He is doing better. Usually he manages one longer stretch per night of 2-3 hours. He is slightly easier to calm back to sleep without picking him up, and he fights it less when I pick him up and just rock without nursing.

There was a brief teething period where he was waking up every hour again. No fun.

But typically, when I get home, he’s asleep, which is a vast improvement. With my newfound freedom, I’m able to do my Bible study/devotional with minimal apprehension about the baby monitor going off, which is awesome. I can also usually eat a snack, wash my face, brush my teeth, put on pajamas and do some light reading or TV watching and a couple chores before he wakes up.

I then go up and lay my hands on him, soothe him, and if he doesn’t settle, I pick him up and rock him and turn on the seahorse. The seahorse shuts off after about five minutes. He’s generally back asleep well before then. I set him in the crib and go sit in a chair in the corner and play on my phone or something for a few minutes to make sure he’s really asleep, then I leave and can resume what I was doing before. Or I go to sleep.

Before all this sleep drama, my husband and the baby were always awake when I got home. (Not husband’s fault, I should note. No one’s fault.) Now, baby has a more distinct bedtime and routine that also starts earlier. That’s progress.

We have kind of plateaued at the 2-3 hour stretch though. I’d love for him to sleep a five-hour stretch (official definition of Sleeping Through The Night). Not sure what we need to change to accomplish that, if anything. I’ve tried a quick diaper change around 4:00, but he still woke an hour later.

Nowadays, I put him back in his crib each time he awakens during the night. But I have to draw the line somewhere, and that somewhere is 4 a.m. At that point, it’s to the big bed with Mama, cuz Mama needs some rest…

Fingers crossed for continued progress.

As I rock in the nursery, baby in my lap, his downy head and soft, ivory cheeks reflect a bluish-white from the night-light. I fantasize about reading a fashion magazine, eating a bowl of chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream or giggling my way through DVR’d new episodes of “Glee,” “Modern Family” and “The Office” with a glass of wine.

Then his tiny hand, resting on my chest with fingers softly outstretched, twitches and I think about how my days (or nights) in this chair are numbered. I push thoughts of me-time away and glance at two large plastic storage containers of outgrown baby clothes and want to cry.

***

Cry it out. The No-Cry Sleep Solution. The Weissbluth method. Aware Parenting’s “crying-in-arms” strategy. There are so many different ways to train your baby to go to sleep.

The hardest part? Finding out there is no “right” or “best” one.

It seems that no matter how different, most operate under similar principles: self-soothing, sleeping without sucking, sleeping alone.

I’m really opposed to CIO. I can’t fully explain why, and I don’t want to demonize people who do it or paint myself as some sort of saint for not doing it. The bottom line, for sleep training or otherwise, is that if you are motivated by love, not selfishness or indifference, you are doing the right thing for your family.

Doctor’s orders: Cry it out

My husband and I took Josiah, at just shy of 7 months, to the pediatrician to get help for his reflux. It’s gotten better as he has gotten older, but I had come to think it was contributing to his night-waking. He rarely sleeps for more than a sleep cycle at a time (50 minutes).

The doctor prescribed an antacid but said the real problem was that we were putting him to bed already asleep and told us our only option was to let him cry it out. He basically said it was our one and only option and even if he cried for two-plus hours to just let him go, don’t touch him or go see him, nothing. My husband asked what if he cried so hard he made a poopy diaper, and the doc reluctantly said we could change it. Geez, what a softy.

I told him flat out, nope, not gonna do cry-it-out, and the lecture ensued. I looked at the floor, lips pursed, occasionally shaking my head as I held my sweet angel. I never want him to feel abandoned when he can’t understand what’s happening. Side note: I would totally use the doc’s advice on a 2- or 3-year-old. Just not a baby.

Anyway, the experience pretty much ruined my day. I asked my husband if we could please try a gentler method first, and if that doesn’t work, maybe implement CIO in stages. He agreed.

He also asked me to call my mom and ask what she used to do with me. Full of dread, I called my mom and we talked for a while, and thankfully her reaction to the doc’s advice mirrored mine: NO! I dreaded the call because I could see her saying, “Oh yeah, we let you cry for hours! And look, you turned out fine!” Very glad that didn’t happen.

So it’s been a couple of weeks. So far we’ve been doing Elizabeth Pantley’s “No-Cry Sleep Solution.” I think it’s helping build some good habits, like falling asleep without nursing and setting him down drowsy and shushing him back to sleep. No results yet though. And putting an awake baby to bed, even 95 percent sleepy, is really difficult, by the way.

A few nights ago I stumbled across a method that’s part of something called “Aware Parenting”. Basically, the baby cries it out while you are holding him, with the idea that 1) it’s the perceived abandonment of CIO that’s harmful, not the crying itself, and 2) crying is necessary for relieving pent-up stress from being shushed or given the breast/pacifier during the day to stop crying (i.e. crying achieves homeostasis).

The science of crying-in-arms is really intriguing to me, but I’m not sold on the emotional/psychological aspect as far as prolonged crying. I tried this out the night I read about it, and it was agony having him cry in my arms. I re-read the website the next day and tried again, and as he snuffled and as his eyelids got heavier and heavier, I really thought I was going to have success, until he launched into a fresh wave of tears. (I think teething is sabotaging any efforts right now.)

Some say American culture puts too much emphasis on sleeping through the night and crib sleeping. As far as STTN, I look at it this way: I’m an adult. I wake late at night, hungry, thirsty, hot, cold. Why should we expect more out of babies?? Waking once or twice a night, no big deal. Every hour, that’s different.

***

I’m not some kind of martyr. I know me-time is important, not indulgent. But no matter how many nights I rock only to have him awaken the moment I set him down, then I give up and take him into the guest bed with me so I can rest, I know babyhood won’t last forever.

“It won’t last forever” is the sad other side of the coin to “This too shall pass.”

Well, I’m hungry (surprised?). I’m too superstitious to disclose how long Josiah has been asleep (long enough to write this post Update: Nearly two hours had passed when he woke up), but I am going to take it as a good sign. There’s a bowl of ice cream with my name on it.

Josiah, 5 days old

Here’s a list of titles for future topics that have been rattling around in my mind. Hopefully this will motivate me to come back and write more.

Side note: This used to be a sports/media industry opinion blog. I’m afraid it’s evolving into momness, but if there’s something sporty or newsy that I’m passionate about, I might slip in a post or two. Ideally.

Coming soon:

• Doctor’s orders: Cry it out
• My love/hate relationship with the rocking chair
• Breastfeeding is totally awesome
• Products new parents never knew they needed
• Going “green”
• Teething: Kill me now
• Co-sleeping: A private shame
• Photo ops missed and ensuing regret
• Little giant: My “off the charts” baby
• Plus general journaling of his milestones and cute moments

Even while compiling this list I had to rush down the hall to the crib to shush him back to sleep. My stomach rumbles. We missed our Friday grocery run so our cupboards are scarce and we have no snacky-type things that don’t contain oats, and I do not need oats in my system right now (long story).

It’s 2:10 a.m. I’m amazed I’ve been able to sneak away to even type this much. As he starts sleeping better (fingers crossed), it should get easier.

Right?

Josiah was born nine days late. He was due Feb. 21, but didn’t arrive until March 2, and that was with a little help.

I went in to be induced at 5 p.m. that Tuesday. Jonathan and I loaded up the car and grabbed some Wendy’s for my “last supper”. I’m pretty sure I got spicy chicken anyway, just to help the process.

I had preregistered, so we got into our room pretty quickly. The nurse arrived and I donned the fabulous backless hospital gown (my first taste of modesty going out the window). She took my vitals, drew some blood, inserted an IV catheter in my left hand, put three different information bands on my wrist, strapped the fetal monitor around my waist, checked my cervix and administered the Cervadil to get the labor process going.

The plan had been for my water to be manually broken at 5 a.m., then get me started on the Pitocin and hopefully have a baby by noon. This, however, was unnecessary.

By 6:30 p.m., all we had to do was wait. I’m pretty sure all we did for the next few hours was watch TV or play on our phones. I couldn’t leave my bed for an hour after the Cervadil was inserted. This evening dragged onnnn and onnnn… What I remember most was how painful my hand was. For some reason, the catheter was pinching the thin skin on the top of my hand really bad. At least it wasn’t hooked up to anything (yet).

My family arrived around 9 or 10 and visited for a little while. I was starting to get uncomfortable, and they were tired from the long drive, so they left. Around 11, a nurse came to give me some Ambien to help me get some sleep before the early start in the morning. It didn’t make me tired though, just loopy.

Shortly afterward, maybe around 11:30, I went to the bathroom and yada yada, my water broke. Then, as I tried to get back in bed, fluid gushed ALL over the floor. I vaguely remember multiple people with mops moving furniture and making comments. (Everything is a bit foggy from this point. I blame the Ambien.) I got hooked up to the IV, and it was game on.

I had been having mild contractions, but they were so mild I didn’t really notice them until a nurse told me about them. They got stronger after my water broke, though. Over the next several hours, I think I tried to sleep, but eventually the contractions got too intense.

At some point, the contractions started to feel different. The first ones were a tightening of my stomach. The later ones felt “rounder”, like they were coming from all sides. It’s really hard to describe. Eventually, I felt the need to push, and even I knew it was way too soon for that.

A nurse asked me if I wanted something to “take the edge off”, and I said sure. She gave me a small amount of Stadol intravenously, and I felt a little tipsy pretty quickly. Apparently I thought I had had conversations with Jonathan about Skittles and marshmallows, but it was all in my head.

The sedative did nothing for easing my contractions, but it did mellow me out, which was important for the rest of the labor process. It really helped me focus on my breathing and less on other distractions.

Jonathan was a great labor coach. He could see the monitors behind me, and he could tell me when a contraction was coming up and how big it would be. I would inhale deeply, envisioning myself in an elevator of a skyscraper. As I inhaled, I would travel up to the very top floor, the contraction would hit, and I’d exhale slowly and evenly all the way back down to the first floor.

If I did that every time, labor was a breeze. But if he didn’t alert me in time, I couldn’t get my breath up and I’d spend the contraction screaming like they do in the movies. To me, contractions felt like getting the wind knocked out of you, which was awful because breathing is exactly what you should be doing and it’s doubly hard at that point. I’m not sure what the screaming accomplishes, it just happens.

I had read a lot about natural pain relief techniques and had learned some breathing exercises, but I didn’t commit much of it to memory. As terrified as I am of needles (especially a needle in your SPINE), I had pretty much figured at some point the pain would be excruciating and I’d give in and demand an epidural. But it never got to that point. I just took it one contraction at a time and made it through, feeling everything.

Finally the on-call doctor arrived and he said I could start pushing whenever I wanted to. I was THRILLED. Not pushing so far had been like holding back a sneeze. It felt so good to finally get going. This was the point where timing my breathing became critical to successful pushes.

One nurse held one shaking leg and soothingly repeated some calming phrase and Jonathan had one hand and the other leg. My legs were shaking uncontrollably, which the nurse said was normal. If I really, really, REALLY focused, I could go completely limp in between contractions and just relax. It took effort though.

I think I pushed between 15-20 times. There were several things I had to coordinate to push successfully, and it took a few contractions to get the hang of it. I had to 1) time my breathing, 2) focus on pushing down, 3) not scream, 4) and there was something else. Anyway, like four things to do at the same time made for a good push.

And let me say that the final push to get Josiah out was the most satisfying feeling I’ve ever had. I felt physically incredibly relieved and mentally accomplished for completing delivery. It’s indescribable, and I’m glad I had full feeling in my lower half. I can’t imagine having been numb from the waist down.

The details are extremely fuzzy from this point, but my main memory, from when they put him in my arms, was wow, this baby is gigantic! (8 pounds, 4 ounces, 21 inches, for the record. He felt big to me, anyway.)

Someone called out for the time, and 6:01 a.m. was the answer. Late in the labor, I had asked Jonathan to call my family, wake them up and get them here because I wanted my mom in the delivery room. They weren’t there in time, but they were our first visitors and got pictures when he was just minutes old.

A nurse tried to whisk Josiah away for a bath and stuff, but I asked if I could hold him for an hour first. She looked at me like I had two heads but I said it was really important to me that I get to bond with him immediately, and she obliged.

Despite the Stadol, the nurses congratulated me on delivering naturally. I said, well, I did get Stadol, but they emphatically said, trust us, honey, you had a natural birth!!!

I was also pretty proud of myself for not caving in and getting an epidural. It’s fine for others, but it just wasn’t something I wanted to do. (If I’d had back labor, it probably would have been a different story though!)

Well, he’s waking up. I’ll try to finish the story and probably make a few edits later.

Don’t get me wrong, I like snow as much as anybody. And I didn’t even get close to a shovel. But I hate driving in it, and I hated worrying about whether dear baby would choose to make his appearance while we were snowbound.  Thankfully, he has held out for better weather.

It’s supposed to get down to minus-4 tonight. My mantra is “It will be 60 on Monday… It will be 60 on Monday…”

My OB/GYN is out of town all next week, which stinks, but should I have to deliver a few days early, I don’t think it will be too bad. I think the doctor is only there for the very end, anyway.

Here’s some snow pics (click to zoom; it’s worth it). Hoping for a quick thaw…

Hubby hard at work

He's happy with the progress

Cars can't handle ruts like this

The view from upstairs. Notice the neighbor's partially collapsed patio cover.

The patio. Those are drifts, but still.

I’m kind of shocked my little plan has actually worked out so well. The past three weekends were spent going all over town, stocking up on baby things and running errands, and when I’d get home I’d clean or organize until I was exhausted.

I did all that in preparation for these next few weeks so I could just relax, knowing we had all the diapers and other various supplies all stockpiled. Most importantly, I could just chill on the couch or in bed and not have to worry about hurting my already strained joints or overdoing it and going into early labor. Best to be productive while I could.

With this weekend nearly over, I’d say my plan worked like a charm. It helps to have a husband who is nesting, too. It’s so refreshing to come home or wake up and have things all organized and clean.

We have an ultrasound and appointment tomorrow. My doctor wanted to get an estimate of the baby’s size. I like ultrasounds, so it should be fun. Hopefully everything checks out OK.

Not a whole lot else going on lately. I watched most of OSU-Texas but fell asleep in the second half. (Pretty sure I didn’t miss much, as the Longhorns pounded the Cowboys.) All the Remember the 10 stuff made me sad. For some reason, what always gets me is when they show the early TV reports where everyone is still in shock about the crash.

Also, this news today made me very happy: Will Ferrell to help replace Steve Carell on The Office.

Well, I’ve got to go scrounge up some food. Baby’s hungry!!

That’s how many days until my due date. I never thought I’d feel ready, but I’m getting very close.

Physically, I’m there. I’m an uncomfortable, fatigued, waddling mess. I’m tired of wearing the same jeans (or sweatpants if I’m at home) and shoes every day. I dread going to bed because my stomach is literally heavy and moving, and I know I’ll have to get up and go to the bathroom or adjust the thermostat at least every two hours anyway.

But I know the baby needs to “bake” a little while longer. I hope HE senses that… Last night he got himself posteriorally positioned (facing outward) and his little movements hurt. I could feel EVERY kick, jab, punch, roll, twitch and wiggle from his hard little elbows, knees and heels. I was supervising at work and just tried to get up and walk around once or twice an hour to get him to settle down. I think he has worn himself out by now but still hasn’t turned back over.

Emotionally and mentally, I’m doing well. I went shopping last week and got some essentials. And once we get a diaper pail and some wipes, we’ll have basically everything we need to start off with. Being prepared is pretty important to me, which is why it’s in the emotional/mental category.

I’ve been reading “What to Expect the First Year,” which is also helping me feel more prepared. The book, which was loaned to me, is copyrighted 1989, so there’s some pretty dated advice, but it’s easy to look past. Plus, the stuff about how to put on a diaper, pick up and set down a baby, burp a baby, is pretty much timeless.

I’m going to head to the library this week (not today, it’s closed for MLK Day) and pick up some material on breathing techniques for labor. I was disappointed my childbirth class spent very little time on natural pain management. Instead, my instructor spent at least half an hour of the four-hour course talking about epidurals and answering questions. Her co-instructor highly recommended them from experience, and no one raised her hand when the class was polled about who would want to try a natural birth. The instructor also said about 90 percent of Tulsa moms get epidurals. It’s just the culture here.

The whole epidural experience seems really unnatural and unpleasant to me. I’ve decided that I’m going to tough it out as long as possible, especially if I can brush up on natural pain management techniques in the upcoming weeks. But if I’m having back labor, I won’t hesitate to ask for one.

They say a baby is considered full-term at 37 weeks. So that means I could deliver pretty much any day in February. I’m going to try to get as much done errand-wise until then, then focus on maintaining a zen-like state and sleeping and relaxing as much as possible.

It hit me today at work, when I was feeling completely wiped out, what if I feel like this when I go into labor? I can’t imagine going through all that already feeling tired. So my plan is to try to get extra rest in the later weeks.

Overall, I’m excited about all of it. A few months ago, if I’m being honest, I was more scared than anything. Now it’s just eager anticipation.

My gut reaction was surprise, then bitterness, then acceptance. He did lead my favorite team to unprecedented success, but those sixth and seventh years of the contract the Texas Rangers were offering were kind of scary, seeing as how he’d be nearly 40 and making more than $20 million a year.

I never thought he would stay, and the moment I knew came in Game 1 of the World Series. He hit a double and the entire Rangers bench went crazy, jumping up and down, grinning and doing the claw.

But he didn’t return the claw gesture (as far as I could tell on TV, anyway) and just shrugged, which I felt was a slap in the face. Even the manager does the claw! I know it’s a goofy thing, but it would have been nice to see him fit in with his teammates at that moment. And the fans watching at home would have eaten it up. Since I wasn’t at the game to see the play, I could definitely be wrong about it, but I don’t think I am.

At least he’s out of the American League. That makes it easier to stomach. And of course I’m glad he didn’t go to the Yankees. But the Phillies’ rotation (Halladay, Hamels, Oswalt, Lee) is truly scary now.

I also respect that he left money on the table. Why he wanted to go back to Philly, a team that traded him away last year, is a mystery to me, but I’m sure we’ll find out soon.

I just wish he had stayed in Texas just a bit longer so C.J. Wilson and the rest of the pitching staff could coax some more nuggets of wisdom out of him.

Maybe Zack Greinke can be their new mentor…

I watched the ESPN 30 For 30 on SMU’s football cheating in the ’80s last night. It was really interesting to me especially because I grew up in the Metroplex but never knew much about the scandal. It was crazy how messed up the whole situation was — players getting paid, the governor throwing the boosters under the bus during the election because he didn’t want to lose votes from fans of other schools. It was also neat to see how Dallas was such a boomtown and attractive place in the 1970s.

One part that caught my attention was how the competition between the Dallas Morning News and Times Herald exposed the scandal faster. Because Dallas was such a strong two-newspaper town, the two media outlets were in constant competition to get the juicy stories, to uncover the facts first. Chew on that if you don’t think journalism matters.

Anyway, if you haven’t seen it yet, it’s a pretty interesting story and two hours well spent.

***

On Saturday night, the baby was extremely active. He was fidgeting up a storm and keeping me from falling asleep. So in a desperation move to calm him, I got my iPod and put on one earbud and held the other to where I thought his head might be.

I selected Christmas music by Aliqua (this awesome choral group — do yourself a huge favor and download their Christmas songs. Just beautiful.) and let him listen. He nudged the earbud, so I moved it down a bit. And this lump (his head??) followed it! I moved it again, and he followed it again! It was crazy. He would kick or nudge it first, then eventually move toward it, like he wanted to hear it better. Amazing. And now we know he’s not deaf, so that’s cool.

The best part was that it worked. The music relaxed both of us, and I was (we were?) able to fall asleep not long after I’d turned off the music.

***

Last of all, when did waffles become a way to harass professional athletes? Apparently a disgruntled hockey fan thought smuggling waffles into the Maple Leafs game then chucking them onto the ice was a good way to show his/her frustration with the team.

I kind of hope there’s no particular reason that they threw the toaster treats. I like to think they picked out the most awesomely random thing they had in their fridge, for the sheer mischief of it all. I mean, a waffle? They’re so… benign. Especially if they’re soggy.

Last time, I wrote all about the physical effects of pregnancy and what this crazy little boy is doing to me. I don’t think I mentioned we know he’s a boy.

By the way, I need this (and it’s on sale!):

As far as names, we’re keeping the finalists secret. It’s just for fun, really. We’re pretty 50/50 on the names, so I think we’ll just have to look at his face when he’s born and see which name he looks like. To me, each name clearly sounds like a first-born or youngest name. The problem, obviously, is we can’t save the “youngest” name because there’s no guarantee we’ll have another boy.

We are painting his room blue (like I described in an earlier post). It’s going to have a loosely nautical theme (meaning we aren’t going overboard with anchors, buoys, fish, etc.). Ha, I said “overboard”… Anyway, my husband picked out a Nautica border that is light and dark blue and has boats, so that’s where we got the idea from. I’d like to accent with red.

As far as furniture, most of it will be a dark, espresso color. I have a crib picked out that I love. It turns into a full-size bed that looks really elegant for the price. An important factor for me was that the converted bed have that solid, weighty, quality look, which can be hard to find on a budget. But we’re not planning on buying it for a few months, even though I really, really want it now!

My amazing co-workers pitched in for a Target gift card, and we’ve already used part of it on a play-yard with a removable bassinet, mobile and changing table. We’ll put that in the master bedroom at first (I already love having a changing table downstairs), then when he outgrows it, we’ll detach the bassinet and table and put the playpen in the living room. It’s red and tan and super cute.

We have already been blessed with a ton of onesies. I think I counted eight that say “Mom’s All-Star”, “Little Slugger”, “Champ” or some other sports variation.

The little guy has been extremely active lately. If he has to move, I prefer the rolls to kicks. It makes me a little nauseous when he rolls, but I prefer it to hard kicks in the same place over and over.

So it used to be that when I imagined baby kicks, I thought they’d be cute little taps. Well, usually they are. But sometimes it’s more like having a fish out of water flop around violently in your stomach. It’s a very strange feeling, and actually pretty annoying when I’m trying to fall asleep. Other times he just shimmies and wiggles if I sit or lie still for too long.

I read that they are most active between 27 and 32 weeks. I think it’s because they’re finally big enough that you can feel every movement, and they’re small enough to still have plenty of room to move around.

I’m already excited about reading books with him. I know you can start before they’re born, but I don’t think he’d know the difference between that and my talking to other people, so I’m just going to save my breath. I want him to have a whole library of books, though. Fun ones and ones that help him learn.

Well, I’m feeling a chill. Our thermostat is kind of wacky and resets itself to 62 every few hours. The actual temperature is probably close to 70, but I do like that nice warm air blowing around. I’m going to go crank it back up, and maybe get some chocolate ice cream, because the craving hasn’t subsided whatsoever. All I need is a good Christmas movie to watch!