And Baby Makes SIX

And Baby Makes SIX…
by Julie Lynne Beebe

It’s 4am and I hear my two-month-old stirring in the Pack-n-Play beside me… Did I miss a feeding? I swear I put her down at 10 o’clock! She’s never slept this long. The aching fullness in my bosom tells me it’s true – Baby Alicia has gone a record-breaking 6 hours! She isn’t crying, but I’m certainly ready to feed her, so I pick her up, prop pillows against the headboard, climb back into bed and cuddle her to my chest. The rocking chair across the bedroom was great for middle-of-the-night feedings in the early days, but after nine weeks of minimal sleep, it seems too far away. Alicia nurses patiently until the warm sting of letdown spreads through my breast letting me know the milk is flowing. Ali backs off choking. Sorry, sweetie! Just as I begin to feel myself dozing off again, she’s done. I raise her up to my shoulder for a burp.

Before I became a mother, I never gave so much thought to, nor spent so much time on BURPS. I long to place Ali back in her little bed, but I learned weeks ago – This is not a baby who can skip a post-feeding burp. Not unless I want to change her sheets and clothes, that is. Now I’m wishing I’d gone to bed when Ali did. I always give new mothers the common and worthy advice, “Sleep when baby sleeps,” yet I don’t follow it myself. There’s always laundry to be done, a few days of mail to go through, the checkbook hasn’t been balanced, and I haven’t checked email for days! So, as I’ve done many nights before, I used my “free time” to play catch-up, and missed out on a great stretch of sleep.

After the burp comes, Ali is ready for the day. She backs off my shoulder to grin at me. “You’re adorable, Ali, but mommy is sooo tired!” Six hours of snoozing is a new thing for this little one, and apparently she feels it’s enough. Already my daughter and I disagree!

After walking around the house, dancing to silent music in the dark family room, and even resorting to get her to sleep next to me in my bed, I succumb to Ali’s wakefulness and decide to take a shower. She’s content in her bouncy chair on the floor in front of the shower (How did I survive three babies without one of these?) and I manage to wash my hair, face, and body before she starts fussing. So far, so good! I know what I must do next, and quickly start the hair dryer. What is it about hair dryers and vacuums? This trick calms her right down, thankfully, and she’s asleep by the time I struggle through my closet full of clothes that still don’t quite fit. With baby #1, I was into my jeans two weeks later. Now, nearly 9 weeks after #4, I wonder if I’ll ever fit into them again. I fall back on my recently all-too-regular ensemble of leggings and a loose-fitting T-shirt. One last glance into the mirror reminds me I really do need to get back to the gym, but I know it won’t happen today. I’m as ready as I’ll ever be for the rest of the day ahead.

By the time I straighten up the bathroom, start the first of many loads of laundry for the day, fold the clothes left in a heap on the couch the night before, and get out to the kitchen for something to eat, it is 7 o’clock in the morning. I remember back to a time when days began at 7am.

Tyler and Lauren are coming down for breakfast. They are already bickering. I hear terms I don’t understand, and decide it must have something to with Pokemon. I’m so sick of Pokemon. The next hour is a rush of spilled milk, fights over who gets to read the back of the cereal box, an again awake baby, last-minute lunches, and a crying toddler who has woken up on the wrong side of the bed every morning since baby sister arrived. There is a chorus of “I can’t find my shoes,” “Did you sign my permission slip?” and “Oh NO – I was supposed to get books on John Adams!” At 8 o’clock, it’s good-byes and kisses, and two out of four are off to the bus stop. A deep breath behind the closed door is interrupted by the sound of Alicia calling from the infant car seat I plopped her into in order to have two hands for making breakfast and lunches. I pick her up and stick her on my hip so I can tend to Jack, who is having a toddler meltdown after deciding he wants to go to school, too. Unhappy with my answer (“Jack, when you’re five you can go to school.”), he starts crying for his daddy. Oh honey, why did you have to take on this client in Hartford? My husband, Derek, has spent the last two weeks in Connecticut, and has been traveling nonstop since Ali and I came home from the hospital. We are all becoming less tolerant. I tell myself I can’t do this alone for another day, but I’ve said it before, and he can’t exactly retire!

I survive the hours that follow, keeping up my over-achieving pace that still doesn’t seem to be enough for little Jack… Story time at the library, lunch at McDonald’s, and the quickest trip possible in and out of Toys R Us to return Lauren’s bicycle safety pad set (she loved the new bike, but refused to wear the protective pads). All the while, I nurse Ali on demand and give her apologetic kisses as I stick her back in the car seat over and over again. At one point, I wonder if she’s going to have a flat head from living in that seat. We return home to a quick picking up of the playroom and an afternoon play date that ends in tears over Jack’s treasured Thomas the Tank Engine toy. Jack’s friend, Spencer, wants to play with Thomas, but Jack doesn’t want to share. I try to be the good hostess, and force Jack to pass the train engine over. Jack explodes with toddler frustration, throws the train at Spencer, and my heart aches and cheeks blush as I send him into time-out and say goodbye to our visitors.

On advice of a neighboring mommy, I initiate a mandatory rest period on the bed for my non-napping but overly tired tot at approximately 2:30pm. Call it rest or call it sanity-saving – I decide it’s going to happen from now on! I set the timer for 30 minutes, and thank God out loud when the timer dings and my little boy is fast asleep. I call my neighbor friend to tell her it worked! That is the only call I’ll make today, despite an ever-growing collection of saved messages awaiting returns on my voicemail.

Ali is asleep in her swing, with lullabies by Nicolette Larson playing softly on surround-sound. I ponder waking her in order to increase the odds of another good night of sleep ahead, but I decide to take advantage of having both of them asleep at the same time. I “rest” with more laundry, empty the diaper pails, and begin to straighten the never-ending kitchen clutter of Scholastic book order forms, juvenile birthday party invitations, school lunch menus, and soccer schedules hiding the Corian below.

Before I can make enough progress to earn myself some rest, Tyler and Lauren are knocking on the front door and ringing the doorbell (Yes, they can see that I’m on my way!). Oh, that doorbell… Why must it be so loud? Again I have a crying toddler and fussing baby to contend with. After a harried hour of homework, snacks, and a VeggieTales video for Jack, I pull out my 7-year-old’s loose tooth, and we’re out the door for soccer and gymnastics – And more nursing baby on the go. Next comes dinner on the run (Will my stomach survive fast food twice in one day?), followed by a quick stop at the library for books on John Adams. Then it’s home once more, where I send two up for showers and give the other two baths. Then end of the day is near, and I see a light at the end of the tunnel!

By 10pm, I have everyone to bed. “Sleep when baby sleeps,” I tell myself, but of course, I do not listen. I finish up some more laundry, tidy up the kitchen again, and put out a grocery list for the milkman. As I’m rushing around from this chore to that one, the phone rings. It’s Derek. He’s sorry for calling so late, but he’s had a 16-hour day in Hartford, and figured I’d still be up. He asks how my day was. It’s all I can do not to cry and beg him to come home, but I tell him everyone is just fine. “The kids are sleeping; I’m finishing up a bit of housework. Jack enjoyed story time and McDonald’s; Spencer came over to play… Lauren lost a tooth, Tyler started his President biography, and we made it to soccer and gym. Ali slept well last night. So, when do you think you’ll be coming home, honey?”

My eyelids are weighted, and I head upstairs to check on the kids and quietly make sure the Tooth Fairy has come as expected. As I watch my babies sleep just before midnight, I feel my first real moment of peace for the day. I head for my own room, and collapse on the bed. Before falling to sleep, I glance over toward Alicia, who is smiling in her sleep. I don’t know when I’ll wake next, or even who will wake me. I don’t know how I’ll make it through tomorrow, or the next day. I don’t even know when my husband will be home. I only really know one thing -- These are the greatest days of my life.

Publisher's Note:
Julie LYNNE Beebe and Julie RUSSELL Beebe are entirely different amazing humans that coincidentally have the same name.

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