update

Writing blog posts is getting frackin' hard. Not the "writing" part, but the "using a computer without the baby wanting to grab at the keys and eat the screen and chew the cord" part.

So what's happened lately?

• Time inexplicably passed again. He's almost 10 months old.
• He got his seventh tooth.
• He's doing quite well eating small bits of "real" food. 
• I went to take a quick potty break, and when I got back he had climbed eight stairs and scared me to death. More than once, he's climbed the entire flight while supervised. A cardboard obstacle was built to stop or slow him.  Or trip me.
• He made friends with an almost-one-year-old at a baby shower on Saturday. There was a bit of cute monkey-see-monkey-do. 
• On Sunday, I threw a dirty diaper in frustration. I may or may not have been aiming at my husband's head. He may or may not have forgiven me. There wasn't that much poop in it. 
• Husband complained about baby food stuck in the carpet again, as if it is preventable. Wet Cheerios stick to everything and dry like glue. Just look at my shirt.

Mostly, I've been worrying a lot. When I first became a parent, the things to worry about were all obvious and expected, and I'd mentally prepared myself to handle them. But now, the things I worry about don't have solutions.

I don't know what I'm going to do when he outgrows his car seat. Sure, we have a different car seat ready for him, but it's not like his original. It doesn't slide into multiple bases in multiple cars. It's a big item that's meant to stay strapped into one car. Are we supposed to buy another one for our other car? And what about the grandparents' cars? And what about the fact that my car is the size of a toy and the idea of fitting a larger car seat in it (let alone taking it in and out repeatedly) is like a bad joke? We can't afford to trade my car in. My husband's car is older and will be the one that gets traded when the time comes.

Then there's nursing. I've obsessed over breastfeeding woes before, and it's getting worse. I used to provide at least eight ounces while at work. About four months in, that started getting difficult. Suddenly I was only able to provide six ounces while away from home. Now I'm LUCKY if I get a total of four ounces, because there is just no let down reflex. Even with this problem, though, I never had to worry about feeding him when I was home -- it was only the pump that my body stopped understanding.

But last night I couldn't get a let down with Fletcher, so now my worries are compounded. Eventually his tiredness won out over his hunger and he fell asleep. Then I went to bed with my failure, wondering what was happening to me, what I was supposed to do. I know he isn't starving, but... my baby went to bed hungry? What kind of mother am I? I'm so angry with my body, as it fails me time and again.

I'm not supposed to have a bad back at my age, yet it feels like someone has grabbed hold of each muscle and twisted. I've lost mobility in my neck, shoulders, arms. I've forced myself to learn how to accept the constant pain, even as new joint pain joins the party.

Is being able to feed my baby when he's hungry really too much to ask? I've done everything right. Why can't it do what it's supposed to do? For the first time, I really feel trapped by my body, because now it isn't just about me.

You know it's a sad state of affairs when you dream of winning the lottery so you can do things like see a health care professional and get a car with four doors.

affected

There is a guy I once knew thought I knew. There are victims. There is a lengthy prison sentence. Because there are victims, and I'm not one of them, it isn't my story to tell.

It changes things, though, when that horrible story about that horrible person is no longer separate and distant and anonymous. This is a person who was in my wedding, for pete's sake. Now it's there, lodged in my brain. How could he do it?

I don't mean to be vague and teasing. It's a story I feel the need to discuss, but cannot take ownership of, so it's a hard line to walk.

Why has it affected me, when he wasn't a close friend of mine? Just an acquaintance, really. The story has several dark and horrible facets, but one detail sticks with me. One detail is the reason I can't let go of this with a "oh, that's so terrible."

He has a baby boy.

It's none of my business. But.

In my head, I speculate. That cherubic boy is better off without his father, now that we know the ugliness inside him, right? I'm sure his mother and other family members provide all the love he could need. He may procure a wonderful stepfather. One way or another, I'm sure he has been hurt and will be hurt by the situation, but my thoughts are all hopeful for him.

But. How could he do it?

How could he be so selfish, and yet give up the one thing that I'm most selfish about?

How could a parent ever betray the child that came from him, the child he saw born into this world by the woman he vowed to love? The child who needed him? The child he should, himself, have needed? Even if he no longer wanted to be with his wife (no one knows), how could he make decisions that would surely take him away from his child?

I'm physically ill at the thought of ever hurting, losing, betraying my family. I need them. Do I need my husband and baby too much? I think I named my blog "obsession" because I wonder if I'm too dependent and needy. Whether the betrayer or the betrayed, I would not survive this horror story if it came home to me.

stitch

Churching with a nine-month-old is vastly different from churching with a four-month-old who dozed placidly in his car seat.

This older baby is a curious, crawling, climbing, determined, unstoppable godzilla. Actually, he reminds me of one of my favorite animated characters of all time, Stitch from Lilo and Stitch.

By the end of the church service, all I could say to Andy was, "We survived." Of course, I think the only part of the sermon I really heard was that if Jesus was on Facebook, The Bible would be his profile page. Ah, Mark Zuckerberg, your invention has so many applications.

I have to agree that this stage of babyhood is a riot. When he's awake, he goes NON-STOP, a little machine going up and down, over and under, over and over again. His latest skill is standing without support. He always looks a little surprised when he gets this far, and I'm never quite sure if he's thinking, "How do I walk now?" or "How do I sit without smashing my face?"

But I'm keeping my eyes peeled for those first steps.