LOGO : Site title

I recently realized I hadn’t seen my baby books in a while, and had no idea where they were.

My “baby books,” as I call them, are not the beautiful baby journals that most moms keep, even though when I was pregnant, I had received not one, but several, lovely baby journals, albums and a scrapbook. I opened them and marvelled at the crisp pages, with tabbed sections and places to inscribe the all-important birth stats for height and weight as well as awwww-inducing things like “my first food and my reaction to it.” I imagined the adorable photo of Junior that I could put in there, showing his face full of cereal, with a huge goofy grin.

Those baby journals seemed great for recording things that I know are easily forgotten, and would be wonderful to whip out 20 years down the road, when Junior’s suitor wanted to know what he looked like as a baby wearing an “Ipoo’d” onesie, although I’m sure that reference will require explanation in the future. Two and a half years later, though, they are all still blank slates. I have never been able to bring myself to fill in any of the sections or put any photos inside. I think part of it is that I felt somewhat intimidated to write in them. I remember looking in them a few months after Junior arrived, and realizing that I would have to leave some sections blank, since I didn’t remember the exact day he first smiled, or what his reaction was the first time we called him by name, and other important “firsts.” The first time he rolled over, or held his head up, these things I don’t have recorded for posterity.

"To Do Today -- Have Baby!" (photo courtesy of Loraine)

What I do have are two ratty spiral-bound notebooks, which I cherish more than I originally that thought I would, since I went through the house twice until I found them.  I felt quite panicked about losing them, perhaps because with my memories so foggy from those months I couldn’t rely on those alone. The books are as much about me as they are about Junior, in a way. The first notebook started out as a “to do” list keeper when I went on my maternity leave two weeks before my due date, and as it turned out, almost a full month before I actually gave birth.

Each day had its own page, with chores and errands to accomplish before baby came: finishing up thank you notes from the baby shower, buying a yoga ball to help with labour, making “labour-ade” ice cubes, and endless cleaning chores. My favorite entry from June 25th, after “clean bathroom,” “buy milk” and “water flowers,” is “Have a baby!!” I added that to my to-do list after my water broke that morning. There are no listings for June 26 through 29, since we were in the hospital and I had left my precious notebook behind, thinking we’d only be there a few hours.

Beginning June 29, the notebook took on a new function: rather than recording chores, it became a medication log for me. I had to keep track of two kinds of pain relievers, antibiotics, and the all-important stool softener, plus vitamins and supplements to help healing and promote my milk to come in. That notebook was a necessity for both Stephen and I, since we were so tired we couldn’t rely on memory alone. After less than a week, we added 4X daily Domperidone pills (prescribed for increasing milk production) and a 2X daily herbal “lactation tea.” Since I was ingesting some type of supplement 10 – 20 times each day, the notebook was critical in making sure I didn’t get 6 of one type of pill and none of another, which was especially important when dealing with the stool softener.

"6:00 poop & pee" (photo courtesy of Loraine)

Our midwife suggested that we record all outputs from the baby, so they went in the notebook too, along with the time and any notes of record that took our fancy: “poop: 7:05 pm, large.  Poop, 7:20pm, VERY LARGE!!!!!  PEANUTS???!!!!!!”  Since we were having so much trouble breastfeeding, I also recorded the time and duration of each feeding, which breast, and how painful it was: “v. painful”….. “STILL V. PAINFUL!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

When it became clear that the breastfeeding was as good as it was going to get, and we would have to supplement with formula, I stopped recording the length of time on each breast, and simply added up the amounts of formula he took each day. I obsessively added up each 24 hour total to reassure myself that he wasn’t still starving, a worry that stayed with me despite all the  evidence to the contrary until he was almost a year old.

I started jotting down his sleep routines, desperately looking for a pattern of increasing time. Even 2 nights that were worse than before seemed to be weeks in my sleep-deprived mind, and having the notebook gave me tangible evidence  to the contrary, and a source of hope. When months 5 through 7 brought teething and an increasingly upset nighttime baby, I drew sad faces on those nights when he woke more than once. He started sleeping through the night at 8 months, literally the night after I finally broke down, helpless from lack of sleep, and threatened out loud, to “Ferberize” him. After that, he slept through on his own, though if it was from me calling his bluff or because his teeth were in, I don’t know. I did get a lot of pleasure drawing happy faces on those pages when he slept through!

The notebook also carried any chores or appointments for day, and any happenings of note.  First foods warranted an entry, but less for posterity than for food allergy alerts. I kept the daily log in my notebook pretty much until I went back to work.

I feel a bit sorry that I don’t have a coffee-table memoir of my son’s first year, complete with photos and stickers and cleverly captioned memories. I hope it’s not something that I will come to regret, or that he later asks for and that I won’t be able to give him. My log of that first year is more about me, and a way of helping me to survive, and indeed proof I did survive, than a glossy idealized public record. In fact, now that I think about it, maybe I would recommend that moms keep two books: one baby journal for public consumption, and one just for you. The private one would have a place for a photo and date of “My first cracked nipple!”  and “Funny things I said to my husband while in labour that started with “!@#$%^ you, you stupid !@#$%^&*” with a space for you to fill in the blank.

There might also be sad or scary entries, like “the day I called a friend bawling because I was so tired, but almost couldn’t remember what I was so upset about when she called back the next day to check in on me and see that the baby and I were still alive,” or even, “the first time my child got hurt and I cried longer than he did and I finally felt better but realized this would not be the last time I was afraid for his safety.” These are things we don’t hear about, except from other moms, and usually after a glass or two of wine.

I’ll be interested in reading Canada's Toddler Care Book, whose author, Dr. Jeremy Friedman, was interviewed on this site. He and his wife apparently kept journals on their children, which make up a section of the book, and he admits that some of the entries might be a bit more positive-sounding than felt like in the moment. It’s wonderful the perspective that time gives!