she's just sayin'

The whimpering coming from the little white monitor on my nightstand sets off a slow awakening, like the sunrise, only less blissful. Slowly, persistently, the sound escalates to a regular outburst, a staccato cry. The monitor’s lights no longer flash calm green, they are now alarm red. Alright, alright, I’m coming.

I fumble for my glasses and switch off the monitor, kill the red light, kill the noise. Quick glance at the clock. Red numbers read 2 a.m. Why so much red? Through the fog of sleep I do a quick mental calculation. 10 p.m. to 2 a.m. = four hours. Good enough, I suppose. This is the 78th straight day I’ve gotten less than eight consecutive hours of sleep. Five would have been nice, but no time to ponder this now; the cries are getting louder.

Bare feet hit a creaky wood floor and I’m on the move, shuffling towards my robe to keep the middle of the night chill off of my bare shoulders. Once in the nursery I flip on the light’s dimmest setting, enough to see what I’m doing but still low enough so as not to give baby any ideas. This is just a quick refill, not an intro to playtime. I pull his warm body from beneath the blankets and onto my shoulder. Despite his hunger he’s nearly as drowsy as me. He buries his head into the soft spot where my shoulder meets my collarbone while flapping an arm about to let me know it’s time to feed him, and I better do it quick.

We settle into the rocker. How many times have we sunk down into this chair in the past 78 days? Up, down, back, forth. We settle, he latches, and I close my eyes while he eats. Sometimes I fall into a light sleep. Sometimes I think about the day we just had, marvel at his latest development. Sometimes I think about what we’ll do tomorrow, which is now today. And sometimes I gaze down at him and wonder what he’ll look like, be like in five years, ten years, more. I wonder if some part of him, down deep in his subconscious, will remember how we were once nearly inseparable. How I was there for his every need, all day and all night. Especially all night. How he snuggled against me, belly to belly, while I stroked his fine baby hair and watched him get every bit of nourishment he needed from me.

When he’s done we do the housekeeping tasks—burping, diaper change—that every middle of the night feeding requires. Sometimes, right before I return his tiny body to his crib, as he begins the dozy slide back to sleep, a slow smile spreads across his mouth. Content, secure, nourished. Thankful?

I’m so glad I got up at 2 a.m.

Anyone who knows even a little bit about babies knows that they require a shit ton of equipment. That’s right, a shit ton. Shitton? For something so small, it’s really quite amazing all the accoutrements that feel Absolutely Necessary To Support Life. While there are plenty of items that we all know we need, I’d like to focus on the key items that are Absolutely Necessary To Maintain Sanity. Yes, baby should be comfortable, happy, secure, blah blah blah. But let’s face it, what’s really important here is that Mommy and Daddy are functioning and not gunning it out the driveway for the nearest bridge. And so, without further adieu, I present Sarah’s Five Baby Items Absolutely Necessary to Maintain Sanity:

1. Pacifier
When I was still a naïve holier-than-thou non-parent, I was firmly against giving my child a pacifier. I didn’t want to develop a habit that would be hard to break one, two, or three plus embarrassing years down the line. Well…that all went out the window just days into Drew’s life when his screams were driving Mike and I straight to Looneyville. In one quick movement we went from ear splitting wails to blissful quiet (save for the lovable ‘smack, smack’ sounds coming from baby’s mouth, a la Maggie Simpson)

I Like: Philips Avent

2. White Noise Machine
Download to your phone, buy a stuffed lamb, install a CD player, whatever you choose, do invest in a device that will fill baby’s ears with the reassuring sounds of vacuum cleaners, hair dryers, orca mating calls (WTF?) or running water. White noise functions like a pacifier and helps put baby to sleep, because really, the main goal in the early weeks of life is to get your baby to sleep. There’ll be plenty of time to hang out with that cutie later, when he’s not a 24/7 crying risk

I Like: Cloud B Sleep Sheep

3. Wipes Warmer
This is another one of those items that I sneered at before child. I foolishly thought it was yet another scheme concocted by the baby industry to get money out of us, the way the wedding industry makes you believe the most important day of your life will be forever ruined if you don’t tie grosgrain ribbon around every place card and napkin ring. What I discovered, though, was the difference between a diaper change that sounds like you’re killing your child and one that sounds like, well, like silence. (Do you sense a theme here? The Ultimate Goal is QUIET.)

I Like: Prince Lionheart Ultimate Wipes Warmer

4. ‘Stations’
‘Stations’ is a catchall term I use to refer to any product you can buy that functions as a place to put the baby down. It could be a swing, bouncy chair or pack and play (in my case, we have all three). You’re going to want more than one station because babies grow bored quickly and boredom leads to tears, which leads to…you guessed it…noise.

In our case, I found that Drew went through phases in which he liked one station more than others, or not at all. Each week was different though, so I was grateful to have several stations to suit whatever inclination he was feeling at a particular phase. In my experience I have found the following stations useful for the following scenarios:

Swing: Getting baby to stop screaming when nothing else works and you can’t hold him any longer for fear you’ll shake him to shut him up quiet him down

I Like: Fisher Price Zen Collection Swing

Bouncy Chair: Keeping baby upright after feedings to prevent acid reflux; providing a place for baby to nap snugly that does not involve being in your arms; playtime

I Like: Boppy Cradle in Comfort Bouncer

Pack & Play: Portable crib if you don’t want to keep walking baby upstairs to put him down for a nap. I keep mine in the living room so I can keep Drew nearby during the day. My Pack & Play also has a handy changing pad, which truth be told serves more as a dumping ground for sundry baby detritus (burp cloths, pacifiers, rattles, hats), but in any case is extra useful.

I Like: Graco Pack n Play Playard

5. Burp Cloths
I am flat out amazed by the amount of spit up that flies out of my kid’s mouth on any given day. As a result, I don’t believe that any quantity of burp cloths could be considered too many. If you care at all about your couches, your shoulders, or any surface in your home, buy these in bulk. Not only do they get soiled quickly, but they also have a tendency to get lost around the house the way socks get lost in the dryer. Better to have six burp cloths within reach than a hungry baby screaming his head off in your ear while you run frantically around the house searching for one.

I Like: Anything. Really, any burp cloths will do.

So there you have it, five tickets to post-baby sanity. Sure, each costs money, but I’d say when it comes to babies, anything that helps create a calm, peaceful, QUIET home is priceless.

Parents, what do YOU find indispensable?

Well, I did it. I survived the mommy party. In my head I had pictured four to five moms sitting in a circle, each holding a baby, sipping coffee and chatting quietly about their little ones’ feeding and eating schedules and telling clichéd jokes about how drastically life had changed post-baby. My head…so naïve! The reality was at least six moms (maybe eight? I lost count), maybe 15 kids (could have been more, I REALLY lost count here) and a whole lot of noise and commotion.

I think my neighbor got quite a kick out of watching me react to the scene. My eyes grew wide, and I’m pretty sure my mouth hung slack while I clutched my one quiet baby ever closer to my chest. You see, each mom there had a litter of kids. Two ladies are pregnant with their fourth child, one mom had five kids, and the others, well, I don’t know how many they had but it definitely wasn’t one and I’m pretty sure it wasn’t just two. Apart from the 18 or so kids that were running around, there was talk that several more kids were at school. Whoever services the water supply around here must have mistaken ‘Fertility’ for ‘Flouride’ when pulling the water additives down off the shelf.

Anyway, I was grateful to feel genuinely warmly welcomed by these ladies. And it was nice not to fret too much over whether or not I reeked of breast milk (I probably did) or had a stain on my shirt (I definitely did). If anyone would understand, this crew would. There was talk of pediatricians and discussion around which area hospital was best for kids. And here I thought it was whichever one the ambulance dropped you at when you dialed 911! There was a tale of a woman who used to hold Friday afternoon play dates in which she served cocktails (to the MOMS, of course!). I don’t know why she wasn’t at this party and I was hoping someone would share her name, phone and email address, but no such luck.

At times the gathering reminded me of a corporate cocktail party, except a little more awkward—for me at least—without the benefit of a friendly alcoholic drink crutch. At such functions, people generally float throughout the room mingling in small groups. I hate to mingle and generally prefer to stay rooted in one corner of the room, letting the natural ebb and flow of the occasion bring new faces and new conversations my way. When I’m inevitably left standing alone with nothing to do but stare into my cup, I put on my best ‘I-am-deep-in-thought-and-totally-comfortable-standing-here-alone’ face. When that inevitably fails, I pick a conversation to join, and do my best ‘don’t-mind-me-I’m-just-casually-sauntering-into- your-A-B-conversation’ impression. Again, I was grateful that the ladies, many of whom are related and thus invariably spend gads of time together, made me feel welcome and let me in on their conversations without looking me up and down disapprovingly.

Yes, I’m a bit reclusive; I’m pretty happy hanging out alone. And yes, gatherings such as this one fill me with some degree of anxiety and render me ‘I-feel-sorry-for-her-pathetic’, but you know what? I’m going to keep going, baby in tow. Because one day–sooner than I’d like to admit–Drew is going to have to go to school. And birthday parties. And then school dances. And then frat parties. And then corporate functions. And then weddings. And I don’t want him standing in the corner near the punch bowl/keg/coffee pot, pretending to be comfortable standing alone. I want him standing near the front door, or in the middle of the room, making everyone who enters the party feel welcome.