My 3-4 Month Old's Schedule : Eat, Play, Sleep

Have I mentioned that I am a Type A planner? Ad nauseam? Got it. 

Having a schedule and knowing what is coming next is imperative to my well being.  I've also read that it is good for the little people. They are learning so much constantly - the whole world is new to them.  Knowing what to expect in terms of "Ok, now that lady will give me some food" or "Now Daddy is going to put me to bed" is comforting in a world of unknowns.  

I start tracking my babies' behaviors around 6 weeks.  I have a spreadsheet that has a space for the activity and the time next to it.  At the end of each day I track the cumulative time spent eating and sleeping.  Once I see a true pattern develop, that is when I decide its time to make it their official schedule.  

I start seeing a pattern in their habits pretty early - around 2-3 months I feel pretty confident that they are no longer in the newborn stage and can tolerate a little structure to the day.  

I go the route of trying to keep naps at home, which is extremely limiting on activities outside of the neighborhood when your babe is napping 3 times a day.  Just saying, both my boys slept soundly through the night at about 3 months so if it ain't broke, don't fix it.  

Of course, Type B chill moms (whom I admire) have their babes nap in the stroller or in the car and prioritize outings.  All I see in that scenario is germs and more people - both of which I'm not all that jazzed about.  To each her own! 

Here is what my fellas did at 3-4(ish) months. 

6:30am - Eat (breast/bottle) and then play, which includes tummy time, practicing sitting in the Boppy, and playing with toys

8:30am - Nap: This nap has become consistent, so he is in his own crib in the nursery. Tip: Sound machine always on! There is a lot of activity at this time with my husband leaving and Brooks playing so we have to drown that out.  I love this sound machine because its portable and also acts as a toy/teether.

10:15am - Eat (breast/bottle) followed by more play

12pm - Nap: This nap is usually in the bassinet in our room.  We struggle through this nap, and I don't want him disturbing Brooks who is also napping at this time in the room next to his nursery. 

2:00pm- Eat (breast/bottle) and then any errands or activities out of the house.  We keep the first two naps at home to keep them strong.  The third nap will be iffy anyway, so that can be in the carseat or stroller if we've got things that must be done.  Or if I need to see human adults in person. Usually the latter.  

4:30pm - Cat nap: If we're out, the nap is on the go.  If not, he is back in his room with the sound machine on. 

6:00pm - Eat (breast/bottle)

7:45pm - Bath: We usually try to involve the big brother in this to encourage bonding, but more often than not he is running around or watching Peppa Pig. I don't blame him, Peppa is my favorite too. 

8:15pm  - Eat (bottle) - We decided to always make this feeding a bottle.  I personally relax during my evening routine of showering and pampering (usually face masks), so I take this time to do that.  This way, my husband is always guaranteed one good feeding with the baby too. 

845/9pm - Bedtime.  

Sleeps from roughly 9pm - 6am.  [Insert melodious gospel choir and beam of sunshine]

A few things to note...

Eating: With my first son, I was still breastfeeding.  With my second son, I was already weaning by this time because I struggled with DMER.  You can read those details here.  However, overall the routine stayed the same.  When I was breastfeeding, I usually had to stay up until about 12am to pump once more.  Then I was pretty good to go until the next morning.  That also helped me to build up a supply.

Sleeping: We engaged in sleep training during this time, and we are so grateful that we did.  Don't get me wrong, it sucks.  Hard.  

We would start by giving the baby 2 minutes to cry.  If he was still wailing at that time, we went in.  We replaced the pacifier, rubbed their belly and told them we were right outside and left the room within 10 seconds.  Then the clock started again.  The next time we waited for 3 minutes and so on.  It is not for everyone, but if you can handle it, your baby likely can too. 

Playing: This is always an exciting time because baby's are developing neck strength and can soon hold their heads up! That opens up so many more doors for what they can do- you don't have to just stare at them anymore!  Here are some things that we did that were fun for the babies, but also allowed me to play with our older son or to get all my other responsibilities taken care of: jumper, floor seat on the counter (with supervision of course), Rock n Play, hang out in the crib, activity gyms/play mats with toys, or pop them in their high chair.  We got this one - it has wheels and straps so they aren't going to jostle around. (And it  converts to boosters, etc. as your child grows.)

 

The Angry Side of Breastfeeding

Breastfeeding has always been a hard subject for me. 

Let me start from the beginning – the birth of my first son, Brooks.  During pregnancy and after delivery, breastfeeding exclusively was the plan.  I was fine with deviations from that plan. In my mind, fed is best. 

I was ecstatic that Brooks took to nursing like a pro.  While nursing him in the hospital, I noticed that I would get nauseous every time that I fed Brooks.  I suspected it was the pain meds or other side effects after having an unplanned C-section, so I let it go. 

To my displeasure, the feeling continued after we settled in at home.  In addition to the nausea, I started having intense emotional reactions when breastfeeding.  Not in the soothing, basking in the sunlight rocking your precious newborn way.  Rather, I felt terrible unhappiness and irritability, but only when breastfeeding.

For the 30-45 minutes that Brooks nursed I was unpleasant to be around.  I snapped at anyone who came into the room or dared to speak to me.  It became known that if I was nursing, I was in my room alone to save everyone the pain of being around the monster that I became.  And then, once Brooks was done eating, I morphed back into my normal, albeit tired, self.

I had brought up the nausea with my OBGYN, which had been a nonissue to them.  I figured this new emotional development would be the same, so I toughened up and powered through…for months. 

Once I made it to 6 months nursing my son, which was the goal that I had set for myself, I decided to wean and introduce formula.  I was thrilled.  I had associated this insurmountable heaviness with nursing, and that feeling was almost gone. 

We successfully weaned, and I didn’t think about it again until I got pregnant with my second son when Brooks was just 9 months old.  After another relatively uneventful pregnancy, breastfeeding was the goal again.  The anticipation of sitting in that darkness for months nursing haunted me.

This time around, my second son, Vance, struggled to nurse a little, eventually figuring it out on his own within a few days.  Once again that gloom came every time I popped Vance on my chest for a meal.

I dreaded nursing.  I dreaded working through the negativity. I dreaded holding my perfect newborn and feeling anything but pure glee.  I felt a terrible guilt associated with my fleeting mental state while nursing.  Why could I not feel the way I was “supposed” to feel when I was given the gift of a healthy baby and a body physically capable of feeding him? 

One morning 3 months later when I was skimming Instagram stories, I heard someone mention D-MER.  A blogger was discussing her breastfeeding triumphs and failures, and mentioned that she knows that there are some women who feel intense negative emotions when their milk lets down.  Her message was that breastfeeding shouldn’t be something that you dread, hate, or that makes you feel any less than.

My ears perked up.  She was talking about me.  Breastfeeding had made me feel less than the perfect mother.  During each feeding, I was filled with an irritation that would later fill me with guilt. 

After some power-googling that morning, I discovered that D-MER stood for Dysphoric Milk Ejection Reflex.  It is an anomaly that affects a very small percentage of breastfeeding mothers with irregular dopamine activity.  This means that this condition is 100% hormonal.  It is neither a mental illness nor any sort of psychological issue. 

I should have talked to my doctor once these symptoms became the norm.  However, there is such stigma associated with any sort of mental manifestations that I was instantly shameful.  I had already begun to wean Vance because I felt hopeless.  I knew that having a happy momma was more important than having an exclusively breastfed child.  It devastated me though – I  (irrationally) felt like I was starting Vance out in the world with an instant disadvantage. 

I learned from my research that this stigma is a large part of why D-MER is not well known even amongst medical professionals.  Women are ashamed to speak up about unpleasant things in general, too often opting to appear polite and quiet.

In addition to stigma, every sign in the hospital, OBGYN, and pediatrician’s offices clearly delineate the benefits of breastfeeding for mother and child – decreased risk of certain cancers for mother and decreased risk of allergies and future infections for baby, and passing along antibodies made specifically for your child.  What kind of selfish person wouldn’t want to give all that to their child when they are physically able?

I felt an overwhelming guilt.  I was so lucky to be able to produce milk efficiently and to have a child who was a good eater.  With all that being the case, in my mind I should nurse regardless of the mental toll it takes on me.  I should have been strong enough to overcome my side effects in favor of feeding my children. 

In reality, I should do what is best for my family as a whole.  I am not an island alone whose needs are disregarded now that there are more mouths to feed.  I now realize that my well-being contributes to the wellness of the family.  And that is something that is not on signs in the hospital. 

I hope that this admission of D-MER and all the nasty symptoms that come along with it encourages others to talk to their doctor’s openly.  Bring this, or any other condition that makes your well being take a backseat, to your doctor’s attention.  Once more people come forward; there will be a stronger justification for research into this condition. 

And finally, to the mom struggling through D-MER:

You are doing your best – trying to breastfeed your child and give him the milk that your body perfectly made for him. But if you are feeling depressed, angry, anxious, or generally unhappy ONLY when you’re nursing him, don’t overwhelm yourself by ignoring those warning signs.

Speak to a doctor, and develop a plan for your family.  If that means medicine, good!  If that means weaning, good!  Prioritize yourself so that you are capable of giving that beautiful child all he needs.

This is your journey, and it is beautiful no matter what. I know you’re trying your best, and so does that sweet baby staring up at you.

Stay At Home Mom Myths

When I found out that my first was on the way, I was happily employed doing what I loved in a good environment.  I had grown up with a stay at home mom as had my husband, and we both loved the special time that we had with our moms as kids.  We decided that since my husband's job showed more potential for future gain, if one of us was to stay home it would be me. 

I knew that my overly emotional self wasn't going to be willing to leave a 6 week old baby to go back to working long days, so I opted to stay home.  And honestly, that was the greatest decision I have made.  

No doubt - I face eye rolls when I say that I stay home with my kids, especially as a young mom. I am also frequently asked, "Do you still like staying at home?" , now that I've been in the game for 2 years. I had never been asked that question when I had any other job, nor do I hear it posed to others EVER.  Most of the time, people are thinking that the following myths are reality when posing this question.  Spoiler Alert - they're wrong. 

We're lazy

You're right -  I pretty much let the 2 year old run the show until I get out of bed around noon to eat cookies. [Insert face palm.} In reality I am CEO, teacher, coach, photographer, nurse and programs manager at ALL TIMES.  For real, they don't stop. 

We don't deserve a break 

Everyone deserves a break.  This goes back to the "lazy" myth.  For some reason, if there is a couch or bed near your place of work or you can wear leggings then people assume you are straight chilling all day.  I don't sit, unless it is to feed children.  Physically that is obviously exhausting, but it is more the emotional toll that makes us deserving of a break.  

We are constantly on - worrying, teaching, thinking ahead, and putting ourselves last.  Sometimes momma needs a beer and a second to think about something other than Paw Patrol and purees.  

We've given up on careers 

I am proud of my education and work history. I have evolved from job to job and this is no different.  If a future employer cannot see the value of managing a household and prioritizing my little people, then that isn't the workplace for me.  

That being said, I am taking it upon myself to stay up to date with today's workplace in an effort to be in the loop when the time comes for me to go back to the 9-5 grind, which I plan to do once these little monsters can take care of themselves.

Your partner makes bank

SAHM are not all wearing Gucci and Chanel while the maid does the housework. In reality, we make daily sacrifices to lead this lifestyle.  We tone down what we buy, focus on bargains, and as always put ourselves last.  I don't remember the last time I bought something for myself that wasn't on sale.  Bargain hunting is my middle name so I make the best of that and make spreadsheets (keeping me in the workplace loop) and strategize spending.  Accountant is another hat that looks real good on me.

Your home is always clean 

So, just no.  While the working mom's child is at day care or in the capable hands of grandparents, ours are running wild in our home.  Every meal is at home.  The mess is constantly growing larger, and the window to clean it grows smaller.  When babies are small, they nap a lot.  As they grow and their capacity to destroy grows, their nap time shrinks and it is a cruel cruel circle. 

No "Mom Guilt" 

There is a reason why it isn't called "working mom only guilt". We all feel it.  Anytime that we aren't doing something to make our children's lives better, easier, happier, smoother seems selfish.  And that includes when we're watching Instagram stories for five minutes during nap time - I should be baking a vegan bundt cake from scratch damnit!

You support traditional gender roles

I don't support it, but I do get it.  My husband is just better at building the toys, and I am better at cleaning.  It drives me nuts that that is the case, but a few misconstructed toys (one plastic golf caddy still rolls backward) has taught me to just suck it up.  However, I am teaching my boys to be well rounded.  They bake with me, they "help" with the laundry, and they will eventually help their dad build stuff.  They will in no way grow up thinking that they have to be a certain way based on their gender.  Hells to the naw. 

Staying at home is not fun 

Here's the real secret - it is SO much fun.  Today alone I was a ninja, a French chef, and the first mate of a pirate ship.  Sure, corporate life is rewarding too, but the smile on a little boy's face when momma is acting a fool is priceless. 

So there you have it.  We aren't rich, unmotivated women in high heels and aprons.  We've simply shifted focus temporarily.  And yes, I still like being a stay at home mom. It is the most challenging and rewarding job I could have.

The Waiting Game

After finding out that your body is now the host of a little alien, emotions run rampant.  Half because of the hormones, the other half because of the dread.  Of course you are ecstatic to meet your little bundle, but for first time mothers that happiness is often met by an equally powerful anxiety.

Pregnancy is one big waiting game.  You're waiting for the first sonogram, to find out the gender, and ultimately to meet the little human that consumes your every thought.  If there is one piece of advice that I could give to the (what seems like perpetually) pregnant, it would be this - Be patient.

I was (over) eager.  I was ready for the baby bag and the teeny onesies right when I found out that my firstborn was on the way.  I didn't realize that those first few months were the last time I would really feel like me for a long time.

*Sidenote - No matter how many well renowned so and so's say it, pregnancy is not 9 months.  If you go full term, it is at least 10.  If you breastfeed, your body still isn't your own.  So buckle up, you're in for a year or so.

When you're in the final months,  someone recommending that you be more patient and savor every moment makes you want to throw that new baby Bjorn at their face.  But, they're right.  Those are the last dates you'll have with your partner, the last movie you will watch uninterrupted, the last breakfast you will have without spit up in your hair.

I see now that pregnancy is as much preparing physically as it is mentally.  Once that baby bursts on to the scene, patience is the name of the game.  Be patient when it's 3am and you want to sleep but unfortunately your husband can't breastfeed.  Be patient when that little one just won't straighten his arm to go in that adorable onesie.  Be patient when you just want to be alone but that one obscure friend from 10 years ago just has to meet the newborn.

Realizing this has helped me be more in the moment.  And if you just can't seem to be patient when you can't see your feet and you pee at least 3 times a night, remember you're almost there momma.

This was my first lesson in motherhood, and I hope you learn it faster than I.

A Birth Story: Brooks

Introducing the man of the hour - Brooks Grant Hohman born May 29, 2016 at 8:40 pm.

It seemed like the birth of Brooks was over just as soon as it started for me.  (I realize this is a luxury when so many go through hours of labor.)

B was due on May 24, but he wasn't budging.  I like to joke that the womb had free wifi.  He was still sitting up high and I wasn't dilated an inch.   With no progress made, we went ahead and scheduled an induction for Sunday, May 29.  Yes, another week of waiting and being huge.

The doctors warned me that first time inductions could take awhile.  Being the planner that I am, I had my personals packed well in advance of scheduling the induction. Having heard that I might be hanging out in the hospital for days (eek!) before labor really got going, I decided to pack another bag of activities to keep my mind off the sure to be painful road ahead.  We had decks of cards, every Harry Potter movie, and of course Catan to keep our anxiety at bay and focus only on how many sheep I can get for this damn surplus of brick.

Induction day was finally here! The beginning of the end and only a little while longer until I see the one who had been kicking me for months.  I was given the royal treatment with courteous nurses (even though I came in right at a shift change) showing me the lay of the land and giving me the playbook for the day.  They lassoed my belly with monitors and told me that if anything changes with me or B that I would hear a strange beeping noise.

They inserted the induction meds around 4:30pm, just 30 short minutes after checking in.  Within 30 more minutes, that strange beeping they had mentioned started.  My nurse calmly walked in and checked the monitors.  B's heart rate had dropped, but that isn't too odd if it only happens once.

Ten minutes later the strange beep was back.  Two nurses came in this time to check on us, and they decided that it would be best to call the doc just to make her aware that Brooks wasn't reacting to the induction perfectly.

Ten more minutes pass and the beep continues.  Four nurses run in and determine that this induction will not go off as planned.  They remove the medicines and tell me to sit tight and await the doctor for next steps.

Thankfully, my doc wasn't far away at the time and was there within minutes suggesting a course of action.  Apparently, this had been the most gentle induction possible and since B wasn't reacting well to it, odds were high that he would not handle the stress of a natural delivery well either.  Since his heart rate had dropped 3 times within an hour or so, a C-section was going to be the safest way to get him out quickly and without distressing him.

In my mind all I could think was, thank God I don't have to push him out and that I shouldn't have skipped over the C-section part of the baby books.  My mom had a C-section with me, but that was 25 years ago so I imagined those details were a bit out of date.

Once I signed the papers to consent to the surgery, my delivery room turned into the place to be.  Those four nurses and more came back and dispersed - one on monitors, one trying to shave me (thankfully I came prepared), one briefing my husband, and one asking me medical questions.  This was when it sunk in that I wouldn't be able to unload my surplus of bricks (just kidding!) , and that I was about to have major surgery - my first.

Nico and I were able to gather a few minutes to talk.  We agreed that once in the operating room, we would maintain eye contact.  No looking over that curtain for anything.

It only seemed like minutes, but about an hour later, me and my big belly were rolled out of the room down to surgery.  I was shaking.  The delivery room was an ice box.  The doctors, nurses, and anesthesiologist were all doing their thing, and I just looked at the metal table - so unwelcoming and sterile.

I hopped on the table (hop is a relative term) and a nice bald man covered me in the warmest blankets.  It instantly helped, but the shaking wasn't stopping.  I was terrified that the epidural wouldn't go well and I would be paralyzed.

The anesthesiologist warned me that I would feel warmth down my legs when the meds were on the way.  I instantly felt it on my right, but nothing on my left.  I told them and imagined that I would be able to feel everything during the surgery.  Thankfully, they gave me some more of the good stuff, and I went numb.

Soon after, Nico was coming in the delivery room in his scrubs and the curtain was up over my belly.  He was so excited and at the same time I could see that he was nervous.  Hospitals freak him out anyway, but he was really handling it all so well.

I began to feel a little bit of movement, and just a few minutes into the surgery I was warned that the pressure was about to hit.  I felt a little pressure, and then the doctor said, "Take a look, Dad!"

Nico and I looked at each other and we knew that we both were thinking "Don't look over that curtain, dummy", but he couldn't resist.  He got the first glimpse of B at that moment.  Brooks wasn't crying immediately and those few quiet seconds seemed to last for hours.  He was taken over to a small table under a heating light and I looked over for my first peak at perfection.  Still no crying.

Through my panic, I looked over and saw two arms and legs flailing about and I asked if he had 10 fingers and 10 toes.  I saw Nico staring at B in awe and then I heard the sweetest sound - B's newborn cry.  The nurses bundled up my little man, and brought him over to me for a quick snuggle.  I couldn't stop saying how beautiful he was.

It was magic.  As cliche as it sounds, it really is the most pure love you could ever know.  We had created this tiny little person.  He was all ours - to nurture, to love, and to guide.

I was one of those mothers who instantly felt that bond with their child.  I never knew a love so deep before I had my son.  Realizing how multidimensional love is in that moment was life changing.

Of course, little man was then taken to get cleaned up and cozy while I was sewed back up.  This part took forever.  I knew his dad was with him, but I didn't realize until later that all my family and my best friend had gotten to see him through the nursery glass.

I realized while the docs were doing their thing, that this was just another day to them.  They nonchalantly discussed their weekends.  It was calming.

As I was rolled out of surgery, I passed the elevator and out popped my dad and father in law right then.  I told them quickly that I was fine and that Brooks was perfect and resting in the nursery.

Back in my room after only 4 hours at the hospital, I had my son.  It also felt like I had a hangover.  The room was spinning.  I was even a bit nervous to hold Brooks because of the spinning.  But the nurses handed him over, and I got to hold my son.  He was tiny and shockingly tan.  (We found out later that he was actually jaundice.) His little button nose and sweet blue eyes were all I could see.

We rested in the hospital for the next 2 days with family and close friends.  I guarded him fiercely from strangers and their germs and walked up and down the hallway to exercise and catch a glimpse of him napping in the nursery. There is no pride like that felt when you point out your son to other parents.  "Oh, he's the perfect one over there!"

Throughout pregnancy, Nico was always talking about being a dad, but he really transformed into a dad over those few days.  Since I was recovering from surgery, he changed the first diapers, he rolled the baby in from the nursery, he took on the responsibilities before I was able to.

He truly is the most phenomenal dad.  Selfless, gentle, and playful.

This is our story.  It fundamentally changed everything about me. It was scary and beautiful.

Brooks, I can't even begin to explain the love that I have for you.  I hope that I can be the person you see when you look up at me. It is an honor to be your momma. I love you, baby boy, with everything I've got.