Z is beyond ready to be a toddler. He is only 9 months old but he knows exactly what he wants and when he wants it. He will cry if I take something away from him that he shouldn’t have, he will fight sleep and only nap/go down for the night if and when he wants to and he is ridiculously independent. At his baby classes he will crawl off into the middle or leave me to sit with the teacher. He will only really come back to me if he is hungry, tired or sad and other than those times he is off doing his own thing.
It is currently 10 past 10 and he is still up playing, squealing and crawling around. He keeps coming back to me to check-in, for a quick feed or a tickle but then he’s off and back to play again. If I try to cuddle him or pat him to sleep he crys and/or squirms away to get back to playing – he is currently sat on the floor waving one of my flip flops around.
This in-between stage is a strange one. They’re still babies in the sense that they can’t walk or talk and they still need you for everything (dressing, washing, feeding, nappy changes, help getting to sleep, comforting, carrying, taking them places ect)., but at the same time they’re suddenly these tiny, little people who know exactly what they want and they aren’t going to give up until they get it.
Whilst I know it will be more of a challenge when he can say ‘no’ and run away from me, I don’t really think that too much will change when he becomes a ‘real’ toddler. Of course, I know that he will change as he is already changing all the time. I think what I mean is, he is already such a confident, independent, determined little boy that I don’t think the baby to toddler stage will be much of a difference in comparison to the difference between newborn and crawler.
But I guess I will just have to wait and see. Watching him grow and change really is amazing. Even if I will always miss who he was in the previous stage of life.
My birth experience was nothing like I expected it be and now, almost nine months later I’m still not really sure how I feel about it. It was two days before my due date, late at night when I went to the hospital. I hadn’t felt any movements all day but was waiting until later as it wasn’t uncommon for me to only feel him move at night. My boyfriend (his dad) thought I was worrying over nothing, but if you’ve been pregnant, you know that feeling of thinking something is wrong with baby and it’s scary. We went to the hospital with nothing but the pregnancy notes folder, thinking we would would only be there for a few hours as that is what happened on previous visits. They attached me to the baby heart monitor thing and then they offered me an induction which quickly turned into being given a leaflet that I didn’t have time to read, and being told that I had to have an induction and being taken into another room. I asked my boyfriend if it was too late to not have a baby so I must have been feeling pretty anxious at this point. They checked me and I think they said I was only 1cm dilated. Then a doctor came in, looked at the monitor, said his up and down heart rate was concerning and that for the baby’s safety I wouldn’t be having an induction, I was going to have a c-section. I was given a brief explanation that I couldn’t process or remember and a form to sign. I was told I wasn’t aloud to eat or drink anything. I remember being really thirsty. I was okay with not having to push the baby out though. That terrified me more than the thought of being cut open for some reason. They broke my waters and it felt weird. I was then taken into the operating room and my boyfriend was told to go and sit at the back in the scrubs they’d had him change into. I was sat on the table with a random man infront of me trying to get me to put my head on his shoulder. I think this was supposed to comfort me. It didn’t. It didn’t help with the pain of the needle going into my back either. I was panicking and telling them I didn’t want to do this. But obviously I had to. This wasn’t a time to be rational though. After laying me down and finally bringing my boyfriend to my side after some more panic (I still don’t understand why they had him stay away before that), I was given an ice cube a couple of times for my super dry mouth and offered to be put to sleep because I was nervous. I declined that. Why would I want to be put to sleep? People can die from that. I think the offer probably made me more anxious. The actual operation was completey fine by the way. It was more the constant questions I couldn’t answer like exactly how cold an ice cube on my numbing body felt, the random man trying to sooth me with a half hug and all of the people in that one room all focused on me…
I didn’t know that my baby was out straight away. He didn’t cry. I must have realised he was out though as I asked why he wasn’t crying. I remember asking if he was okay. I remember asking if he’d died. I remember no one answering my questions. Someone said that they were helping him to breathe. It took a few minutes for him to be able to breathe on his own. He was okay. I still hadn’t seen him. I can’t remember exactly, but I think my boyfriend was over by the doctors with him. I know that he got to hold him first. I didn’t get to hold him until after they had cleaned me up and lifted me off the table onto a bed. I got to hold him as they wheeled me into the recovery room. I was still completely numb and I was so itchy. I don’t think I fully registered that I was holding my baby at the time. One thing was for sure though – he was beautiful.