did sleep when & where his or her parents thought he would (file under: "Why didn't anyone mention this to me before baby?").

When Master P had passed the newborn stage, and it was time to transition him to sleeping in the crib, I began a new round of worry / frantic reading / trial & error about the sleep training process - for the uninitiated, there's a whole Baby Expert subset of Baby Sleep Experts too. Sigh. 

In any event, armed with an phalanx of "expert" knowledge, I then went about putting it into practice; like with so many things baby, no one approach actually worked, despite my desperate attempts to enforce them to the letter. Like a serial dieter, I worked my way through one over-zealous theory to the next. However, over the course of a few months, it became clear that the "few days" of training (ie, putting baby down to sleep awake so he learns to fall asleep on his own) promised by the Baby Sleep Experts would in fact take weeks, that Master P wanted less naps & more nighttime sleep than any Expert deemed acceptable (note that my pediatrician deemed it perfectly fine), and that he'd occasionally require the highly frowned upon rocking to sleep for naps. And That Was That.

The moral of my sleep story - you know, since I have one entire baby and am therefore an expert on this racket - is to trial & error your way to what works for your own particular baby, run it by your pediatrician (who, I guarantee, has heard it & something much stranger before), and do what (safely) works, "Experts" be hanged. Despite Master P's non-expert-endorsed beginnings, he now usually sleeps when & where he is supposed to, and therefore, so can the AH & I. Bliss.

- Nursing: Ah, the breastfeeding booby bomb. I will not - not - get into the business of telling you what to do with your own ladybits & babe when it comes to this, nor am I terribly comfortable talking about my own chesticular endeavors. However, in case it's helpful to someone else, I will say this; I'd very much hoped to nurse Master P for the American Academy of Pediatrics' & Baby Expert Books 1-year recommended minimum, and in reality struggled to last just shy of 6 months while supplementing with formula.

You know that guy (or girl; we're equal opportunity here at the Pretty) who was perfect for you on paper? The one you wanted desperately to like, who you tried over & over again to fall in like with, but in reality he just wasn't the right fit? That's how nursing was for us.

 Master P took 45 minutes to an hour to nurse each & every time, often mewling in hunger even after that, despite the Baby Expert Books, 2 pediatricians, and 3 lactation consultants assuring me that it wasn't possible, and even if it was, he'd grow out of it (hint: he didn't). I can't tell you the crippling guilt that comes with being unable to feed your hungry, bawling babe, and how awful I felt having to supplement many of his meals while taking nursing supplements & doing extra time on the nursing pump.

At an hour a pop, eight to 12 times per day, Master P's nursing sessions also made it impossible for me to travel more than 10 minutes from home unless I was going somewhere I could set up the Milk Bar camp - a sexy visual if I've ever heard of one (you're welcome!); it made running simple errands like getting to the grocery store challenging if not impossible. Perhaps selfishly, it made me feel like a prisoner in my own home - a guilt ridden prisoner, that is, since the Boob Brigade (which I talk about here, and some random named Tina Fey describes in an actually hilarious, much better way here) had thoroughly indoctrinated me by this point. I also felt as if my body were still pregnant and, as a result, not yet my own again.

After limping along with nursing for a couple of months, I had a conversation (guilt-ridden, of course) with my pediatrician, who agreed that nursing to six months was more than sufficient. And, at our designated quitting point, I felt . . . utterly (udderly? I know, terrible...) relieved, to be honest. Thrilled that I could know with more certainty now that my baby was getting sufficient nutrition. Happy to see and feel my body morph back to a semblance of its old self, that I could actually meet a friend for lunch and not have to leave early to rush home; again, these may be selfish concerns, but any steps back to my pre-baby life helped me feel like my entire self hadn't been subsumed by Babyland.

The moral of this story is - again, since I'm such an expert with my one child - is . . . . do what you think is best, health-wise and sanity-wise, for your baby & for you, which may not be what you thought it might pre-baby, and with your pediatrician's input, of course. I may (I will) judge the clothes you're wearing, but I will not judge your choice or ability to nurse. For me, I'm glad I tried it, and I'll try again should there be any future Masters or Misses P here, but I'll also try be kinder to myself if it doesn't work.

Anyone else care to share the many ways you tossed the baby book advice out the nursery window?