Read those books, then ignore them

I've noted two parenting obsessions for our times: sleep and "solids." I don't know why we have to refer to baby's first non-milk meal as "solids" but alas, we do. I also don't know what previous generations obsessed about; my parents weren't helpful, as they basically just did whatever felt right (damn hippies).

Sleep: Why are we obsessed with sleep? Because Americans are working more hours, and women are being forced by economic circumstance (and to some extent personal desire) to work outside the home. So babies' sleep patterns wreck havoc on adults' well being.

But babies sleep how they sleep.

So read Weissbluth and Pantless or whoever. Take the ideas that they likely got from your granny--that you should pay attention to your child's need to sleep, watch for his/her patterns, and that sleep begets sleep. Then take their solutions with as large a grain of salt applies. And do what you have to to survive.

Have you ever met someone who couldn't fall asleep on their own? Who took their mom to college so that they could go to sleep? Your kid will eventually figure out the falling and staying asleep all night deal. They will. It's about neurology, not culture. People in countries that have never heard of sleep training sleep just as well as Americans.

Never, ever take advice from someone proposing to have the all-knowing (or biblical) answer to "infant management." They are insane.

Okay, "solids." Again, what's the obsession? Yes, some children do have allergies, and if you have allergies, your kids might. So be careful.

For those of us without a history of allergies, why in the world would I feed my child something I would only eat if starving? As in that rice cereal they could repackage as wallpaper paste? Why would I limit their experience of food and the world's food culture?

I say--and there's research to back me up--give them what you eat (except honey and habaneros and sushi, perhaps). Flavorful? Sure! Vegetably? Excellent! Sweet? Hells yeah (just try formula or breastmilk). Apparently, the more flavors you offer, the better the future relationship to food and eating.

Anyhoo, I think as an IF mom, I tend to get my panties in a bunch about "experts" and "advice." Just like when I was in treatment, I'm looking for THE formula, the right answer. But there's so much hogwash out there. Though my instincts were often off on my IF journey, they seem to have kicked in again.

So trust yourself.

White Metal Tiger

As a Buddhist lama trained in astrology in Tibet told me last night, this is a good year for families and little boys. But a very bad year for the government, he noted with a regretful smile.

It's the year of love, devotion, family matters. As Peter Murphy sings, "May your garden be sweet and the rain wash the pain..."

Gratitude

A year ago, we found out I was pregnant.

Yesterday, we found out Bruiser had reached the 50th percentile in height and weight. No more 3rd percentile dinkbutt, as the baby nurses in the hospital lovingly called him.

Grateful. I'm just so grateful.

It never really ends, does it?

I've said many times that I would be happy with one kid. I'm an only child, and though I know lots of folks with siblings feel sorry for us, I had a happy childhood and have rarely felt lonely in my life. There are also financial advantages, I feel: We're not the highest earners, and I'm committed to helping pay for college. The entire bill, if necessary. I don't want my kid saddled with debt and having to take a career path just for the money.

But my husband has a vision of a big family. Way, way bigger than anything I'd be able to handle (because, let's be honest here, even the most dedicated men still leave a lot of the household and child rearing tasks to their women).

There is no way in hell I'm going through more treatment. No way. When I hear about folks who successfully conceived through IF treatment going back for another round, I'm filled with a mix of bafflement (why the hell would you put yourself through that again?) and awe (what amazing dedication, hope, love, etc to go through that again!).

And beyond the emotions, we can only afford IUI. Just barely. We only got treatment the first time around with a lot of extra work, extra jobs, extra frugality. IVF is totally out of the picture, unless we decided to sell all our possessions, including our house.

Another strike against IUI: I don't want twins, I have a good chance of ending up with twins, and I am afraid my body couldn't take it. Just look what it did to poor little Bruiser: it nearly starved him to death. What would it do to two poor tykes? I shiver at the thought of hurting any more babies with my womb of doom.

So what's left? The lovely option of adoption, one my guy is increasingly open to. And the Hail Mary baby. My man's family is convinced this is in our future, thanks to an urban legend of an acquaintance. Yes, you guessed it: Several rounds of IVF before they had their daughter and then, boom, 18 months later, she's pregnant the old-fashioned way and due in a few weeks.

This possibility is maddening. Like the first stage of IF, you are bedeviled by what-ifs: What if I have another ectopic? What if this happens when I'm still overweight or still breastfeeding or still not ready? What if this happens when we can least afford it? What if it never happens, and I feel bereft? What are my actual stats in this gamble? The studies I've seen point to around 30% and under for women with successful IVFs but what about IUIs? I got pregnant both rounds, so what should I expect?

Clearly, the unexpected. Great.