High Needs Child Series: Sleep is a Luxury

Over the next few weeks I shall be publishing stories about coping with a high needs child from different mothers' perspectives... Sleepless nights, constant crying, colic, nursing around the clock and dealing with life threatening illnesses and conditions. I shall start the series off this week with my story, one of little sleep, a lot of self-questioning and mountains of patience that I didn't think I ever had. I didn't even know what a high needs child was until Luna was around 18 months old, and then everything kind of made sense to me... We just ended up figuring things out together along the way. I hope that these stories will help other mothers with high needs children feel less alone.

I skimmed through Dr Sears’ The Baby Book right before I gave birth, looking for last minute tips on how to establish breastfeeding and how to get through labour without needing meds. I loved his writing style and how he promoted all types of attachment parenting logic, and the book actually made me feel all warm and fuzzy inside. Then it was put back into my bookcase to be forgotten about and never really revisited, not until months and months later when I was frantically searching “18 month sleep regressions” on Google that I came across a Dr Sears article on high needs children. For the first time in 18 months I actually felt like I hadn’t done anything wrong with Luna, or failed her in some way. She ticked every single box on his list. “High needs child” was finally something that I could use to explain everything without searching through my sleep-deprived brain for an answer to why my child never slept, never wanted to be apart from me and had meltdowns over just about anything.

No one ever expects to have a high needs child (unless you already have one and just assume it’s the norm). There are no warning bells that go off during your pregnancy, or right after delivery. I remember getting a cab home from the hospital in Brooklyn to Queens, and getting stuck in horrendous traffic on the BQE, and a 2 day old Luna screaming and screaming. That basically became our norm for many months.

I had bought an adorable little bassinet for her months beforehand, and her little 18 inch body looked so tiny in it. Swaddled or unswaddled she refused to sleep in it, falling asleep contentedly in my arms and screaming as soon as I put her down. Those first nights I wondered if it was me, was I not nursing her properly? Was she hungry like the nurse had said in the hospital? Was I an absolute failure at breastfeeding and actually starving my child? Dr Google told me to count her diapers and she was peeing and pooping more than enough, so that wasn’t the issue. Cesar went back to his 80 hour a week job and needed all the sleep he could get so I just moved to the couch where I could nurse the baby for hours and hours and watch entire seasons of shows with zombie eyes, hoping to be able to place her on her lounger for a few minutes in order to close my eyes for a while.

I followed the advice of creating a routine and sticking to it and it didn’t make one ounce of difference. She would never nap according to a schedule unless I popped her in the sling and went out for a walk, not too far mind you because if she woke up suddenly I was in for it. She had her bath at the same time every night, and loved it, followed by baby massage and a story and then I would nurse her to sleep, but about two weeks in she would start crying hysterically at that point, body completely rigid, and nothing would soothe her. I would text Cesar hysterical texts myself, not that he could do anything either seeing as he was at work… Eventually I figured out that maybe she was overtired or gassy or both and moving everything a half an hour earlier and adding a few drops of gripe water and some leg bicycling to the mix seemed to fix the regular 7:30pm on the dot hour of screaming.

It didn’t fix the actual sleeping issue. Everyone tells you to sleep when you can, sleep when the baby sleeps. You know that you aren’t going to get a full 8 hours of sleep anymore, but what happens when you actually have a baby that never sleeps? How do you actually get by on 20 to 30 minutes of sleep a night (literally) because your child will only sleep in your arms (and yes we tried everything, she even rejected the stroller). I know people probably thought I was exaggerating or doing something wrong, so I just stopped talking about it except to those I knew really understood. I dreamed of just two hours of uninterrupted sleep. There were days when I thought I would actually sell my soul willingly for just an hour of sleep.

We adapted. A friend of mine bought us a baby swing around the two month mark and Luna ended up sleeping in it for two to even three hours at a time at the beginning of the night and it saved my sanity. She even slept in it at night (not proud of that but it was the only place she would actually sleep for more than 20 minutes apart from my arms), but in the end I was so tired and after three months just couldn’t face any more sleepless nights, and gave in and took her in the bed with us. I suppose if I had done that from day one I would have saved myself and Luna a lot of tears, but I was just following what everyone said to do. Of course now I know that safe bedsharing is absolutely fine and am not worried about it, but I felt so guilty at the time! That said, at 2.5 years old Luna still sleeps with us and still nurses around the clock so they don’t just “grow out of it” like that.

I would see people mention “sleep regressions”… We never had any of that because she never slept anyway. Teething? It was apparent when she became more fussy than usual, but as fussiness was our norm anyway it was never actually too bad (and all of the molars came through without me even really noticing too much of a difference in mood). Going out? Cesar and I went out once together when she was about 6 months old and she cried for a lot of the time that we were out (three hours tops). We didn’t revisit that until her sister’s birth nearly a year later. Going out altogether? It was a struggle, but I’m one of those people who won’t give into my fears easily, so I used to push through them and learnt how to breastfeed just about anywhere in public (without a cover because if I ever tried to cover her, her banshee screams could be heard for miles). I learnt that it was OK to cancel on something if I didn’t feel like we could make it through without a meltdown (and we cancelled a lot of things the first year). I can’t praise Ergo enough for creating a comfortable contraption that not only helped us navigate trips into the city and grocery shopping, but also through simple activities like walking to the park, making dinner and vacuuming. There is no way I would have got anything done without our precious baby carriers. I used to take her into the city by myself, go visit friends, walk around with her strapped to me, always with a little bubble of fear that her mood would suddenly change and we would be stuck on the subway with nowhere to go to. She always refused to have a pacifier, which I’m happy about now, but I was always jealous of those babies who would suck contentedly on their paci in their strollers.

Luna is two and a half years old now, and still very much a high needs child. She’s extremely smart; fiercely independent in some ways and still very clingy in others. She nurses as often as her little sister and still wakes up several times during the night and fights naps during the day. She has very nervous tendencies, biting her nails when she feels uncomfortable or crowded, and has to have everything her way or she has a meltdown. She loves to walk everywhere, but if she gets tired wants to be carried instead of sitting in the stroller, and although I hate to admit it, I use a lot of bribing tactics to just get us to places. A lot of my days are spent trying to avoid a meltdown of some sorts, figuring out in my head how long we can do something, or the best time to do something… Sometimes I am surprised at how flexible she has become over time, and then other times I realize that everything can change in a second. She is an absolute delight, the sweetest little thing, and she will be a strong and determined young woman one day, conquering everything that life throws in front of her. She also tests my own abilities and patience every single day, and although at the end of the day I sometimes want to just curl up, spent, I also know that she chose us as her parents because she knew that we would all be able to figure it out together. And that’s what we do, one step at a time. There is no rush for her to be potty trained, to sleep in her own bed or to wean, she will be ready for all of these things when she’s ready, and that is fine by me.

I do understand that people don’t understand. It’s fine, I’m not asking them to. I do however ask that people respect the decisions that we make as parents, because for the most part I know exactly how Luna is going to react in any given situation and also that while she may seem fine at the time, we often all suffer from it for days afterwards. One missed nap can mean two days of tantrums and meltdowns. I have had to ask her pediatrician and cardiologist to make a note on her file that she finds visits very stressful and to be as gentle as possible so that we can work on making her realize that doctors and nurses are there to help and not hurt her. Getting frustrated with her usually just escalates any situation, and that is something that I also need to work on myself every day. It’s hard. Luna can detect my moods and emotions easily and I have to constantly check myself to see that she doesn’t notice my own anxiety or sadness.

I think that having a second child really helped me work through a lot of the feelings of parental failure I felt through the first year of Luna’s life. As babies, Aurora and Luna were like night and day, even though we proceeded in the same fashion with both of them… It just showed me that no child is the same, and that having one high needs child doesn’t mean that you will have another. And that some children actually like to sleep. All kids like to have the odd tantrum though… No one gets out of those!

I bet people wonder why we decided to have another child amidst all of this sleep deprivation… I guess I thought it would pass by the time she could speak?! We were actually more than prepared for years and years of never sleeping again, so you probably can imagine my surprise when Aurora started sleeping through the night two weeks after being born. But don’t worry, she doesn’t do that anymore, she loves to wake up at least three times, and still sleeps in bed with us too. Teething has been a real long, drawn-out pain for this poor little one and her new trick is to try to nurse for hours during the night. So don’t worry, these dark circles won’t be leaving my eyes very soon!

I wouldn’t have had it any other way to be honest. I’ve learnt a lot about myself over the past three years, my own strengths and weaknesses, and that in the end we adapt to our environments and to our young. They are only little once, and in my opinion this is the time to help them feel both safe and independent at the same time, even if they don’t make it easier for us. I’m glad that I had my high needs child first. Because after those first few months I was ready for anything, and still am. Long-term sleep deprivation and a full day of work at home while making sure the kids aren’t killing each other? I got it! (As Luna would say). I still feel like I have failed both kids sometimes, but I also know that that is not correct, and have to cut myself some slack sometimes. No one is perfect, and no one will ever be perfect. All we can thrive to be is the best that we can most of the time. 

The Dr Sears article that I came across can be found here. The checklist describes Luna to a tee.

The Childhood Stories

Over the past month or so I had had a collection of stories published up on Life with my Little Duck starting off during my teenage years, moving into my 20's and then ending today. It was a really interesting trip through thoughts and memories so I thought I would provide a little recap here and link them all in one place for anyone who would like to take a little journey through a few decades and a few countries... Five years ago I started to write a book loosely based on my life/experiences, but I gave up because it was both too close to home and because I didn't think anyone would be interested. I am now putting together several collections of essays which I think will be easier for me to work on and actually finish. In any case, here are the links to all of the stories... Thanks to Ally for publishing all of these stories, as well as many other wonderful and heartbreaking ones. You can see all of the stories from her Childhood Series up on her blog here. 

The Invisibility Cloak - wrap yourself in it as soon as you leave the house...

Survival Modes - high school is a real minefield.

Run, Run Away - everything is just too much and there is no escape.

Young Heart, Old Soul - a different life in different places.

Never Let Go of the Rainbow - a decade in a city that never sleeps.

Everything will be alright
Everything will turn out fine
Some nights I still can't sleep
And the voices pass with time
The Sisters of Mercy - Time To Cry

Immigration Series: Henna from the Heart

Here is Henna's story straight from the heart. Daughter of Indian immigrants, growing up Punjabi and American, navigating through the mix cultures and finding herself right there, right in the middle of it. Actually this isn't really Henna's story, as she talks about her father, but really it is. You will understand what I mean after you have read it... (And if you don't like curse words then I suggest you move along, as Henna loves to curse and there is no way I am editing her writing because it shoots straight from the fucking heart).

Before I dive into the topic of immigration, my story, and my father, I want to remind everyone that in the end of our lives we do not take this body with us, so to fear someone based on their appearance, their religion, or sexual orientation is just plain fucking stupid. People I want to remind you that when we die all this shit stays behind. Your hair, your eyes, your art, and the trees that surround you. They are all fucking staying here when you die. Oh God I sound dark again. Quite frankly, I’m just trying to make a point. I shit rainbows I swear. I also take pictures of pretty flowers all the time. Anyways, my point is that we are not immortal, so do you want to spend this life fearing and hating what you don't know or do you want to dive into it and grow from it?

There is a lot of fear and hate that surrounds the topic of immigration. Hate’s mother is fear. Fears births hate. It’s really that simple.

The Mexicans are taking my jobs.

There are too many black people.

The Indians are taking over IT.

The Asians are taking over our neighborhood.

I don’t like her hijab.

She sounds like a redneck.

I bet they have small dicks.

Why are they here?

These are all sentences with an undertone of fear or hate. You wanna know what my response is to these motherfuckers?

GIVE ME A FUCKING BREAK. IF YOU WANT TO DO SOMETHING THEN FUCKING DO IT. STOP BLAMING OTHER PEOPLE FOR YOUR LACK OF SUCCESS. WORK FUCKING HARDER. STOP COMPLAINING. WHY ARE YOU ALLOWING HATE TO HAVE A PLACE IN YOUR LIFE? LOVE BABY LOVE!! THIS IS YOUR LIFE. FILL YOUR SPIRIT WITH ALL THAT IS AMAZING IN THIS WORLD.  STOP FOCUSING ON OTHERS. WHY DO YOUR CARE SO MUCH ABOUT THEIR APPEARANCE? IS IT HARMING YOU? WHAT? YOU JUST DON’T LIKE? BABY YOU’RE WASTING PRECIOUS MOMENTS OF YOUR LIFE HATING THINGS FOR NO REASON. LIVE THIS LIFE AND FUCK IT LIKE YOU WOULD THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE. IF YOU DON’T HAVE ONE THEN PRETEND. I LOVE HUMANITY AND THEREFORE I LOVE YOU TOO. YEAH I DON’T KNOW YOU, BUT WE’RE HERE IN THIS WORLD TOGETHER, SO LETS JUST ENJOY AND LEARN TOGETHER.

BESOS, AMIGOS.

… OK maybe I wouldn't say the besos part, but everything else I would. Yeah I’m being blunt. Maybe I just wrote a really long rant, but my intentions are for the love of humanity.

Oh fuck, right my story!! Sorry readers. I’m a little scatter brained. I also confuse my left and rights all the time. Last night I took a cab from Manhattan to Brooklyn and I kept messing up my left and rights. As you can imagine my driver wanted to murder me. Is there a term for people who fuck up their left and rights all the time? Oh fuck. I did it again.

Ok Immigration. My story. Let’s get into that. I’m an American Citizen. I don't have a crazy immigration story. Actually you know what? Let’s talk about me in another blog post. This shit is getting long. I've got mad emotions and opinions and stories people.

I want to talk about my father right now. Let me tell you about him. My daddy is an immigration lawyer and is one of the most inspiring, charismatic, and giving people I know. My father came to this country after marrying my mother. So mom put a marriage advertisement in the Indian newspaper and after all the men who responded my father was the one who stole her heart. I’m going to be honest with you. My mother was vain as fuck. She thought he was the best looking guy after all the guys she met. I mean she did mention that he also came off as good person too, but I know my mommy. She thought he was hot. Great for baby making.

Dad went to law school. Passed the bar exam on his first try and then opened up his own practice within 5 years of just being in America. Dad did it. He made it in America. Then he got famous. Dad had commercials for his law firm playing constantly on ZeeTV (An Indian television channel). Man, when dad would come on TV I would light up. I was 7, but I was proud to be his daughter. The commercials aren't there today, but he still has an advertisement in the Indian newspaper. He has for over 20 years now. If I mention my father’s name to any cab driver of Indian descent they know immediately who he is. My father has given people the opportunity to freedom and a better life. He is a man who came from poverty and has never forgotten his roots. This man never makes a trip to India without giving back to his people. He sends money for his relatives to give to people on the streets of India. If one poverty stricken child wants ice cream then he’ll buy everyone ice cream. If another girl says I don't want ice cream I want flour, so I can make roti, then he’s going to buy over 30 bags of flour for the beggars on the street. By the way this is a true fucking story.

I could talk about my father for hours and tell you all the amazing things this immigrant has done, but it’s time for me to conclude. Freedom is everyone’s right. Everyone should have an opportunity for love, family, and even all the fuck-ups that come with life because not everything bad is bad and not everything good is good. In the end we learn from the good and bad. Who are we to deny anyone of these good and bad experiences?

The definition of humanitarian is:

1. Having concern for or helping to improve the welfare and happiness of people
2. Pertaining to the saving of human lives or to the alleviation of suffering
3. A person actively engaged in promoting human welfare and social reforms

If we all had the heart of a humanitarian then immigration wouldn't be so scary.

NO FEAR: Reflections After a Year

I asked Henna to write a guest post on From the Inside a while ago, and she decided to write about losing her mother, one year along. Henna and I have known each other for quite a few years now, going from coworkers to very close friends, watching each other grow in different ways and take on different responsibilities. Henna's absolute love of life, people and freedom is so engaging and her warmth and passion for everything she takes on are formidable. Losing a parent is never easy, I can attest to that, and Henna and her family watched their mother fight that evil disease known as cancer for many, many years. This is Henna's letter to us all about love, loss and freedom, and I hope that we can all take a little of it and keep it close to our hearts. RIP Amarjit Kaur Chawala, I hope your new playground is larger and easier than the last one.

There are moments that I’ve missed and then there are moments that have ignited me. Moments where I was afraid and moments where I said fuck it. And many moments where I literally told everyone and anyone I love you. Why? Because honestly, when you lose a mother at 23 the value of life becomes very transparent. You learn that we are all not here forever.  And that we choose how we live and all our realities are the ones that we create and agree to be a part of.

Losing a mother alters the world around you immediately. Now your surroundings are a jungle. Now I must survive because mommy is not here to hold my hand. Yes, I have dad, but we know that it’s not the same. I can’t bitch about how big my boobs got last summer to daddy. I mean I could, but I’d prefer not to.

 In the days that I’ve missed holding Mom’s hand I have cried a lot. I’ve had many walks home from work where I couldn't stop crying. It’s easier to cry in the dark. No one can see you. Oh God, that was a dark statement. I swear I’m a really funny person. I just cry sometimes. I’m human and humans cry, you know? I think crying is critical to the human experience. Like honestly, how do I know I love you if I can’t cry about you? If I can’t cry about you then I probably fucking hate you. JK JK JK. SMILY EMOJI WITH TEETH. This is just a dark topic. I’ve got to somehow make this tragic shit funny.

Anyways, the funny thing about death is that it doesn't stop time even though it initially feels that way. Death is a pause for the person not here anymore. I say pause because I don’t think mom has gone. I just think the universe has taken her to another place to play. Mom always said that the purpose of life was to play and that this world is our playground.

Mom was a wise woman, but she was always plagued with restriction, worried thoughts, and fear of judgment. She wouldn't allow herself be free and watching her die at 55 with all these fears was heartbreaking. Mom was afraid. She was afraid of death. She was afraid of the unfamiliar. I’ve had many nights where I thought her fear killed her. When people are afraid there are a limited amount of windows where light can shine through and remind them that it’s not that serious and that everything will be ok. I knew there weren't that many windows around Mom and holding her hand felt like the best way to reassure her and bring her some light.

In the last year, I’ve spent many moments dissecting fear and what this word means because in the beginning I was afraid. Afraid of possibly losing my father. Afraid of confessing my pain. Afraid of my future. Afraid of letting people see me. Afraid of being a good older sister. Afraid to even cry.

I had to let go of my anxieties. I discovered that the heart of anxiety is fear. That the only way to turn it off was to say the words ‘I am not afraid’. This sentence turns on all the lightbulbs and suddenly, I know that I am in the right place in the right time in my life. My trust grows and my faith in the universe expands every time I say these words. I can say I’ve become a much calmer person now and this is because I am not afraid.

Hi, my name is Henna like the tattoo and I'm confessing my freedom. In this last year I’ve probably taken too many risks, done a lot of stupid things, kissed a lot of dumb men, but I regret none of it. I don't regret my journey to my personal freedom. So yeah bitches, now I'm fearless and fucking my playground real good. I would recommend that anyone reading this do the same. Just play real hard everyone. It’s worth it. And for all those you see caged in the fear come at them with love because that will be the beginning of their freedom. 

You can find Henna on Instagram and on Facebook, and also probably running around the streets of NYC somewhere, chasing an adventure.

Henna today, looking much more like her mother than she realises.

Fiction: A Story of Oblivion

Ah, those years between 18 and 22 when you are supposed to be "sorting your life out"... When your emotions range from euphoric to despair in the space of minutes, even seconds. Another chapter from the book I never finished. Another excerpt can be found on the blog under the title Run, Run Away.

It’s too hard to get out of bed today. I know that the moment I step out from under the covers I am going to have to deal with life again, and I just wish, for one day, that I didn’t have to deal with it. Just one day, world, just one day of peace and quiet and silence. No classes, no work, no bars, no alcohol, no talks, no demands, no… No him. I mean that I need a day when he doesn’t pop into my head every two seconds and distracts me from life. A day away from life, where I can disappear for a time, be it into some oblivious sleep, some faraway country or just some dream world I concocted when I was a child.

I first learned what the word “oblivion” meant during my first week at the Lycee back in the 90’s. My English teacher had the words “oblivion” and its antonym (it could have been “consciousness” but I really can’t remember anymore) stuck up on one of his pin boards that were hanging on the wall. It attracted my attention, and when I finally had enough courage to ask him what it meant, I decided that it had to be used in my first book. I think I may have told my teacher that, and I hope that somewhere, somehow, he will see this and remember too, although he unfortunately isn’t here with us anymore. In any case, oblivion is one of my favourite words and also the word that will always be the best explanation of what we want to fall into during those times when we fall down, down, down.

 What is oblivion to you? To me it is just somewhere where none of all this that we have to live with and deal with every day exists, and where we don’t have to remember or listen to anything or anyone, and when we come back from it, well, we won’t even remember that it existed anyway. Kind of like the characters in an episode of Lost. You don’t remember the island or anything that happened on it once you are away from it. But once you are there you are away. Maybe I just have a rosy vision of what oblivion really means, maybe it means just gone away for good, unaware of anything, in a catatonic state? I prefer my view. Oblivion is a soft, down-filled bed that I can sink into, like a fluffy white cloud on a sunny day in spring.

Merriam-Webster defines oblivion as being one of the following: “the fact or condition of forgetting or having forgotten; especially : the condition of being oblivious” or “the condition or state of being forgotten or unknown”. I still prefer my definition, it’s just more… Poetic maybe? In any case, this week I just want a day of what I see as oblivion, and although I know that it won’t happen, it doesn’t hurt to dream.

Anyway, I just don’t want to get out of bed. I don’t want to have to go on the tram and be squished up against some pervy man again like yesterday. I don’t want to have to have another attack of the low blood sugars in the middle of class, just because I couldn’t face breakfast again before I left the house. I don’t want to have to deal with all of the idiots who are still in my class because they haven’t dropped out yet, the ones who think they are just too cool. I don’t want one of my professors to yet again ask me what I think about such and such writer, just because they know I am the only one who will dare to say something at least meaningful, or at least thoughtful. Or maybe I just think my responses are meaningful, and they only ask me because I can be bothered to answer. I’m probably already taking myself too seriously, and I haven’t even left my bed yet. I suppose oblivion is not for today, yet again.

The phone is back on the hook again, with at least 5 messages from him. I can’t bear to be woken up by the sound of it ringing and ringing, all night long, with both of them telling me that I should be with them, that they miss me, singing me songs and telling me that I should be out on the town with them, getting drunk, laughing, hugging, kissing, talking to the late hours of the night about everything and nothing. We are not going to save the world, and the world is not going to save us, but we can still talk about the impending doom and the sunrises over the horizon, contemplating what life would be and what life could be and listening to our favourite voices push us on through the night towards a goal that still hasn’t been created in our minds.

I love these boys. I suppose I should really say men, because we are all adults now, but I can’t bring myself to. We are all still so naïve but bolshy at the same time, we know it all but haven’t built those walls of protection around ourselves to save ourselves from the pain that is obviously going to come hurtling down on us at some point. The other night we were all sitting around my make-shift coffee table, drinking Desperados out of cans, listening to Tom Waits on vinyl, smoking Gauloises Blondes and talking about Israel and the anti-Israel politics in France. Sometimes I feel like a few of us pretend to be right wing, but are really left-wing, and I live my life on my own political spectrum terms, which go from the far left to left of center, sometimes hopping over the border to dip my toes and always running back again to my safe haven. We are all so smart and full of ideas, but they always only end up being coffee table ideas, as no one really has the energy to really go for it. It’s come to a point though where I need to move along, make my own way. While I was sitting there mainly listening to them all talk I just realized that I needed more. Instead of talking I need to see, feel, hear, be there.  I can’t stay here like this, dreaming about being born in another century, or at least another year, pretending that everything is allright, that one day I will miraculously wake up somewhere else, somewhere better, in a different life, in a different place.  Back to that oblivion, maybe it’s time to make the oblivion I want a reality.

I listened to the 5 voicemails, all drunken laughter, songs, mainly Jacques Brel and Leonard Cohen, “we love you” and “wish you were here”. I know you wish I were there, but I just can’t do this anymore. I can’t continue to be in love with someone who is in love with someone else, it’s just not possible anymore. If I stick around long enough he will marry me, that’s what he has always said, but I know that I need to live a life for myself before I can accept that and even agree to that. Only because I know that I am the comfort zone, and the others are all the chase, the idea of something different. I don’t want to be someone’s comfort zone, I want to be someone’s muse, I want to inspire someone and to be inspired at the same time.

Hiding away in my apartment and just concentrating on my thesis, my classes, my books, my writing and my depression is my only way of letting go. Leaving the protection of my house is always a chore, that nervous bubble that grows in my stomach, then the building of those protective layers to stave away the pokes and the stabs that are surely going to come my way in the outside world. Eyes to the ground and book in hand I make my way to each destination as fast as possible, hide away in my tiny classes at university, sit in the library for hours taking notes and doing research, teaching my students in the different locations, shopping and then home, to the pure comfort of my bed. I love to have people over, and to cook for them, but I am really struggling with being sociable and happy in public right now. If I go out he will be there, we will drink and talk and kiss, and then I will go home and watch him walk away to the new girlfriend’s house, knowing full well that she is waiting for him there, and I am going home alone. So what if I have his mind and his sociable hours? She has his love and she has him in her bed at night. I am just not pretty enough for him, or just not young enough, or just not something enough, I don’t know. In any case, this is my way of letting go of him. It’s time to branch out, it’s also time to leave the protective group of all my male friends and find someone who will love me for who I want to be. Or something in that vein. In the meantime I need to stave off that feeling of worthlessness, and hide from wanting oblivion too much. Every day I battle these feelings and every day I feel like I fail a little bit more.

Once I finish this thesis it will all be over, unless I want to continue and study for a PhD, and I know now that it’s too early for that. So what next? Run away? Start a new life somewhere else? This world is so large and there are so many places I have to see, but I just don’t know how. Can I leave the comforts of today and go? Can I just pick up and see where the wind drops me? What about my family and friends and cat and belongings? Will I feel the same any place I go or will I feel like a different person? All of these questions keep going around and around in my head, and I can’t keep my brain quiet any longer. I just want to get out of all of this. I need to remove myself from the feeling that if I throw myself in front of a tram on the B line that it will be a quick end. Or take a lot of pills and just fall asleep. Or just never wake up one morning and it will all be over. No more pain or feelings or sadness or confusion or hurt or shyness. No more keeping my mouth shut to avoid confrontation, no more wondering what life would have been like if certain things hadn’t happened. No more missing a person who will never ever come back. And no more hating a person who I can’t fully hate, even if I have every right to. There are so many days that I just want it to end. Too early, too late, never the right time. I just want it to end.

But I know I could never do that, only because I know what the pain is to lose someone in that way and I don’t have the heart to put anyone else through that. No one deserves that, however bad it may be, it could be worse, right? I’m sure there is an answer for me, and I am determined to find it.

Oblivion can wait another day.

Ramblings: Aurora Vivienne's Sixth Month

This month's photo album is HERE.

What a month! Full of changes for all of us and a lot of growth for Aurora. Whether it be due to the new environment or just a natural growth spurt we will never know, but this little monkey came very far in just a few short weeks! Aurora turned 5 months on the same day that the movers took our belongings from our apartment in Flushing, and to be honest it feels like a decade ago. So many things have happened since then, and I really hope that I remember them all. I should start jotting down phrases here and there throughout the month, just so that I don’t forget, because I really feel like the weeks are running away from me!

Aurora had her first plane ride at 5 months, a direct flight from NYC to Sacramento, and was such a good flyer. She barely made a sound, slept a lot of the time and didn’t even seem to suffer from achy ears during take-off and landing. She also didn’t seem too affected by the change in location or climate, a lot less than Luna was anyway, but I’m not sure if that’s because she is so small or just if she is a lot more easygoing and adaptable. We are all pretty adaptable beings anyway, so I suppose that she gets that from her parents and grandparents!

Aurora has always been very long, and also pretty much within the higher percentiles in weight, but she seems to have really chunked up this past month. Huge, gorgeous chunky thighs and big, kissable cheeks, those little rolls that you never want to see disappear but eventually do. We won’t be going to her 6 month well-check until next week (moving to another state means new insurance plans and new doctors all over again, but I have to say, California makes everything a lot easier than New York did), so I won’t know her measurements until then, but from my own calculations and scales here she’s about 20lbs. This means that she’s only a couple of pounds lighter than her sister now! My arms are definitely getting a work-out between the two of them! By weighing Aurora I also ended up weigh myself and realised that I had lost 10lbs in 3 weeks without even doing anything. I suppose the excess pregnancy weight is finally coming off, and just being in California is helping me be more active and healthy. I’m really thankful for this, for while I was never really fat to begin with, it was actually getting me down. I didn’t want to be in any photos or videos and didn’t even feel like any of my clothes looked good anymore. So all that to say that I’m feeling a lot happier about myself now. Ten more to go and we can have another baby! (I’m kidding, not just yet).

I think I said last month that Aurora had been rolling from back to tummy for a while, but still refused to roll from tummy to back. Well she showed me a few times that she is more than capable of doing it, but that she’s not too interested in it. Instead she is practicing her push ups and worm wiggle, and all of a sudden wants to be standing, even though she can’t actually stand. I suppose she wants to be able to do what her sister is doing… Saying that reminds me that her and Luna have been interacting a lot more these past few weeks, and actually even playing together slightly. By that I mean that Luna will shake a toy above her for a few minutes, grab her and cuddle her and yell NO!! if Aurora dares come near any of her toys. But Aurora is beginning to understand how to do the sneaky worm-roll movement and will manage to whisk away a little toy when her sister is too occupied by asking for “dootie” (boob) or demanding PEPPA snort snort. And while both Cesar and I get huge, beautiful smiles from her, her main focus is usually on her sister, on what her sister is doing and on how to get her sister’s attention. They will be close friends in no time, as long as Aurora doesn’t take her sister’s toys away too often!

It always surprises me when I see my now 6 month old wearing clothes that Luna wore when she was 12 and 18 months old. I’m sure there will be less growth spurts now and a focus on different developmental activities, like crawling which will happen sooner rather than later, sitting, and talking. Aurora can now sit unassisted for up to a minute but isn’t ready to get up by herself just yet. And she has definitely found her voice; she actually loves to “shout” dadadadadadada and mamamamama! She also loves to “squawk” really loudly, I actually have compared the sound to that a crow makes. It’s really cute and gets louder and louder with excitement! She’s getting used to being in the car on a regular basis nowadays – at first she cried a lot, but now she seems to settle down a little faster and often falls asleep which is great for nap times. We haven’t been able to get back into a good nap routine yet, and every time I manage to get Aurora to sleep Luna wakes her up, so I really must work on that. I suppose crib training is going to have to happen and I’m really not looking forward to it. Or we just stick it out until Aurora is 1 and then move both kids to their own bed, together. I feel like that is what is going to end up happening anyway. I don’t have the heart to do any kind of sleep training. I mean it demands consistency and too many tears! And I know I repeat myself but there is something so special about sleeping next to your child(ren), waking up to their smiles and cuddles (and kicks and slaps to the face). Maybe the next one will go straight to the crib from birth?!

We haven’t started on solids yet, but I suppose we will get started on that in the next week or so, avocado, fruit, vegetables, one by one, a mix of purees and Baby Led Weaning, hopefully it will incite Luna to eat more again too. What I’ve learnt is that you can try to instill healthy eating habits as much as possible, but sometimes your child will only ingest Goldfish and scrambled egg all day, and that’s OK. But again, I’m reluctant to start on solids, just because exclusively breastfeeding is so easy and convenient and clean and just really EASY. Not that I’m being lazy or anything here :D. And those teeth are all on their way too, not out yet, but lurking there just under the surface, waiting for the right moment. I do dislike the whole teething process (who does?!), but I hope it happens all in one go like it did for Luna. Made life a lot easier for everyone!

And so there we are… 6 months ago I was holding this little newborn baby in my arms, high on oxytocin and love, and now we are across the country and that little newborn baby is nearly the same size as her bigger sister. Time does fly and I have to tell myself time and time again that these moments are so short, so sweet and I wish I could just bottle them up forever, just so that I can go back to them and live them again and again.

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