So funny coz he's just turning 5-months old this week and already, he's making a lot of noises. Here he keeps himself (and me) entertained...he's not crying, just wanting to get some attention. Daddy (background) is asleep. I've just breastfed him, and he wants to be carried.
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Tuesday, April 28, 2009
Bonding Moments
We went to Baguio last Holy Week...Dad, Mom, Gie, Jam and I, plus, of course, the little prince. We didn't get to go out much, as it rained a lot. Jam is also a certified bed-tv-sleepaholic (to my eternal misery! My exact opposite. This topic (our differences) is worthy of another blog) so to cure my house fever, I played/toyed/bonded with Jedai. He's sooo much fun to play with, plus he has a tendency to become "pikon" - he'd scream and make "gigil", all the more fun to play with. He doesn't need to a lot of toys, actually, he's pretty much interested in his hands, my hands, clothes and his daddy's chest hair. We brought along a small stuffed toy (a blue cow) but he'd ignore moo in favor of some cuddle-time with me.Jam and I also enjoy dressing him up and snapping pics. We got a lot of fun here:
No malice intended. Jam was taking pictures and Jedai must have gotten pissed off because he was sleeping...
Kakaloka! I plan to enter this photo sa baby contest.Thursday, April 23, 2009
Baby Stats and Other Stuff
Jerard Danniel is now 3 months and 4 weeks old. He'll be 4 months old in 3 days! Yippee!
As of last check-up, he weighed 8 kilos and measured 69 cms. His birthweight and length was 3.3 kilos and 52 cms., respectively. In almost 4 months, he doubled his birthweight! Hurrahhhh!
The average weight and length/height of a 4-month old baby boy is 6.36 kilos and about 65 cms.
Jedai looks like an 8-month old.
That's not to say that it's okay for him to be big. Dr. Arlene recommended cutting down on his vitamins Nutrilin since baby doesn't seem to have a problematic appetite naman...hihi. And since Jedai is now purely breastmilk-fed (is this the correct term since I bottle-feed him my expressed breastmilk???), there's nothing wrong with his diet anyway. I am, now more than ever, inspired to breastfeed until I have no more milk in me (dramatic) or until he is two years old, whichever comes first. Unless of course, Jam would have his way and we'll have Baby #2 before Jedai turns 2.
In Jedai's almost 4 months, he's never been sick. Never had colic, never had colds, diarrhea or coughs. He doesn't cry much, only when very very hungry. He'd fuss when needs to be burped or wants to be held. He's also now very active. He can stiffen his legs so he could stand when held and hold his head steady. He is very curious, "talks" a lot. He and his daddy enjoy "harot" times when Daddy Jam would tickle him and make funny faces. When we talk to him, he "talks" back, often emphatically, raising his voice and making all these funny facial expressions. When I sing to him, he seem to be humming a long and would laugh a lot when I make him dance.
His Lolo is predicting that he'd be walking and talking before he turns 1 year old. But am not forcing Jedai to grow so fast. One can only savor these precious moments, when your baby is still truly yours (of course, I have to share him with my husband and his grandparents and other relatives...) and you can still kiss and hug your baby without them squirming away.
As of last check-up, he weighed 8 kilos and measured 69 cms. His birthweight and length was 3.3 kilos and 52 cms., respectively. In almost 4 months, he doubled his birthweight! Hurrahhhh!
The average weight and length/height of a 4-month old baby boy is 6.36 kilos and about 65 cms.
Jedai looks like an 8-month old.
That's not to say that it's okay for him to be big. Dr. Arlene recommended cutting down on his vitamins Nutrilin since baby doesn't seem to have a problematic appetite naman...hihi. And since Jedai is now purely breastmilk-fed (is this the correct term since I bottle-feed him my expressed breastmilk???), there's nothing wrong with his diet anyway. I am, now more than ever, inspired to breastfeed until I have no more milk in me (dramatic) or until he is two years old, whichever comes first. Unless of course, Jam would have his way and we'll have Baby #2 before Jedai turns 2.
In Jedai's almost 4 months, he's never been sick. Never had colic, never had colds, diarrhea or coughs. He doesn't cry much, only when very very hungry. He'd fuss when needs to be burped or wants to be held. He's also now very active. He can stiffen his legs so he could stand when held and hold his head steady. He is very curious, "talks" a lot. He and his daddy enjoy "harot" times when Daddy Jam would tickle him and make funny faces. When we talk to him, he "talks" back, often emphatically, raising his voice and making all these funny facial expressions. When I sing to him, he seem to be humming a long and would laugh a lot when I make him dance.
His Lolo is predicting that he'd be walking and talking before he turns 1 year old. But am not forcing Jedai to grow so fast. One can only savor these precious moments, when your baby is still truly yours (of course, I have to share him with my husband and his grandparents and other relatives...) and you can still kiss and hug your baby without them squirming away.
Monday, March 9, 2009
Back to Work
It's been a long while since my last post. I've been happily spending time with my handful two-month old boy, seeing to his needs and preparing for my return to the office.
March 2. My first day at work and first day as an EFLC-er. New office. Yes! Clean restrooms where I can happily pump my son's milk supply. Not so many people around so I can still sterilize my pump parts. Wait! No electrical outlet inside restroom. Restroom available to the public unless I opt to use second floor CR (where there are rumored "spirits"...). No refrigerator to store milk.
Breastfeeding really takes dedication. No refs? No problem. I have to go out the EFLC building, walk to the 5-storey building, go up 4 floors and to CTA's office. Easily a 5-7 minute walk. Back again to EFLC building. Whew. Who says I need to go on a diet? There goes my breakfast. Need to pump at least 4 times a day to establish good milk supply. That's breakfast, mid-AM snacks, lunch and merienda. Now I need to buy a new pair of shoes. The old ones just gave out.
My usually soft-as-a-baby's hands are now rough and dry from sterilizing, washing bottles and pump parts. Not to mention I once spilled a liter of boiling water on the EFLC carpet -- infront of our boss.
Sneaking out to pump feels like I'm sneaking out to meet a secret boyfriend...or stealing precious resources from the company (yes, time!)...but it shouldn't be. Pumping takes only 15-20 minutes (if you're really slow). And besides, I compensate by staying until 6:30 even if I can go home at 4:30.
By the end of the day, I know I am a full-pledged mom. I am dying and hurring to go home. I walk with a purpose, carrying my precious yield of the day. I can smell my son's scent already as I wait for an FX or a jeepney.
When I finally reach home, my efforts are all rewarded. He may still be sleeping but when he wakes, he'd give me a smile that says he missed mommy. He'd feed from my breast and gurgles and coos and all the hassles of the day are erased and replaced by that warm tingling feeling of being loved unconditionally. His eyes are locked on mine and he'd fall asleep still nursing, or resting his cheeks on my bossom, or lying bottoms up on my chest. His arms around mine, grasping my shirt or my hair and not wanting to let go.
I am a mom. This is me now. I can't remember being anything else before he came along.
March 2. My first day at work and first day as an EFLC-er. New office. Yes! Clean restrooms where I can happily pump my son's milk supply. Not so many people around so I can still sterilize my pump parts. Wait! No electrical outlet inside restroom. Restroom available to the public unless I opt to use second floor CR (where there are rumored "spirits"...). No refrigerator to store milk.
Breastfeeding really takes dedication. No refs? No problem. I have to go out the EFLC building, walk to the 5-storey building, go up 4 floors and to CTA's office. Easily a 5-7 minute walk. Back again to EFLC building. Whew. Who says I need to go on a diet? There goes my breakfast. Need to pump at least 4 times a day to establish good milk supply. That's breakfast, mid-AM snacks, lunch and merienda. Now I need to buy a new pair of shoes. The old ones just gave out.
My usually soft-as-a-baby's hands are now rough and dry from sterilizing, washing bottles and pump parts. Not to mention I once spilled a liter of boiling water on the EFLC carpet -- infront of our boss.
Sneaking out to pump feels like I'm sneaking out to meet a secret boyfriend...or stealing precious resources from the company (yes, time!)...but it shouldn't be. Pumping takes only 15-20 minutes (if you're really slow). And besides, I compensate by staying until 6:30 even if I can go home at 4:30.
By the end of the day, I know I am a full-pledged mom. I am dying and hurring to go home. I walk with a purpose, carrying my precious yield of the day. I can smell my son's scent already as I wait for an FX or a jeepney.
When I finally reach home, my efforts are all rewarded. He may still be sleeping but when he wakes, he'd give me a smile that says he missed mommy. He'd feed from my breast and gurgles and coos and all the hassles of the day are erased and replaced by that warm tingling feeling of being loved unconditionally. His eyes are locked on mine and he'd fall asleep still nursing, or resting his cheeks on my bossom, or lying bottoms up on my chest. His arms around mine, grasping my shirt or my hair and not wanting to let go.
I am a mom. This is me now. I can't remember being anything else before he came along.
Wednesday, February 4, 2009
Raising Jerard
Often, Jam and I would fight over “raising” Jerard. When Jerard cries, I would usually trip over myself to rush to his side. I’d offer breasts, diapers or my loving embrace. Jam, however, would scold me for spoiling the baby. He’s for letting Jerard cry for at least 5 minutes, waiting until the little cries become wails of anger and frustration.
Not more than once I shared Jerard’s frustration. Although I agree with Jam (as most parents also do) that children should not be spoiled, as a mother, my instinct is to pick my baby up and comfort him. I do not think that my doting on him, helpless as he is at this young age (1 month), would create a brat of him two-three-five or ten years from now. I have pored over books and Internet articles and have found no advocate for letting babies cry their eyes out. Neither could I see any sense in doing so. For me, babies cry because they are needy, not because they want to spoil their parents' day. There are no hidden agendas. Besides, their needs are simple and basic. Food, sleep, a little attention and some tender lovin' care.
The sooner I meet my baby's needs, the sooner he calms down. The sooner he stops crying. The sooner he is pacified. And the sooner I can get on to what I was doing. Selfish?
Besides, I only have until the first of March before I report back to work. While I have been sitting here thinking I'm gonna get "house fever" if I stay home one more day, I cannot even begin to think of being separated from Jerard for a day. One hour to go to the drugstore is hard, four hours to attend a birthday dinner was a major anxiety issue for me...But ten-twelve hours? I think I need therapy. So I know I should make the most of the remaining days until I resume being mommy dynamo.
Not more than once I shared Jerard’s frustration. Although I agree with Jam (as most parents also do) that children should not be spoiled, as a mother, my instinct is to pick my baby up and comfort him. I do not think that my doting on him, helpless as he is at this young age (1 month), would create a brat of him two-three-five or ten years from now. I have pored over books and Internet articles and have found no advocate for letting babies cry their eyes out. Neither could I see any sense in doing so. For me, babies cry because they are needy, not because they want to spoil their parents' day. There are no hidden agendas. Besides, their needs are simple and basic. Food, sleep, a little attention and some tender lovin' care.
The sooner I meet my baby's needs, the sooner he calms down. The sooner he stops crying. The sooner he is pacified. And the sooner I can get on to what I was doing. Selfish?
Besides, I only have until the first of March before I report back to work. While I have been sitting here thinking I'm gonna get "house fever" if I stay home one more day, I cannot even begin to think of being separated from Jerard for a day. One hour to go to the drugstore is hard, four hours to attend a birthday dinner was a major anxiety issue for me...But ten-twelve hours? I think I need therapy. So I know I should make the most of the remaining days until I resume being mommy dynamo.
Monday, January 26, 2009
First Month
My darling baby is one month old today. Looking at him as he sleeps, I ask myself, is there anything in this world more precious, more perfect, than this child?
He has given me many sleepless nights, even before he was born. Pregnancy and all its little complications such as constipation, lack of appetite, morning sickness, aches and dietary sacrifices seem so trivial now compared to the joy of holding him in my arms. With him gazing up at me with adoring eyes after I have breastfed and burped him, there is no joy more complete than being a mom. Even as I have to stir awake at three in the morning, to meet the demands of a perpetually hungry little tyke, I say a prayer or two that I have overflowing breastmilk to offer.
My obsessions have changed from playing computer games to researching about breastfeeding, how to store breast milk, umbilical cords, giving baby a bath (which, as of today, I still have not accomplished), diapers and all the little things every self-respecting mothers should know.
My days are broken down into hourly segments. I breastfeed for ten to fifteen minutes, put him to sleep in about five more minutes, and off I go to do whatever nature demands my body to do – bathe, eat, use the toilet, sleep. Then I see to his things – wash and sterilize bottles, refill his container of cotton balls, check his stock of diapers. When I am lucky, I could rush across the hall to my parents’ bedroom and check the internet. Otherwise, I am equally confined to our bedroom and read and re-read the files I have downloaded from the internet on infant care.
Jam and I were able to get Jam’s sister to be Yaya. Ensei El ‘s presence means Jam and I could somehow sneak a few hours to go to mass or attend a friend’s birthday party. It means that during the day, when daddy Jam has to go to work, I am not left so totally alone and helpless. I can afford, when really needed, to go to the bank and pay bills, go to the drugstore to buy medicines, answer phone calls without lugging baby around. Provided, though, that I have left bottles and bottles of mommy’s precious milk in the refrigerator. Sometimes, I feel like a cow – only I have two breasts and I pump at any time of the day.
It is sweet that Jam has taken an active role as a father. During the first few days, without a yaya and virtually no help from anywhere (my mom plays nurse to my cancer-stricken dad while the maids scurry about to run errands), Jam was cook and labandera and errand boy. He is a pro on giving baby a bath and changing diapers. He does not panic when Jerard cries his head off for no obvious reason (well, except hunger and wet diapers). Even with Ensei El around, he burps and sends baby to sleep at night. On weekends when Ensei El takes the days off, Jam is more mommy than I am. My only role is to provide sustenance.
I panic whenever I hear him cry. During the first few nights at home, when we put him in his crib, I lay in semi-consciousness, awake at the slightest hint of movement, at the smallest noise in his crib. I have heard about Sudden Infant Death (SID) and was afraid of it stealing my precious little gem. When before, I could not sleep with the lights on, I am now not comfortable with the darkness. I had to be able to see my little one’s face when I turn to my side, be able to reach him without moving an inch.
During his BCG inoculation, I was sent out of the pedia’s room because they know I could not bear to see my baby being struck by a needle. Were all mommies a sissy? Or was it just I?
Jerard Danniel now has reached his 31st day. His first month. I have counted the days slowly, but they still rushed past me. Pretty soon, he’ll be crawling, uttering his first words, running around, asking for allowance, breaking young women’s hearts.
He has given me many sleepless nights, even before he was born. Pregnancy and all its little complications such as constipation, lack of appetite, morning sickness, aches and dietary sacrifices seem so trivial now compared to the joy of holding him in my arms. With him gazing up at me with adoring eyes after I have breastfed and burped him, there is no joy more complete than being a mom. Even as I have to stir awake at three in the morning, to meet the demands of a perpetually hungry little tyke, I say a prayer or two that I have overflowing breastmilk to offer.
My obsessions have changed from playing computer games to researching about breastfeeding, how to store breast milk, umbilical cords, giving baby a bath (which, as of today, I still have not accomplished), diapers and all the little things every self-respecting mothers should know.
My days are broken down into hourly segments. I breastfeed for ten to fifteen minutes, put him to sleep in about five more minutes, and off I go to do whatever nature demands my body to do – bathe, eat, use the toilet, sleep. Then I see to his things – wash and sterilize bottles, refill his container of cotton balls, check his stock of diapers. When I am lucky, I could rush across the hall to my parents’ bedroom and check the internet. Otherwise, I am equally confined to our bedroom and read and re-read the files I have downloaded from the internet on infant care.
Jam and I were able to get Jam’s sister to be Yaya. Ensei El ‘s presence means Jam and I could somehow sneak a few hours to go to mass or attend a friend’s birthday party. It means that during the day, when daddy Jam has to go to work, I am not left so totally alone and helpless. I can afford, when really needed, to go to the bank and pay bills, go to the drugstore to buy medicines, answer phone calls without lugging baby around. Provided, though, that I have left bottles and bottles of mommy’s precious milk in the refrigerator. Sometimes, I feel like a cow – only I have two breasts and I pump at any time of the day.
It is sweet that Jam has taken an active role as a father. During the first few days, without a yaya and virtually no help from anywhere (my mom plays nurse to my cancer-stricken dad while the maids scurry about to run errands), Jam was cook and labandera and errand boy. He is a pro on giving baby a bath and changing diapers. He does not panic when Jerard cries his head off for no obvious reason (well, except hunger and wet diapers). Even with Ensei El around, he burps and sends baby to sleep at night. On weekends when Ensei El takes the days off, Jam is more mommy than I am. My only role is to provide sustenance.
I panic whenever I hear him cry. During the first few nights at home, when we put him in his crib, I lay in semi-consciousness, awake at the slightest hint of movement, at the smallest noise in his crib. I have heard about Sudden Infant Death (SID) and was afraid of it stealing my precious little gem. When before, I could not sleep with the lights on, I am now not comfortable with the darkness. I had to be able to see my little one’s face when I turn to my side, be able to reach him without moving an inch.
During his BCG inoculation, I was sent out of the pedia’s room because they know I could not bear to see my baby being struck by a needle. Were all mommies a sissy? Or was it just I?
Jerard Danniel now has reached his 31st day. His first month. I have counted the days slowly, but they still rushed past me. Pretty soon, he’ll be crawling, uttering his first words, running around, asking for allowance, breaking young women’s hearts.
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