9 months old. 2.5 years old.

What is it with being a parent? Non-parents won’t understand it. Its a fullest kind of love, a love to absolutely the end of the universe and so beautiful and full of wisdom to be gained. Its a mirror that doesn’t flinch in showing you your bests and worsts, too. And in the end you have to learn to let go. So it kind of sucks. But its exquisite in its design: it makes your heart expand, shows you your humanity, and notably your mortality, and then leaves you to live life. A woman I know spends time as a nanny and has decided she will never have kids. She sees how hard it is, sees how parents have no date nights and no time and get literally shit on all the time…but then she doesn’t have the perspective of the parent who even in the hardest times is full of a love that sustains them like food.
Being a parent has shown me, for the first time as I was not brought up inside a religion, the burden of ideology, too.
Since I am officially on the “attachment parenting” path it seems, I am suffering terrible sleeplessness that simply allowing my child to be more alone and less “attached” might potentially solve for the short term. But I can’t do it. I don’t believe in cry it out. I believe it’s tantamount to neglect. I can’t do it. So I don’t sleep. I think this is the burden of ideology. But, funnily enough, I also believe I am right in not letting my babies cry alone at night. I believe it so much I don’t sleep. Yes, this is the burden of ideology.

“I want some mo’ L-M-N-Os”!
referring to the M&Ms on his ice cream. (yes, he got a vaccine and as a treat he got ice cream and because he’s so cute he also got “L-M-N-Os”. I’m a bad mom, right?)

Laila is trying to walk. She’s taken some little stutter steps and then sits down on her bum. She’s pretty proud of it.

I have been having a pretty rough time of it lately. Having a second baby has been harder than I could ever have guessed. Partly this is because I make certain choices: co-sleep, baby wear, elimination communication, non-coercive “discipline”, and a whole hearted attempt at slow family living. This would all be perfect except that Laila still has terrible reflux, doesn’t sleep, and her older brother is still a baby himself. SO I find myself in a whirlwind of sleep deprived, pee covered, frozen burrito eating, tantrum hugging, everything to everyone mode. It’s not sustainable. Luckily though, babyhood is short. Unluckily, too.

Reflux is under appreciated as a disease. I’ve even met people who frowned on me using the word “disease” and want to hear “challenge” or some other tepid word. What do you call it when your baby is often inconsolable, can’t sleep, can’t hold down food, develops a cry that makes nurses cringe, and is in pain that has to be medicated by compounded versions of adult medicines? And around this the family is getting no sleep, is in a state of constant stress such that when the baby is not crying the whole family is walking around flinching at any sound and snapping at each other as if suffering PTSD? Add to that that no specialist can really help except to prescribe meds and the only cure (if there will be one at all) is time?
Well, that’s a challenge because its a disease.
But luckily we are nearing the other side of it. Laila is spending lots of days happy. She is a happy, active, fearless little baby girl and I am so in love with her. Finally now, after so much struggle, the lovefest has begun.
I am so lucky to have her.

In other news, I am beginning study with Russill Paul on the energy of sound and the way sound can organize, generate, and channel energy in the human body and psyche. This will lead to the use of mantra, but for now we are creating a base from which to leap and that is sanskrit and understanding the way sanskrit is pronounced, its energetic aspects and even how to write it. I have no idea when I will have time to fit this in. Again, I wasn’t sleeping anyway….

Grandpa came to visit us! Laila gave him the stink eye for a bit, but now she’s pretty sure she likes him. Not enough that he could hold her (NO one gets that honor). And Sufyan is just thrilled to have his grandpa here. Last night I explained that today, this morning, Grandpa has to leave. And he got sad and said, “I don’t like dat Mama.”


One thought on “9 months old. 2.5 years old.

  1. Oh the power of sound. Last night I needed to sing Rock a bye baby for 30 minutes before Clair asked to go to bed. Repeating it over and over as I rubbed her leg (apparently, a required part of the performance), I got into a state of mind I often experience doing Mantra Japa. I felt like we did a nice Yoga practice by the end. She is a demanding little teacher though. 30 minutes of Mantra Japa is a lot!

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