The Heartbreak of Motherhood

I’ll be honest: the newborn stage wasn’t my favorite. I think a lot factored into that. We had a gassy, fussy baby. We were first time moms and had no idea what we were doing. There wasn’t a lot of sleep happening. Breastfeeding was tricky. Everything felt really hard—but apparently that means you’re doing it right?!

He's a pretty neat little dude at this point. But here's the thing: I spend all day cheering him on and celebrating him as he cruises toward new milestones. But at night, after we’ve read books and said prayers, and it’s just me holding him and singing to him, I find myself absolutely torn to pieces knowing that he is growing up so fast. I slow down our goodnight songs so I can hold him just a little bit longer. I stare at his little face in the dark and appreciate the weight of him in my arms, and think about the fact that one day he will be a surly teenager who is eating more in one week then I’ve eaten in the whole month. One day he’ll pull away from my kisses and choose hanging out with his friends over us. One day he’ll make a bad choice and need help fixing it. One day he will feel the pang of a broken heart. One day he will get his first job. Move out of the house. Maybe move away. Maybe come over for Sunday dinners, or maybe just on holidays.

One day, one day, one day.

He will always be my baby, but one day he won’t be a baby. And so today I’ll let him climb all over me and pull himself up and fall down. Today, I’ll hunch over and hold his little hands while he takes tentative steps. Today I’ll clap and encourage him as he learns to make his arms and legs work together to crawl. Today and today and today I will feel simultaneously filled and empty all at once, as I watch my heart go walking outside my body.

Where We Are, Where We're Going

I never get too attached to the feeling of, “Alright, I’ve got this,” because it is fleeting. But man, I am LOVING this stage. He is growing and learning so much so quickly. In the last month he has gone from sitting up with a Boppy behind him, to being able to transition himself from sitting to laying and back again. I’ll never forget watching him do it in his crib and being very excited, and then realizing, oh shit, it’s time to lower the crib! And about a week or so after that, I watched him pull himself up in his crib. The boy loves to stand! He has started crawling, but I don't think he will linger there long. It’s fun to watch him put the pieces of his world together. I see my students learning everyday, but so much of what he does is intrinsically motivated and self-directed (the way learning should be, but that’s a tangent for another time).

I have always been an avid reader, but my time for reading is almost nonexistent between work and taking care of babe. However, I do have 50 minutes in the car each day to listen to books. This has been helpful because I have listened to two great books regarding mister mister’s next steps in life, correlated to two of my biggest anxieties when it comes to him: eating and sleeping. 

Baby Led Weaning

In the last month he has been working on eating. We have started baby led weaning, which is a giant mindset shift for many people, including us, but I am so excited about the way it helps him grow and the skills it allows him to develop as an eater. He eats what we eat—starting with whole foods (think single ingredient) so he can explore different textures and flavors, with the added benefit of all the nutrient goodness in fruits, vegetables, meats, etc. He is learning to self feed, not only physically as he learns how to grasp and grab food and get it to his mouth, but also listening to his body (I want more, I’m full). I always imagined feeding babies as sitting there with a spoon and a jar of baby food begging them to take one more bite. This feels so much more natural, and he is learning so much. In BLW, you let baby put things in his mouth (even a preloaded spoon, with some guidance in the beginning.) The way food is cut is very important—most things are cut into strips of food that he can easily grab. Large strawberries are give to him whole. As he learns how to eat, he occasionally gags, and we are supposed to let him work it out—another part of the learning.  He is no more likely to choke doing BLW than spoon feeding. I will tell you that during an early gag, he ended up puking. But he picked up more food and kept eating right after, which made me feel much better.

Doing this with him has really made me think differently about food and what we eat. Don’t get me wrong, I put a lot of junk into my body, but also, I’m  more conscious of trying to create a better balance. Suddenly I’m thinking about things like shelf life—what exactly is in foods that can sit on the shelf for longer than it takes me to finish a book? And why would I want so much of those things in my body? It has been equal parts terrifying and exciting to go through this process with him. I’ve never watched someone eat so intensely! But he is doing so well with it. Here are some pictures of the fun we’ve been having:

Of course our child's first meal would be steak.

Big fan of broccoli!

And avocado.

Sweet potato fries were a hit.

Kiwi is not such a favorite.

Loved him some watermelon.

He had more fun playing in the yogurt than eating it.

Like asparagus a whole lot, too!

Again, loved to play in it.

Beans spread across toast.

Spinach omelette. 

Kiwi went a little better the second time.

BIG fan of steak and potatoes!

He thought turkey burger was okay, too :)

Goodnight, Sleep Tight

The other book I’ve listened to is called The Happy Sleeper, and ya’ll, I have learned SO MUCH from it! Everything about our bedtime routine felt really good. I would end it by rocking him to sleep and setting him down in his crib...then see his sweet little face anywhere from 1-3 times overnight. Around 5 months, he began waking up as I went to set him down in his crib. I’d pick him back up, rock him again, and repeat this process until finally we gave in and took shifts sleeping in the recliner with him. This was hard because it took away all of our mama time together and was super frustrating--why won't you just sleep, child?! Not to mention really draining. While listening to The Happy Sleeper one morning, the author said that around 5-6 months, babies have the ability to put themselves to sleep. But they need a chance to practice those skills. This part really got me: "At this point, bedtime and nighttime sleep should no longer feel like a lot of work for you. If you're still hushing everyone within a one mile radius, feeding or rocking until your child is in a deep sleep, or tiptoeing out of the room like a ninja-parent praying that she doesn't peep, you don't have to do this anymore." It almost had me in tears--really? We didn't have to do this anymore?! How, Happy Sleeper--TELL ME YOUR SECRETS!

I knew I didn't want to formally sleep train. There is no tear-free sleep training, but cry it out was definitely not an option my mama heart could handle. The Happy Sleeper introduced me to a method called the Sleep Wave--"wave" describing the way the parent flows in and out of the room at set intervals until baby is asleep. After 3 nights in the recliner, I was willing to try anything. The first night he cried for 15 minutes; the next night, 10. The night after, less than five. We had some ups and downs, but he started sleeping through the night and we are so grateful. Now we just need to iron out naps!

Chelsey keeps reminding me that he is now closer to a year than to being a little tiny baby blob. Oh, my heart. I worry about him more in some ways and less in others. I realized that this is how it will be now for the rest of my life. I was warned about this. Feeling it is a different story. But I also know that the joy I feel when I look at him and watch him learn in grow is something I get for the rest of my life. 

Just like everything else, it's about balance. 

Half Year, Full Awesome

I got my first piece of unsolicited advice from a stranger regarding how to take care of my child. After a long day of fussing and not being able to get him to nap, I threw Everett in the carrier and we went for a walk. It was a beautiful day. I knew the walk would put him to sleep in short order, and would also be
great for me. I walked and walked, and then I got tired, so I sat on a bench. A few older ladies strolled by, and one felt compelled to tell me that I needed to put something on him so he didn't get sunburned. Looking back, I really wish I would have said,  "No thank you, I like him extra crispy." But instead I said the truth, "Yep, it's on my list." But getting him to sleep was higher on my list. And he didn't get sunburned. 

Benefits of a global health crisis: it took 6 months to be told by a stranger how I should be taking care of my child!

6 months. I have a 6 month old in my house. I am unsure about how this happened. How has it been half a year? He is 15lbs 2 oz and 26 3/4 inches tall. He has two teeth and a whole lot of personality! Being home with him over Spring Break for 10 days was an absolute gift. It also gave me lots of time to reflect on the past 6 months. Here are some thoughts to share.

Being a parent changes you. It changes everything. 

Before he was born, I thought I would only breastfeed for 6 months. I mean, I was really sure about it. I knew breastfeeding was something I wanted to do for my boy, but was still feeling a little weird about it. It seemed okay for when he was little--I mean, really little. But as he got older and became "aware"--nah, I was out. Or so I thought. If you've been following along, you know that breastfeeding has not been an easy journey. The beginning was especially tricky. Frustrating, even, at times. But somewhere along the way, something changed. I think it started when I went back to work. He was 14 weeks old, and it was really hard. Coming home to him became the best part of my day. As we continued to settle into life and figure him out, we began to move his bedtime earlier, so he could get enough sleep. This meant that my time with him in the evenings slowly decreased. I began to look forward to his night time feeds. I missed him while he was asleep. Even now that he's sleeping for much longer stretches, I miss him.

We recently found out that part of our path to having another baby requires me to be done breastfeeding for a few months. And even though I started out thinking that this was a 6 month journey, I am really sad thinking about a time when it will come to an end. 

Before he was born, I thought I couldn't be there when he got his vaccines. I distinctly remember going with my mom to an appointment with my twin brothers when they were small. They got vaccines that day, and their little cries broke my heart. And I knew--I just knew--there was no way I could be the one to be there when my son got his. I also didn't ever imagine I would be parenting in a pandemic. Only one parent has been allowed at his check ups since he was two months old. Since I'm always the one with a list of questions, I'm the one who goes. Rotovirus, DTaP/Hep B/IPV, PCV13...one oral, and one shot in each thigh. 2, 4, 6 months. And it's the saddest thing in the world to watch his little face go from content to panicked, as he turns red and soundlessly amps up for a big cry.  The first time, I think I cried more than he did. And this last time, I think he still recovered before I did. It still breaks my heart, but in that moment, I am his person. As soon as he is done, I nurse him and he calms down and stops crying, and everything is right in the world again. 

Before he was born, I knew I would be parenting in a pandemic. I mean, I had certainly hoped it would be over by the time he got here, but the closer we got, the clearer it became that that was not in the cards. But it was alright. I had become accustomed to not going anywhere. Masks for visitors were a standard.
Grocery delivery was a godsend. What I did not anticipate was having to make the decision about whether or not to get a vaccine that had little to no research for pregnant and breastfeeding women. I had done everything I could to protect my baby while he grew inside of me. And was doing everything I could to keep him safe, happy, and healthy now that he was here. I consulted several doctors. I spent weeks and weeks thinking about it. I agonized over it. And finally, I decided to get it.  

A 6 month funny:

Most days I feel like I have it pretty together. During Spring Break, Everett and I got into a nice routine. He would wake up and eat, then we'd go downstairs and I'd plop him on his play mat while I made my breakfast. Well on this particular morning I was making breakfast and I happened to drop my yogurt, which of course splattered everywhere. I quickly wiped down the floor, cabinets, and counter, and realized I also had to ditch the shirt I was wearing. Does yogurt stain? Not sure, but I put a little cold water on it anyway. Everett was still playing, making sweet little baby sounds, including a sweet little baby toot. Those of you who have taken care of babies know there is a difference between sweet little baby toots and slick, wet baby farts that make you afraid to check their diaper. This was the former. A few more minutes of play and I realized that I have to go to the bathroom. This is trickier now that he's mobile, and also tippy. But we have a system. So I scooped him up with the Boppy and a toy and trucked him upstairs and set him up on the bathroom floor. I sit down, glance down, and notice a large yellow ish smear on my bare tummy. It took me a second to reason out what it was. I looked over at my son and see the same yellow stain on the Boppy. And the floor beneath him was also smeared with the same stain. Poop. Poop everywhere. I nearly had to throw out the whole baby and start over. Instead, I ran a bath--which he now really enjoys. He played, my breakfast grew cold on the table downstairs, and we call that parenting.

A 6 month serious:

I have started seeing a therapist for my anxiety. I didn't realize that's what I needed until I was talking with one of my besties one day, and the words came out of my mouth: "I think I need to talk to someone about my anxiety." In my head I was thinking about a doctor--my general physician? OBGYN? I had thought about it prior to that moment, but talked myself out of it by self-diagnosing: the symptoms of postpartum depression and anxiety didn't seem to fit what I was feeling. My friend responded to my statement by reminding me that therapy/counselling had been helpful in the past, and it sounded like a great idea. Why hadn't I thought of that! A conversation with Chelsey validated my feelings--she said my anxiety was the worst she had seen it. I'll say it again: Being a parent changes you. It changes everything. 

I know that I am doing the absolute best I can as a mom. My son is safe and happy and healthy. He's growing at what seems like warp speed. And I know I'm going to miss these days. But the anxiety that comes with keeping him safe and happy and healthy is overwhelming. And some times, paralyzing. On days when he is fussy and I can't figure out what he wants, I can't make simple decisions. When we leave him with a sitter--whether it's family or friends--I don't miss him, because I'm just worried about him. I worry about if he'll sleep, if he'll eat. And the thoughts just spiral. So I'm working on it. Because I need to. In order for babe to keep being safe and happy and healthy, mama has to be those things, too.