Gwen's grandparents came to visit this weekend. To celebrate, we took no pictures whatsoever. Instead, here are some other random pictures to make up for the fact that I have no time to post something meaningful.

Here is Gwen smiling after doing some colouring.
We bought Gwen this adorable chair at Jysk. She loves it, because she can get into it and out of it by herself. Yay for independence!

Obligatory "back to school" picture. This is the "daycare bag" and has very little in it: a stuffed bunny and some diapers. So sometimes we make her carry it.

Playing with some hand puppets.

When you ask Gwen to "say cheese", she thinks you are saying "say cheers". So she hoists an imaginary drink and clunks it into the camera.

Looking back at Then-Gwen

September seems like a natural time to take stock and set goals and directions for oneself. Lately, I've been pondering all that's happened in the past year, and specifically, where I was one year ago. I've even been looking back through a few old posts during my trip down memory lane.

I don't think I ever actually came out and said "Holy shit, this freakin' SUCKS," but you guys? It really, really did.

Insufficient weight gain. Daily weigh-ins. Unscheduled midwife visits. Doctor appointments. Catheter test. Bladder infection? No. Insufficient weight gain. Supplementing with formula. Reflux? No. Doctor appointments. Throwing up. Allergies? No. Insufficient weight gain. Constant crying. Poor milk supply. Colic? No. Constant nursing. Insufficient weight gain. More supplementing. Another doctor appointment. Thrush? No.

This time last year is when it started to get better. This time last year is when I was finally able to explain in clear terms that I was truly not exaggerating: that Gwen was either crying, sleeping, or nursing. That she spent her every waking moment physically attached to me or else screaming in anguish. I was finally able to understand that this was not normal. That other moms were actually able to eat meals while their babies were awake. That there was something going on that needed to be fixed, for both of our sakes.

The answer was twofold: chiropractic treatments and mild antacid medication. We attended appointments with no fewer than six medical professionals before hitting on this combination - and that doesn't even count all the nurses I saw at the Health Unit while I struggled desperately to figure out the breastfeeding thing.

No, looking back over those posts, I never expressed how awful it all was. But as I read them, I remember how I felt. I remember the worry, the anxiety, the feelings of inadequacy, the frustration as the doctors all gave me conflicting advice and never seemed to listen to me anyway. The constant self-doubt and the endless discussions with Chris about what we should try next. But in a way, I don't think I even consciously said to myself, "This is awful." In a way, I didn't know it could be any different, any better.

She used to just scream and scream and scream. For hours. Whether we held her or not. Her entire body tense, her stomach hard as a rock. She was so skinny that people used to guess her age at about three months younger than she actually was, and then ask me if she was a preemie. After only a few chiropractic treatments, the screaming stopped. She suddenly turned into this amazing, happy baby, engaged with the world around her and excited to explore. After only a week on the antacid, she stopped vomiting up half her food, and started to plump up. Suddenly, we were a family, instead of caretakers of an angry demon.

I sometimes feel ripped off by all this. My babymoon was stolen by Norovirus, and the weeks and months when I should have been marvelling over my daughter's perfect little fingers and toes, and figuring out how to be her mother, were swallowed up by all those doctor's appointments and hours of screaming. I hardly ever went out with Gwen when she was little, because I was too terrified of the screaming, the vomiting, the rage and anguish that little creature could produce. I don't have any pictures of Gwen snoozing in a carseat while her dad and I have a picnic, or play softball, or basically Get On With Our Lives the way so many new parents seem to. I was reflecting on the fact that when our friends' daughter Teagan was four months old (and I was pregnant with Gwen), we babysat her one morning a week while her parents took a class together. There is no way in hell I would have left Gwen with anyone when she was four months old. It was way too much to ask, and I would have felt miserable leaving her.

I want to take 2008-Laura aside and give her the biggest hug imaginable, and tell her that she's doing all the right things and that everything really truly will be okay. That in 2009 she'll have a daughter who says "Hi Mama," and blows her kisses. And that everything is about to get so much better.

Behold the Teeth!

I was going through a bunch of photographs the other night, having finally stumbled upon the red-eye-erasing tool, and was stunned to notice the drastic change in Gwen's appearance from only a month ago. Her teeth have made a huge difference!

August 3rd - four teeth
September 6th - 10 teeth

Incidentally, in that second picture she is dancing in her booster seat, thus the head tilt. Goin' for the Axl Rose moves, I guess?

Another Fun Gwen Video

During this movie, Gwen throws a great many of her toys on the floor, which is a daily occurence. Unfortunately, the noise this produces prevents you from easily hearing the many animal sounds she is making at my request. (By the way, the sound a shark makes is the JAWS theme, and the sound a horse makes is the hoofbeats, not the whinnying.)

There's some other goofiness including a hat, a couch, and an extreme close-up. Enjoy!

Sunday Night Disjointed Post

I had so much trouble writing Gwen's newsletter this month. To her parents, grandparents, and caregiver, the developmental changes are obvious, but they are very hard to capture in words. I think this is because the changes are by degree, rather than the sweeping "learned to roll over", "learned to crawl", "learned to walk". She does all the same things that she did last month, but she does them better, more elegantly, more easily, more intelligently. Her first word was a big deal. Her fortieth? Enh. We're still excited about it, of course, but it's hard to bring that excitement to bear in a blog post.

But what kind of a mommyblogger would I be, if I didn't keep on trying?

Every day, Gwen amazes us with the new things she can do. She has taken to imitating the turn signal when we're in the car. "Tick-tick-tick-tick." When we get home, she walks over to the stereo, points at the buttons, and wiggles her hips, saying "ditz," which is her word for "dance". She colours now, with the assistance of a box of triangular crayons and some pictures from coloringpages.net (since I could not bring myself to buy a Diego, Princesses, or Cars colouring book, and those were the only kinds available). Last night before bed she was 'reading' one of her books, and passed one to me so I'd have something to read, too. She can get up on the couch by herself now. She has put together two-word sentences a couple of times: "night-night, Dada," and "Hi, baby!". I can see that genuine communication is just around the corner. She is starting to be more obedient and co-operative, and we in turn are learning how to help her be more obedient and co-operative, such as letting her stand on a chair and "help" with dinner (by stirring an empty bowl with a wooden spoon).

Tonight she actually helped me clean up her toys. For a couple of weeks now she has been very, very interested in the concept of putting small things into bigger things. We have been using this to our advantage, getting her to put all her blocks in a basket or all her stuffies in a bin. Tonight I got her to help me with *all* the different categories of toy, one by one. She did a great job and I was so proud and happy. A child who can actually help clean up her own mess? Be still my heart!

On a totally different subject: a while ago, I mentioned that Gwen's hair is actually quite long. It's hard to tell, because most of the time it looks like this:

So tonight, in the bath, I took a picture of her hair wetted down, before the curls kicked it back up. It looks like this:

Unbelievable, isn't it?