This week has been hard to witness. As a member of a family, a community and humanity as a whole this week has been nearly unbearable to witness. Random acts of violence, heartbreaking losses and general struggle are everywhere. I know I live in a white, upper middle class "I buy my groceries at the fancy co-op" sort of bubble. I am insulated from the constant barrage of war, poverty, violence and danger that permeates so many other human lives in so many places. I am beyond fortunate to live in a beautiful home with my loving partner and our healthy, beautiful daughter whom we conceived with absolutely no effort or struggle and whom I gave birth to (relatively) effortlessly and without major complications (Yes, I have gained some perspective). I am gainfully employed and passionately pursuing my dreams to become a nurse midwife. I am able to breastfeed easily, sleep well enough, eat anything I want and know that while I am at work, being paid equal wages to my male counterparts, my beautiful daughter is safe in the arms of people who genuinely love her. I am the most fortunate person I know. This week I am wracked with my own version of "white guilt". I feel sick with guilt for having all of this. Watching the waves wash through this week I felt like I was watching people on the beach drown and I couldn't throw a rope. My heart broke over and over as malls were shot up, families were destroyed, mothers lost the babies they had waited their whole lives to hold.
It has been unbelievably difficult to stop myself from throwing rocks at the sky and demanding answers. I am angry and scared and sad. I am constantly finding myself looking for rationalization of this insanity. I am in and out of tears a dozen times a day. It is times like these I struggle with my practice of Buddhism. I struggle to remember that while we are all interconnected by the collective consciousness, there is no great puppet master in robes and a beard trying to teach us a lesson. A woman does not lose her child "because". Shit is shitty and it happens sometimes. Hearts and families are broken and it is awful. It is sometimes the catalyst that engenders change but it is not because...it simply IS. And this week the "is-ness" is overwhelming. My desire to reduce things to bite size so that I might brush them off my plate and avoid the emotions they stir in me is so strong but that is not helpful. It does no good to me or to my community. Thats not to say that laying down in the road and crying myself dry would be helpful but there is something to be gained in my raw broken heart. People deserve to be seen and to have someone bear witness to the joy as well as the unspeakable. We honor each other by "seeing" each other and if I brush it away I am not seeing it and therefore I am not truly honoring my fellow human's experience.
In Buddhism there is a practice called Tonglen. In the simplest terms you imagine breathing in the suffering of others and breathing out relief for them. It is a practice in compassion and selflessness. It can be very powerful. It levels up as you become more practiced. You begin thinking of a particular person and practice exchanging "self for other" for them. Next you take it to a larger and larger group until you are practicing for all of human kind. It gets tougher as you expand out because you have to include people you dislike, prisoners, pedophiles, murderers, IRS agents...all of it. People usually run up against a barrier where they cant truly include a group or individual and that is where you must practice. To loosen the binds to the resistance. Its hard. This week I find myself too upset to include everyone. But I also cant figure out who to exclude. The failures of the system, the mentally ill, the higher power... I'm pissed and I have nowhere to point my anger and sadness and blame. I know too well that this is just a shit sandwich and it isnt even "my" sandwich and I am powerless against the devastation around me, unable to fix any of it or to assuage my own guilt so I will sit and practice and I will include myself in an act of forgiveness for my inability and for my own good luck.
Saturday, December 15, 2012
Tuesday, November 20, 2012
"Tell me about your mother(hood)'
I have a friend who has been thinking about babies and whether or not she would like to have one. Her major concern is that she would not love it "the way everyone talks about loving their kids". She fears she would be indifferent to the new person whom she turned her life inside out for. She fears she would fail at the loving part. At first I was inclined to scoff and say "thats ridiculous! Of course you will love it. Even before tiny was born I would have died for her!". But then I turned off my judgy brain and really thought about what she was saying.
My friend is quiet and shy and sensitive. Her own mother is the same way. Nobody lavishes affection on anyone and relationships are simple and unadorned. Even at her wedding, her mother did not fuss and fawn over her. Society would have us believe that her mother loves her less if she us not reenacting a hallmark commercial at her daughter's wedding, that somehow she is cold and unloving or less of a mother. If you dont constantly gush over your kid you are a stones throw from either neglect or mental delay by today's standards. It is crazy. My friend was really saying "I'm not a gooey, gushy person. What if I dont gush and marvel at my child 24/7? What if I get frustrated or tired? What if my husband and I have differing opinions on how to parent? What if my already very important relationships take a hit? What if I dont want to or am incapable of "losing myself in motherhood?". As far as society is concerned women should give birth, after a blissful pregnancy where vomiting all day and peeing all night are cute little annoyances instead of confidence shaking recurrences that fray your already hormonally challenged mental stability. You should only gain a bit of weight in belly and breast, look adorable in everything including your taco sauce stained last pair of pants that dont chafe your marbled belly. You should either formula feed or breastfeed effortlessly. By six weeks you should look mostly back to prepreg body except for awesome boobs and you should be dying to jump in the sack! You should be well rested enough to maintain the house while you are off work. You should not be crying, sweating, leaking milk and wondering if anyone got the license of the bus that just ran you over. You should not be awake in the middle of the night crying over cracked painful nipples, trying to nurse your baby while your partner slumbers gently and deeply beside you. You should not be planning ways to inflict max pain upon him when he wakes after six hours of sleep to your 90min, and then says something stupid like "what honey? Gah, I am so tired I cant even think straight". But most of all you should think everything your kid does is "The Best". Every fart, every booger, every sleepy eye rub has never been done better or cuter than your very own. You should feel no pain, no exhaustion, no hunger, thirst and certainly never fear, anxiety, resentment towards this magical creature. THAT would make you a monster!! So, I see where she is coming from. She loves her job. She and her huz have a fun life. They can afford nice things and travel. They live on their own clock and calendar. Wouldn't kids just complicate EVERYTHING? Yes, yes they do. At least in my experience. The first six months of my daughter's life were sone of the most intense months of my life for better and worse. I was happy, sad, broke, filthy, overwhelmed, convinced I would never want sex again, angry at my husband in ways I'd never felt before, tired (sweet jesus was I tired!), flabby, insecure, in pain, sweaty, stinky and melancholy for no reason whatsoever. That may seem like a long bummer list. You may be expecting me to say something like "but my daughter shits guinness cupcakes and milkshakes! She is magical and anesthetizing and worth every second of it!". I would only say part of that. She IS worth every second of bummer. Not because everything is ooey, gooey, wonderful all of the time but because it seems worthy. It is ordinary magic. The way I love her is not fancy or decadent. It does not anesthetize all pain. It does give me more joy and curiosity and wonder. Not wonder covered in glitter or joy that comes with a soundtrack. This contentment I feel is like a clean countertop or fresh sheets on your bed. It is only "perfect" for a moment but that moment is delicious. My life is not gloriously blissed out. My life is a series of tiny moments of perfect, simple, basic goodness. They punctuate the sleeplessness, they round off the sharp edges of conflict and guilt. They provide breathing room when the diapers and the laundry and the teething threaten to take over. They are the tiny fingers on my face, the shriek of glee when I come home, the curious person learning to pull herself up or crawl or put kix in her mouth by herself. They are nothing special at all really but they mean everything to me.
So, I told my friend that I understood where she was coming from. I understood the fear in the back of your mind asking "are you suuuuure?". I told her how I spent nearly the entire first trimester crying about how I had ruined our lives and then weeks 4-12 postpartum feeling the same way all too often. I told her the truth. Mothering someone is hard. But I told her its never hard because I dont love her and its never hard because I dont want to be her mom. Its the balancing act that takes constant attention and work. Communication, dedication to the other things in life that are less rewarding but very important, like the mortgage. "Its not all wine and roses"I said, "but it is the best peanut-butter and jelly sandwich I have ever had".
My friend is quiet and shy and sensitive. Her own mother is the same way. Nobody lavishes affection on anyone and relationships are simple and unadorned. Even at her wedding, her mother did not fuss and fawn over her. Society would have us believe that her mother loves her less if she us not reenacting a hallmark commercial at her daughter's wedding, that somehow she is cold and unloving or less of a mother. If you dont constantly gush over your kid you are a stones throw from either neglect or mental delay by today's standards. It is crazy. My friend was really saying "I'm not a gooey, gushy person. What if I dont gush and marvel at my child 24/7? What if I get frustrated or tired? What if my husband and I have differing opinions on how to parent? What if my already very important relationships take a hit? What if I dont want to or am incapable of "losing myself in motherhood?". As far as society is concerned women should give birth, after a blissful pregnancy where vomiting all day and peeing all night are cute little annoyances instead of confidence shaking recurrences that fray your already hormonally challenged mental stability. You should only gain a bit of weight in belly and breast, look adorable in everything including your taco sauce stained last pair of pants that dont chafe your marbled belly. You should either formula feed or breastfeed effortlessly. By six weeks you should look mostly back to prepreg body except for awesome boobs and you should be dying to jump in the sack! You should be well rested enough to maintain the house while you are off work. You should not be crying, sweating, leaking milk and wondering if anyone got the license of the bus that just ran you over. You should not be awake in the middle of the night crying over cracked painful nipples, trying to nurse your baby while your partner slumbers gently and deeply beside you. You should not be planning ways to inflict max pain upon him when he wakes after six hours of sleep to your 90min, and then says something stupid like "what honey? Gah, I am so tired I cant even think straight". But most of all you should think everything your kid does is "The Best". Every fart, every booger, every sleepy eye rub has never been done better or cuter than your very own. You should feel no pain, no exhaustion, no hunger, thirst and certainly never fear, anxiety, resentment towards this magical creature. THAT would make you a monster!! So, I see where she is coming from. She loves her job. She and her huz have a fun life. They can afford nice things and travel. They live on their own clock and calendar. Wouldn't kids just complicate EVERYTHING? Yes, yes they do. At least in my experience. The first six months of my daughter's life were sone of the most intense months of my life for better and worse. I was happy, sad, broke, filthy, overwhelmed, convinced I would never want sex again, angry at my husband in ways I'd never felt before, tired (sweet jesus was I tired!), flabby, insecure, in pain, sweaty, stinky and melancholy for no reason whatsoever. That may seem like a long bummer list. You may be expecting me to say something like "but my daughter shits guinness cupcakes and milkshakes! She is magical and anesthetizing and worth every second of it!". I would only say part of that. She IS worth every second of bummer. Not because everything is ooey, gooey, wonderful all of the time but because it seems worthy. It is ordinary magic. The way I love her is not fancy or decadent. It does not anesthetize all pain. It does give me more joy and curiosity and wonder. Not wonder covered in glitter or joy that comes with a soundtrack. This contentment I feel is like a clean countertop or fresh sheets on your bed. It is only "perfect" for a moment but that moment is delicious. My life is not gloriously blissed out. My life is a series of tiny moments of perfect, simple, basic goodness. They punctuate the sleeplessness, they round off the sharp edges of conflict and guilt. They provide breathing room when the diapers and the laundry and the teething threaten to take over. They are the tiny fingers on my face, the shriek of glee when I come home, the curious person learning to pull herself up or crawl or put kix in her mouth by herself. They are nothing special at all really but they mean everything to me.
So, I told my friend that I understood where she was coming from. I understood the fear in the back of your mind asking "are you suuuuure?". I told her how I spent nearly the entire first trimester crying about how I had ruined our lives and then weeks 4-12 postpartum feeling the same way all too often. I told her the truth. Mothering someone is hard. But I told her its never hard because I dont love her and its never hard because I dont want to be her mom. Its the balancing act that takes constant attention and work. Communication, dedication to the other things in life that are less rewarding but very important, like the mortgage. "Its not all wine and roses"I said, "but it is the best peanut-butter and jelly sandwich I have ever had".
Saturday, November 10, 2012
Some Days
And then there are days that start out hanging out at post with your favorite work partner so happy to chat and catch up that you dont nap but you dont care...you spend the day doing mostly nothing but the occasional drunk to the hospital run. You watch the Kona Ironman on TV and are just about done for the day when the tones blast forth from the radio and you are behind the wheel speeding of to a "god-damned late call". You arrive to find her in bed post-ictal? Maybe...PE? Maybe...Your partner breaks the bed putting oxygen on her and she is slowly waking up and talking to you. . You tell her "dont worry, we are going to take such good care of you. You just hang in there and let me know if anything changes". She smiles and nods she says "thank you", then she dies. The rest is a blur of living-room floor and neon green lines on the monitor, sweaty purple gloves drawing up drugs and pushing, pushing, PUSHING on her chest. The cardiologist is a tall woman who nods and says "yes, yes...I think the same thing". Pushing, pushing, pushing drugs, purple gloves, more drugs. Time of death.... Sometimes that is how your day ends and it hurts your heart. You care. She was someone's family, someone's love...she was your first code.
Friday, November 2, 2012
When you know your days are numbered
I am acutely aware that we have passed over the halfway mark of Ramona nursing as her primary nutrition source. I know that in a few short months I will have reduced her night feedings to one and then none. I will get more sleep but I will miss this secret, quiet, snuggle time. She nuzzles up and finds my breast without even opening her eyes. She sighs contentedly as she falls asleep full, comforted, happy. I feel an ultimate exchange of love and the remnants of our former closeness. It reminds me that she is of my body and the journey we shared to get her here and the weeks that followed where there was barely a separation between us.
She is growing so quickly, like a runaway train down a mountain. Time has never moved so quickly. I have never wanted to pause and just savor all of the sweetness and the struggle so badly. I love her so much it hurts. It is painful to know that if I do a good job, every day she takes a step away from me. If I support her and nurture and love her well she becomes stronger, more confidant and more independent with every passing day. Worst of all, she may never understand the true depth of my love for her. There is a secret love. It is secret only because it is not visible to the untrained eye. The training requires 9 months of stretching skin and aching bones followed by hours of labor and months of jagged sleep soaked in a potent cocktail of exhaustion, love, self doubt and utter amazement. There is no pedestrian path to this love. You must go all in to achieve it. It is difficult and wonderful all at once, and once you get there you realize that in exchange for the bliss you must break a tiny bit of your own heart every day to keep someone else thriving. I know my days are numbered so as she snores milky, drunk snores I will touch her face and smell her head and try my hardest to burn this feeling into my brain knowing how precious and fleeting it is. A perfect rainbow or the last perfect day of fall.
She is growing so quickly, like a runaway train down a mountain. Time has never moved so quickly. I have never wanted to pause and just savor all of the sweetness and the struggle so badly. I love her so much it hurts. It is painful to know that if I do a good job, every day she takes a step away from me. If I support her and nurture and love her well she becomes stronger, more confidant and more independent with every passing day. Worst of all, she may never understand the true depth of my love for her. There is a secret love. It is secret only because it is not visible to the untrained eye. The training requires 9 months of stretching skin and aching bones followed by hours of labor and months of jagged sleep soaked in a potent cocktail of exhaustion, love, self doubt and utter amazement. There is no pedestrian path to this love. You must go all in to achieve it. It is difficult and wonderful all at once, and once you get there you realize that in exchange for the bliss you must break a tiny bit of your own heart every day to keep someone else thriving. I know my days are numbered so as she snores milky, drunk snores I will touch her face and smell her head and try my hardest to burn this feeling into my brain knowing how precious and fleeting it is. A perfect rainbow or the last perfect day of fall.
Saturday, October 13, 2012
Tough stuff
Let me start by saying I love my husband. Let me next say I adore my daughter. I am very VERY happy to be a wife, a mother, a woman living this particular life. All of that said, this is some tough stuff.
Hubbs and I did a LOT of talking about how we wanted to raise this tiny person. We talked about sharing, being equal, continuing to communicate openly. The last two weeks have been hard. I feel like every time I find us in a "stage" I think there has never been such a tough one. That is of course, a lie. The first six weeks were the hardest. That learning curve is second to none. However, this most recent one has been harder than any of the others since week six.
Tiny girl is mobile, talking and teething. This means many things. She hasnt been sleeping very well. She gets overwrought and then sleeps in 90min chunks nursing hungrily and frequently. She wakes at 430 ready for the day. She is mobile. She is now strong enough to pull herself up to standing in the co-sleeper. This means she could easily swan-dive out, head first onto the floor. This means my mommy senses are piqued to shoot me from sleep at a moment's squeak. I rocketed awake to find her standing teetering on the edge just the other night. Needless to say, there are a few modifications in the works. For the immediate time being (the last two nights) she is sleeping in between us in the king size bed. Its not bad. I'm sleeping better knowing she is safe. (Cue the co-sleeping safety fear mongers). Anyway, sleep, yeah, she wakes up screaming mad and crawling. We have taken to interpreting the angry, inconsolable screaming as pain and have been treating with occasional motrin. It makes me feel guilty, like I should be able to soothe her some other way but fuck if I can figure it out so, motrin it is!
In the mean time, the Hubs and I are doing our best to keep from falling apart. We are trying to keep the house together (we are slobs and *shriek!* we have a mouse). We are trying to get through our own ickies (G a cold and me an infected toe (gross? You friggen bet)). We are working nearly full time 48 and 36hrs respectively. We are trying to carve out time to get me through nursing school. We are trying to be available to spend time with our friends more often. We are also trying to continue to cultivate and nurture our relationship as two adults who love each other independent of the incredible little soul we created together. This is the hard part.
I get tired and naggy. I get overwhelmed and short tempered. I feel like the last two weeks I have spent more time nagging him about helping me find some non mommy time, dishes, laundry, a leaky toilet, saving money, eating healthy and "participating" more. Gahh! When I look at this list I feel horrible. I know this is not even a comprehensive list!! I'm insane!! Poor G!! I feel like I dont have any extra energy and so I say the utilitarian stuff in a way that lacks any hint of garnish or sweetness. It sucks. I know he is tired and thus, he struggles to find the extra energy to find new ways to help me ir new ways to engage with the family. We get tired and we get stingy with our energy and that makes some poor, tired, crabby people. Instead, we really should pour what little we have in the tank into the other person. We ALWAYS feel best when we are taking care of each other. We are more fulfilled, more in love, happier and connected to one another. We just need to remember, when we feel poorest we need to give it ALL to one another.
I wish I could say I know it will get better in time but I cant. Its not that simple. It may get easier to work on with time, but probably not. But the key is the work. You have to work and not just on your partner's self esteem or last nerve. You need to work on loving each other, giving to eachother, offering up all the rest of your energy to them. If you have the right partner they will give you all they have too abd you will be full of love and not just exhaustion.....there will still be exhaustion but its sweeter somehow. So, there you have it. I'll check back in a week and let you know how it goes but for now, I am going to take my feverish, teething, bucket of drool abd chub down to my loving husband and giggle together as we feed her dinner and watch her make faces. This is the life of a mother, a wife, a woman doing her best to get it right.
Hubbs and I did a LOT of talking about how we wanted to raise this tiny person. We talked about sharing, being equal, continuing to communicate openly. The last two weeks have been hard. I feel like every time I find us in a "stage" I think there has never been such a tough one. That is of course, a lie. The first six weeks were the hardest. That learning curve is second to none. However, this most recent one has been harder than any of the others since week six.
Tiny girl is mobile, talking and teething. This means many things. She hasnt been sleeping very well. She gets overwrought and then sleeps in 90min chunks nursing hungrily and frequently. She wakes at 430 ready for the day. She is mobile. She is now strong enough to pull herself up to standing in the co-sleeper. This means she could easily swan-dive out, head first onto the floor. This means my mommy senses are piqued to shoot me from sleep at a moment's squeak. I rocketed awake to find her standing teetering on the edge just the other night. Needless to say, there are a few modifications in the works. For the immediate time being (the last two nights) she is sleeping in between us in the king size bed. Its not bad. I'm sleeping better knowing she is safe. (Cue the co-sleeping safety fear mongers). Anyway, sleep, yeah, she wakes up screaming mad and crawling. We have taken to interpreting the angry, inconsolable screaming as pain and have been treating with occasional motrin. It makes me feel guilty, like I should be able to soothe her some other way but fuck if I can figure it out so, motrin it is!
In the mean time, the Hubs and I are doing our best to keep from falling apart. We are trying to keep the house together (we are slobs and *shriek!* we have a mouse). We are trying to get through our own ickies (G a cold and me an infected toe (gross? You friggen bet)). We are working nearly full time 48 and 36hrs respectively. We are trying to carve out time to get me through nursing school. We are trying to be available to spend time with our friends more often. We are also trying to continue to cultivate and nurture our relationship as two adults who love each other independent of the incredible little soul we created together. This is the hard part.
I get tired and naggy. I get overwhelmed and short tempered. I feel like the last two weeks I have spent more time nagging him about helping me find some non mommy time, dishes, laundry, a leaky toilet, saving money, eating healthy and "participating" more. Gahh! When I look at this list I feel horrible. I know this is not even a comprehensive list!! I'm insane!! Poor G!! I feel like I dont have any extra energy and so I say the utilitarian stuff in a way that lacks any hint of garnish or sweetness. It sucks. I know he is tired and thus, he struggles to find the extra energy to find new ways to help me ir new ways to engage with the family. We get tired and we get stingy with our energy and that makes some poor, tired, crabby people. Instead, we really should pour what little we have in the tank into the other person. We ALWAYS feel best when we are taking care of each other. We are more fulfilled, more in love, happier and connected to one another. We just need to remember, when we feel poorest we need to give it ALL to one another.
I wish I could say I know it will get better in time but I cant. Its not that simple. It may get easier to work on with time, but probably not. But the key is the work. You have to work and not just on your partner's self esteem or last nerve. You need to work on loving each other, giving to eachother, offering up all the rest of your energy to them. If you have the right partner they will give you all they have too abd you will be full of love and not just exhaustion.....there will still be exhaustion but its sweeter somehow. So, there you have it. I'll check back in a week and let you know how it goes but for now, I am going to take my feverish, teething, bucket of drool abd chub down to my loving husband and giggle together as we feed her dinner and watch her make faces. This is the life of a mother, a wife, a woman doing her best to get it right.
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Being "The One"
I nannied for years. I was paid to care for the children of others for nearly ten years. I had many different families in those years. Some I thought I loved. I took care of some of them through the best and worst, from weeks old to school age. No matter the family or the kiddo one thing is 100% ubiquitous. When a child wants mom there are no real substitutions. You can be the best babysitter/aunt/best friend in the world and it.does.not.matter. Mom is mom. Accept no substitutions.
I now have a daughter of my own and I have to tell you, I love being "Mom". I love finally being "the one". Tonight we put R down to bed and she awoke two hours later screaming and upset. We both had flu shots yesterday and I suspect she is teething so I gave her some baby motrin. She fell asleep in my arms and as I tucked her in under her fleecy blanket I sighed relishing the simple moments where just being mom is the soothing element she needs. I know they are fleeting and because of that, I make a point to be actively thankful for the chance to be enough just by "being"and knowing where the motrin is.
I now have a daughter of my own and I have to tell you, I love being "Mom". I love finally being "the one". Tonight we put R down to bed and she awoke two hours later screaming and upset. We both had flu shots yesterday and I suspect she is teething so I gave her some baby motrin. She fell asleep in my arms and as I tucked her in under her fleecy blanket I sighed relishing the simple moments where just being mom is the soothing element she needs. I know they are fleeting and because of that, I make a point to be actively thankful for the chance to be enough just by "being"and knowing where the motrin is.
Wanting more for us all
Nursing school...Midwifery...Another baby...Thing X for the Hubbs...I want more. I have been thinking a lot about the future and realizing that life is never going to get less complicated. The time is now.
Flash forward six weeks...I have a seven month old, a full time job an a letter welcoming me to nursing school. I am doing this. The Hubs and I are working out schedules to get me study times and I am on fire. I am so excited. I have been destined to become a midwife my whole life. My first birth, at ten years old, awoke a calling in me. At times I have doubted what I was hearing. For a long time I thought my Mom's calling was what I was hearing drowning out my own. I tried the Maritime Academy, pre-med, paramedicine, now back to nursing. As I think it through I realize how specific my calling is. I could not be happy as a floor nurse or an emergency nurse. I am here to help moms and babies and families. Midwifery is like breathing. It is something I have tested my ability to avoid but have found elemental to life instead of optional. I am ok with that. I look forward to treading in the steps of my mother, the women who held my face as I labored with Ramona, the women who sit quietly in dark huts in the jungle and those who ride through the city streets in the middle of the night to "attend" to families. I cannot wait to be of service to women and families. I cannot wait to bear witness to the beauty and the heartbreak, the humbling power of families growing. Birth....it is not just a new baby but a new MOTHER and a new family. Birth leaves an imprint on everyone in the room, every time. I want a thousand imprints.... I want to be a fully awake and realized person. I want to show my daughter what following a twisted path to a dream looks like. I want to have more money for my work and more time for my family. I want to be able to offer G time and financial support to go after his dreams too. I want more, more for us all. So, for now I will work hard, study hard and love with all my might. It seems like the best way to start.
Flash forward six weeks...I have a seven month old, a full time job an a letter welcoming me to nursing school. I am doing this. The Hubs and I are working out schedules to get me study times and I am on fire. I am so excited. I have been destined to become a midwife my whole life. My first birth, at ten years old, awoke a calling in me. At times I have doubted what I was hearing. For a long time I thought my Mom's calling was what I was hearing drowning out my own. I tried the Maritime Academy, pre-med, paramedicine, now back to nursing. As I think it through I realize how specific my calling is. I could not be happy as a floor nurse or an emergency nurse. I am here to help moms and babies and families. Midwifery is like breathing. It is something I have tested my ability to avoid but have found elemental to life instead of optional. I am ok with that. I look forward to treading in the steps of my mother, the women who held my face as I labored with Ramona, the women who sit quietly in dark huts in the jungle and those who ride through the city streets in the middle of the night to "attend" to families. I cannot wait to be of service to women and families. I cannot wait to bear witness to the beauty and the heartbreak, the humbling power of families growing. Birth....it is not just a new baby but a new MOTHER and a new family. Birth leaves an imprint on everyone in the room, every time. I want a thousand imprints.... I want to be a fully awake and realized person. I want to show my daughter what following a twisted path to a dream looks like. I want to have more money for my work and more time for my family. I want to be able to offer G time and financial support to go after his dreams too. I want more, more for us all. So, for now I will work hard, study hard and love with all my might. It seems like the best way to start.
Tuesday, September 25, 2012
Reality
At my doctor's office today for an infected toe. "Oh my gosh! You look great! How's mommy life?!". "Great! She is amazing, G is amazing, aside from three months of thrush its a dream come true, really.". "Mah!, thrush is no big deal. Once you stop nursing it will go away.". I love my doctor but that was such a dude thing to say. Even the nurse rolled her eyes when he left and said "You can tell he never nursed!"
Friday, September 21, 2012
7 Months
You are strong and opinionated
You are wise and very old
My favorite traveling companion
The sweetest touch to my cheek
My alarm clock and my lullaby
Story teller and audience
A tiny mirror to my best intentions
My motivation to work harder, to love myself more, to try try try
In the past seven months you have crumbled old walls and awakened the siren call of a future I had nearly forgotten to go get. Everything is different my dear.
Faster and less busy
Exhausted and more alive
Simpler in this complex new web
I thought "this is survival!" but I now understand this is living.
You have expanded us and boiled us down to what is more important. We walk just to walk now, not only to arrive. You have made it clear to us, the walk is just as rich as the arrival.
Thank you for my home, my family
Thank you for this new love pouring out of me and my new eyes
It is beautiful here
All sleepy and grinning
I kiss your head and fall in love
A thousand times a day
You are wise and very old
My favorite traveling companion
The sweetest touch to my cheek
My alarm clock and my lullaby
Story teller and audience
A tiny mirror to my best intentions
My motivation to work harder, to love myself more, to try try try
In the past seven months you have crumbled old walls and awakened the siren call of a future I had nearly forgotten to go get. Everything is different my dear.
Faster and less busy
Exhausted and more alive
Simpler in this complex new web
I thought "this is survival!" but I now understand this is living.
You have expanded us and boiled us down to what is more important. We walk just to walk now, not only to arrive. You have made it clear to us, the walk is just as rich as the arrival.
Thank you for my home, my family
Thank you for this new love pouring out of me and my new eyes
It is beautiful here
All sleepy and grinning
I kiss your head and fall in love
A thousand times a day
Friday, September 7, 2012
The Space Created By Exhaustion
Having a baby is a lot of work. News flash right? I thought so. But truly. The first three months are weapons grade exhausting and then things get easier just for a bit while life starts to catch up. I went back to work at five months but the Hubbs stayed home for six weeks so I came home to dinners and a happy baby and didnt have to worry about child care... Pretty dreamy. In addition, he is an amazing dad so I only really had to worry about me. Tiny girl hardly noticed I was gone.
Anyway, this past few weeks have been totally beautiful and exhausting. Tiny girl is learning to crawl. She gets up on hands and knees and rocks back and forth. She works so hard. She has been waking up at night to practice this too. She wakes at 1 and is up until 3 or 4. It is insane. She is happy and chirping and awake.
I occasionally freak out in the middle of the night when this is happening. I loose my composure and the sleep deprived self centered teenager erupts saying things like "I cant take it! She wont go back to sleep!" and "This is bullshit! Your turn" followed by me handing a happily squawking baby to the Hubbs and bailing out to the guest room for at least a few hours before she needs to nurse again. In those moments I feel so much emotion bubbling up inside and I just spark like a blown fuse. I loose perspective in the grey half light of dawn.
I have been reading a really awesome blog https://unraveledword.wordpress.com
And this mother is exploring spirituality through the lens of parenting. She has some really amazing observations but none yet have struck me as deeply as that about parenting, exhaustion and the work it does on ego.
I lived my entire life in a state of duality. I thought about everything all the time. How I looked, what I wanted, what my thoughts and desires said about me. I was constantly observing myself and levying judgement upon myself for every little thing. In addition I spent a great deal of time labeling things good/bad/neutral. I would find myself happy or sad or exhausted and very self indulgently spend all day grasping or rejecting or ignoring whatever it was. I was working hard to manage and control my experiences. Then I had a baby....
I have never spent so much time being totally present. It is very much as if there is nowhere else to be. I find myself too exhausted to manage and to in love to reject. All that is left is being right on the spot. Loving something so much and being so exhausted seem to cancel out eachother. I am pinned to the now or maybe freed to the now is a better expression of it. It is amazing to feel myself want something or need something but then to know that it is just not going to happen right now because Tiny needs something mire important. In my past that would have been too much. I would have bitched and whined and been miserable. The constant demands on me physically and mentally are grinding away at my sense of 'Me' as I have known for so long. I no longer think of myself as the pinnacle of importance I once did. Now, I have others I want to give to. Others I want to see happy and at ease. This is not to say I dont care about myself or I no longer have an identity. No, I still have some of that. It just doesnt seem to hold the same value anymore. It is no longer SO important to protect my 'ME'. She is tough, she is soft, she loves others more than herself (most of the time). These glimpses into 'Now' and more distilled Bodichitta are beautiful and quite ordinary. I find them most clearly in the days following the most sleepless nights. I have no choice but to get up and once I do there is so much to fall in love with it becomes hard to remain miserable.
Anyway, this past few weeks have been totally beautiful and exhausting. Tiny girl is learning to crawl. She gets up on hands and knees and rocks back and forth. She works so hard. She has been waking up at night to practice this too. She wakes at 1 and is up until 3 or 4. It is insane. She is happy and chirping and awake.
I occasionally freak out in the middle of the night when this is happening. I loose my composure and the sleep deprived self centered teenager erupts saying things like "I cant take it! She wont go back to sleep!" and "This is bullshit! Your turn" followed by me handing a happily squawking baby to the Hubbs and bailing out to the guest room for at least a few hours before she needs to nurse again. In those moments I feel so much emotion bubbling up inside and I just spark like a blown fuse. I loose perspective in the grey half light of dawn.
I have been reading a really awesome blog https://unraveledword.wordpress.com
And this mother is exploring spirituality through the lens of parenting. She has some really amazing observations but none yet have struck me as deeply as that about parenting, exhaustion and the work it does on ego.
I lived my entire life in a state of duality. I thought about everything all the time. How I looked, what I wanted, what my thoughts and desires said about me. I was constantly observing myself and levying judgement upon myself for every little thing. In addition I spent a great deal of time labeling things good/bad/neutral. I would find myself happy or sad or exhausted and very self indulgently spend all day grasping or rejecting or ignoring whatever it was. I was working hard to manage and control my experiences. Then I had a baby....
I have never spent so much time being totally present. It is very much as if there is nowhere else to be. I find myself too exhausted to manage and to in love to reject. All that is left is being right on the spot. Loving something so much and being so exhausted seem to cancel out eachother. I am pinned to the now or maybe freed to the now is a better expression of it. It is amazing to feel myself want something or need something but then to know that it is just not going to happen right now because Tiny needs something mire important. In my past that would have been too much. I would have bitched and whined and been miserable. The constant demands on me physically and mentally are grinding away at my sense of 'Me' as I have known for so long. I no longer think of myself as the pinnacle of importance I once did. Now, I have others I want to give to. Others I want to see happy and at ease. This is not to say I dont care about myself or I no longer have an identity. No, I still have some of that. It just doesnt seem to hold the same value anymore. It is no longer SO important to protect my 'ME'. She is tough, she is soft, she loves others more than herself (most of the time). These glimpses into 'Now' and more distilled Bodichitta are beautiful and quite ordinary. I find them most clearly in the days following the most sleepless nights. I have no choice but to get up and once I do there is so much to fall in love with it becomes hard to remain miserable.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
Learning to trust myself
A little while ago I was sleep deprived and looking for answers to help me help tiny sleep better. She has never slept through the night. She is six and a halfish months old and I was certain it was my "fault" that she was still waking 3-4 times between 8pm and 6am. I was looking through my library and found a book on all things baby. It promised to help me troubleshoot everything from sleep to solids. Awesome. After reading about half of it I started to feel a cold panic set in. It talked about co-sleeping and night nursing as obstacles and encouraged a modified cry it out method to help teach my baby how to put herself to sleep. I started to feel like a bad mom. Some of my favorite things about our laid-back attachment parenting approach (co-sleeping, nursing on demand, no rigid sleep/wake/feed schedule, lots of cuddle time) were being listed as potential roots of my baby's "problem". I started spiraling into a tornado of self doubt.
I told the Hubbs that we needed to start her on a more strict schedule and we needed to start putting her down and letting her fuss a bit more if she wakes up at night. I told him we need to start trying to get her to sleep without feeding her. I was feeling dizzy with anxiety and insecurity. I was a horrible mother! I was coddling my baby and ruining her!! I collapsed into bed on the fourth day, crying and feeling utterly crappy. Then I called my mom buddy J. I told her everything and told her what the book said and how awful I was and what a terrible parent I was. She said "Listen to me and don't get upset but this might sound harsh and I don't mean it to. You are one of the most intuitive moms I know. You have a great relationship with R and she is a happy, confidant, well adjusted kid. She is little. If she needs you she probably needs you. She's not waking up to be a jerk. I dont think this book knows you or your baby. It doesnt sound quite right for you". I was taken aback. She was right. I had made it six months without killing or obviously damaging this tiny person. Hell, for a six month old she was really very happy. Hardley ever cries, happy with other people, puts herself to sleep really REALLY well. So far, all signs point to "doing a pretty good job with this mom thing". Why, all of the sudden, am I now going to trash all of that and decide I am a horrible parent who is ruining my daughter?
I decided to take my dear friend's observation and advice and continue to listen to my own inner compass and intuition. I know my baby and she knows me. She trusts me and G to be there for her, to feed her when she is hungry, cuddle when she is in need and not to abandon her at night or any other time. Sorry baby trainer lady! It just wasnt going to work for us. I know a lot of parents who have had success with varying degrees of cry it out but I just couldn't and really didn't think it was necessary. I opted to trust myself, trust my baby and take it day by day.
We dont nurse to sleep. She has her own sleeping space. She is allowed time to self soothe and fuss a bit without anyone rushing right in. But we dont let her cry. Her fuss and cry are very different and she really only cries when something is wrong (diaper, hungry, cold, pain, very tired, too long in car seat). I dont want her to have to feel like bedtime is so sad that she has to cry. I DO want her to learn to calm herself and soothe herself. So here is how we do it and it is working like a charm. Around 7-715 she gets changed into jammies and disposable diaper. We then head upstairs and sing a few songs and maybe read a book. Final top off nursing is next and then she goes into her bed (sidecar co-sleeper). While she is calm and quiet I let her roll around snuggling up to her "sweet puppy" blanket. I lay in bed nearby but dont interact. I dont talk or pat or shush or anything. If she seems to be wound up and struggling I will put my hand on her back and discourage her from rolling all over and say "its time for sleep. I love you" once. I keep my hand there only until she stops struggling against it as I want her to fall asleep "free" to move in any way she feels most comfortable. Most nights she doesn't need my hand or any words at all but plenty of nights she'll doze off and wake up and look to see if I am there. Once she sees me she falls quickly back asleep.
The bottom line is she is a baby. She is only 6 months old and she still needs us. I dont have a problem with that. I do want to keep working on expanding her capacity for independence ESPECIALLY emotionally. I want her to trust we will always be there but also feel confidant that she doesnt always need us. I never imagined cultivating and supporting a strong, tender nature would start so soon. But maybe thats the ticket. Dont wait until your kiddo is three or seven or fifteen to try to teach independence, self reliance, trust and emotional intelligence. Start the day they are born. Listen to them (different from listening to your wants and wishes for them). Listen and observe what they are asking for and what they are capable of on their own. It will delight and astound you.
I told the Hubbs that we needed to start her on a more strict schedule and we needed to start putting her down and letting her fuss a bit more if she wakes up at night. I told him we need to start trying to get her to sleep without feeding her. I was feeling dizzy with anxiety and insecurity. I was a horrible mother! I was coddling my baby and ruining her!! I collapsed into bed on the fourth day, crying and feeling utterly crappy. Then I called my mom buddy J. I told her everything and told her what the book said and how awful I was and what a terrible parent I was. She said "Listen to me and don't get upset but this might sound harsh and I don't mean it to. You are one of the most intuitive moms I know. You have a great relationship with R and she is a happy, confidant, well adjusted kid. She is little. If she needs you she probably needs you. She's not waking up to be a jerk. I dont think this book knows you or your baby. It doesnt sound quite right for you". I was taken aback. She was right. I had made it six months without killing or obviously damaging this tiny person. Hell, for a six month old she was really very happy. Hardley ever cries, happy with other people, puts herself to sleep really REALLY well. So far, all signs point to "doing a pretty good job with this mom thing". Why, all of the sudden, am I now going to trash all of that and decide I am a horrible parent who is ruining my daughter?
I decided to take my dear friend's observation and advice and continue to listen to my own inner compass and intuition. I know my baby and she knows me. She trusts me and G to be there for her, to feed her when she is hungry, cuddle when she is in need and not to abandon her at night or any other time. Sorry baby trainer lady! It just wasnt going to work for us. I know a lot of parents who have had success with varying degrees of cry it out but I just couldn't and really didn't think it was necessary. I opted to trust myself, trust my baby and take it day by day.
We dont nurse to sleep. She has her own sleeping space. She is allowed time to self soothe and fuss a bit without anyone rushing right in. But we dont let her cry. Her fuss and cry are very different and she really only cries when something is wrong (diaper, hungry, cold, pain, very tired, too long in car seat). I dont want her to have to feel like bedtime is so sad that she has to cry. I DO want her to learn to calm herself and soothe herself. So here is how we do it and it is working like a charm. Around 7-715 she gets changed into jammies and disposable diaper. We then head upstairs and sing a few songs and maybe read a book. Final top off nursing is next and then she goes into her bed (sidecar co-sleeper). While she is calm and quiet I let her roll around snuggling up to her "sweet puppy" blanket. I lay in bed nearby but dont interact. I dont talk or pat or shush or anything. If she seems to be wound up and struggling I will put my hand on her back and discourage her from rolling all over and say "its time for sleep. I love you" once. I keep my hand there only until she stops struggling against it as I want her to fall asleep "free" to move in any way she feels most comfortable. Most nights she doesn't need my hand or any words at all but plenty of nights she'll doze off and wake up and look to see if I am there. Once she sees me she falls quickly back asleep.
The bottom line is she is a baby. She is only 6 months old and she still needs us. I dont have a problem with that. I do want to keep working on expanding her capacity for independence ESPECIALLY emotionally. I want her to trust we will always be there but also feel confidant that she doesnt always need us. I never imagined cultivating and supporting a strong, tender nature would start so soon. But maybe thats the ticket. Dont wait until your kiddo is three or seven or fifteen to try to teach independence, self reliance, trust and emotional intelligence. Start the day they are born. Listen to them (different from listening to your wants and wishes for them). Listen and observe what they are asking for and what they are capable of on their own. It will delight and astound you.
Sunday, August 19, 2012
Baby steps...
So, the breasts are still a mess. I talked to my mom today and apparently three weeks of ground glass breast pain is "pager worthy". I got ahold of my Midwives (who I worship like the magical goddesses they are) and tomorrow I start two weeks of meds for this icky stuff. I think my boobs feel a little better tonight just knowing help is on the way. The funniest part of the whole thing had to be when I told her I had been hurting for three weeks and the Queen of the midwives (the toughest, smartest, sorta socially awkwardest) said "oh Honey! That sounds horrible!". And then went on to lament lactation consultants who try to treat systemic yeast with "boiling things and topical creams! It drives me crazy!" It made me laugh.
So, this morning after a totally wild night on the part of the starfish, I pried myself from bed just about the time she decided to nap. I got a wild hair and set to work with phase one of baby-proofing. In this phase you have to purge some shit and move some other shit and make space for things you don't want in the baby's paws or mouth in other rooms while trying to maintain some semblance of "adultness" about the house. I have begun this process in the most predictable way. I found some free furniture on the side of the road. No? Not predictable? Huh. Anyway, I was out running with tiny and this guy was just putting this cool old dry sink out with a free sign on it. I told him I wanted it and boggied home to get the Jeep. This piece is ideal because it has doors and is thus babyproofable. It has replaced an open book case that was our ever cluttered front door catchall. Today I cleared out the bookshelf and yadda yadda yadda moved a ton of stuff to better homes and tossed a big box of crap. It felt soooo good! I have been following the tumblr "unfuck your habitat" and it is all about tiny steps to help us mere mortals live less messy, chaotic lives. It recommends 20 minute cleaning flurries and simple daily tasks to help avoid the overwhelming super cleans. All morning I just kept telling G "I just want to finish unfucking the front room, the baby room, the kitchen, the WORLD!!". I was on a roll! It was amazing. I am happily sitting in the living room (not totally unfucked yet but waay better) enjoying a cocktail feeling pretty good about life.
After "The Great Unfucking" as I will be referring to it, we went hiking. We did a 5mile hike in the beautiful woods downtown. Starfish was quite happy to ride in the backpack and we kept up a hearty pace up and back. It felt awesome. There is a big part of me that feels like being pregnant was such a cardiovascular demand that I never really stopped working out. I swam and hiked and ran for the first half too. I didn't really slow down until after R was born. In fact, the day I went into labor I swam in the morning. It was more about managing the swelling but I swam for 45 minutes none the less. Thats right, I was a giant swollen tough girl. :)
Anyway, my point is that my recent workouts have been much easier than expected. Pushing the jogger is fun AND leads me to better posture making my back much less sore. But best of all, it makes working out something I can do with tiny. I was so afraid that I would be too lazy or weak to be one of those women who worked out after baby. Well, this girl is a smaller, less swollen, flabbier version of the badass mentioned above and she IS totally the kind of mom who runs long distances with a kiddo in the jogger! I meant what I said about making a serious effort to be a positive body image role model for my daughter and well, it isn't going to happen on its own. So tomorrow is another day, full of things to do and spaces to baby-proof but happily it will start with an early morning run. One foot in front of the other.
So, this morning after a totally wild night on the part of the starfish, I pried myself from bed just about the time she decided to nap. I got a wild hair and set to work with phase one of baby-proofing. In this phase you have to purge some shit and move some other shit and make space for things you don't want in the baby's paws or mouth in other rooms while trying to maintain some semblance of "adultness" about the house. I have begun this process in the most predictable way. I found some free furniture on the side of the road. No? Not predictable? Huh. Anyway, I was out running with tiny and this guy was just putting this cool old dry sink out with a free sign on it. I told him I wanted it and boggied home to get the Jeep. This piece is ideal because it has doors and is thus babyproofable. It has replaced an open book case that was our ever cluttered front door catchall. Today I cleared out the bookshelf and yadda yadda yadda moved a ton of stuff to better homes and tossed a big box of crap. It felt soooo good! I have been following the tumblr "unfuck your habitat" and it is all about tiny steps to help us mere mortals live less messy, chaotic lives. It recommends 20 minute cleaning flurries and simple daily tasks to help avoid the overwhelming super cleans. All morning I just kept telling G "I just want to finish unfucking the front room, the baby room, the kitchen, the WORLD!!". I was on a roll! It was amazing. I am happily sitting in the living room (not totally unfucked yet but waay better) enjoying a cocktail feeling pretty good about life.
After "The Great Unfucking" as I will be referring to it, we went hiking. We did a 5mile hike in the beautiful woods downtown. Starfish was quite happy to ride in the backpack and we kept up a hearty pace up and back. It felt awesome. There is a big part of me that feels like being pregnant was such a cardiovascular demand that I never really stopped working out. I swam and hiked and ran for the first half too. I didn't really slow down until after R was born. In fact, the day I went into labor I swam in the morning. It was more about managing the swelling but I swam for 45 minutes none the less. Thats right, I was a giant swollen tough girl. :)
Anyway, my point is that my recent workouts have been much easier than expected. Pushing the jogger is fun AND leads me to better posture making my back much less sore. But best of all, it makes working out something I can do with tiny. I was so afraid that I would be too lazy or weak to be one of those women who worked out after baby. Well, this girl is a smaller, less swollen, flabbier version of the badass mentioned above and she IS totally the kind of mom who runs long distances with a kiddo in the jogger! I meant what I said about making a serious effort to be a positive body image role model for my daughter and well, it isn't going to happen on its own. So tomorrow is another day, full of things to do and spaces to baby-proof but happily it will start with an early morning run. One foot in front of the other.
Saturday, August 18, 2012
If everyone knew how glam breastfeeding is they'd all be doing it
So, I have been back to work for a month now and all in all its going pretty well. Pumping is hugely inconvenient and way more stressful than I had anticipated. That said, I am thrilled to be producing enough milk to more than keep up with her demand, no matter how crappy it feels to have to put my ambulance out of service to pump OR worse yet, to be trying to stealth pump without going out of service and to get a 911 call as soon as I manage to let down. Ffffff! Its the worst.
Yes, I am managing, even with the crazy crazy heat, to keep up. I am not however, managing to do it without a price. I have a totally awful yeast infection (breast not lady land) and it is 1.Super hard to get rid of and 2.Makes me want to drive my car off a bridge. Seriously! I have painful lumps and sore pink nipples and owie owie owie!
I saw a lactation consultant last week and she gave me ideas. The problem is that during the work week I dont have time to take proper care of my gear or my "gear". If I am pumping in back of the rig (ewww gross! Hate soo much!) I dont have access to a sink or any other way to clean up. When I get to a hospital and get to pump in a real pumping room I have only so much time and thus rush around maybe getting to steam my gear maybe not. It sucks to feel so rushed and to have to hurry to the point of giving myself this infection. I hear people when they say "you have to just do what is best for your baby and work can wait" but unfortunately that just wont work. I need to be a team player. I need to keep my dispatcher happy. I need to write charts, and care for patients. Like I said, this is a LOT harder and more stressful than I ever expected. So, here I am. I think I need to call my midwives. I think I need some meds to help with this. I am sore and exasperated. I feel like a failure for not keeping clean and healthy. I want to just go back to being home and not pumping four times a day. I want a money tree in the back yard.... And a pony.
Yes, I am managing, even with the crazy crazy heat, to keep up. I am not however, managing to do it without a price. I have a totally awful yeast infection (breast not lady land) and it is 1.Super hard to get rid of and 2.Makes me want to drive my car off a bridge. Seriously! I have painful lumps and sore pink nipples and owie owie owie!
I saw a lactation consultant last week and she gave me ideas. The problem is that during the work week I dont have time to take proper care of my gear or my "gear". If I am pumping in back of the rig (ewww gross! Hate soo much!) I dont have access to a sink or any other way to clean up. When I get to a hospital and get to pump in a real pumping room I have only so much time and thus rush around maybe getting to steam my gear maybe not. It sucks to feel so rushed and to have to hurry to the point of giving myself this infection. I hear people when they say "you have to just do what is best for your baby and work can wait" but unfortunately that just wont work. I need to be a team player. I need to keep my dispatcher happy. I need to write charts, and care for patients. Like I said, this is a LOT harder and more stressful than I ever expected. So, here I am. I think I need to call my midwives. I think I need some meds to help with this. I am sore and exasperated. I feel like a failure for not keeping clean and healthy. I want to just go back to being home and not pumping four times a day. I want a money tree in the back yard.... And a pony.
Wednesday, August 15, 2012
Then you wake up to a 6 month old!!
Tiny girl turns SIXMONTHSOHHOLYSHIT! Old next week. I have been back to work for three weeks and Papa has been keeping the home fires burning. He is doing a phenomenal job too. He cooks, cleans, caters to our ever increasingly demanding, MOBILE ( more on that later) daughter with tenderness and insight that moves me to tears. He is loving, adventurous and kinda hot as a "dad". He is also being super honest with me about how tough it is to be 100% present for the baby for 13+ hrs a day for multiple days on end.
At first I was frustrated. I heard a loud voice in my head anytime he expressed feelings of tiredness or overwhelmedness. "You think YOU're tired?! I have been growing this critter and now feeding her for over a year! It has LITERALLY been I don't know how long since I have slept for more than 4 hours! You have absolutely NO concept of tired or overwhelmed!". Then I stopped, shook it off like one of those St Bernards in Beethoven part 2, and realized that it is ALL about context. He is tired. He is overwhelmed. This is the most a lot of things he has ever been and he is just as entitled to his feelings as I am and a good partner puts that bitchy "let me tell you..." voice in timeout and hears her partner out with a quiet mind and a soft heart. This shit is tough folks. There is a lot that we cant fix. There are even plenty of things that we cant take the sting out of *coughmyutterlackofsexdrivecough* but we (I) can try harder to show up for him. I can dig deep and find a few more bits of energy to give to him.
Equity will look very different for a while still. I am trying hard to get my body back in good shape for work as much as for vanity and I am still pumping and nursing. It takes a lot of time and I am not sleeping so I am pretty wiped out but it is time to toughen up and adapt for the Huz. He needs his teammate back and I dont think it is too much to ask.
In the words of The Weepies "the world spins madly on". Ramona started crawling, summer is wrapping up and life is fuller than ever. I would not change this life for all the gold in the world. It is both harder and richer than I could have ever imagined or hoped. I can see the days pass and tiny grow bigger, stronger, more curious right before my very eyes. It is a wild and wonderful fog of wiggles and diapers and soft chubby limbs. At six months I can say I have never known this kind of love...now to get the rest of my life back together :)
At first I was frustrated. I heard a loud voice in my head anytime he expressed feelings of tiredness or overwhelmedness. "You think YOU're tired?! I have been growing this critter and now feeding her for over a year! It has LITERALLY been I don't know how long since I have slept for more than 4 hours! You have absolutely NO concept of tired or overwhelmed!". Then I stopped, shook it off like one of those St Bernards in Beethoven part 2, and realized that it is ALL about context. He is tired. He is overwhelmed. This is the most a lot of things he has ever been and he is just as entitled to his feelings as I am and a good partner puts that bitchy "let me tell you..." voice in timeout and hears her partner out with a quiet mind and a soft heart. This shit is tough folks. There is a lot that we cant fix. There are even plenty of things that we cant take the sting out of *coughmyutterlackofsexdrivecough* but we (I) can try harder to show up for him. I can dig deep and find a few more bits of energy to give to him.
Equity will look very different for a while still. I am trying hard to get my body back in good shape for work as much as for vanity and I am still pumping and nursing. It takes a lot of time and I am not sleeping so I am pretty wiped out but it is time to toughen up and adapt for the Huz. He needs his teammate back and I dont think it is too much to ask.
In the words of The Weepies "the world spins madly on". Ramona started crawling, summer is wrapping up and life is fuller than ever. I would not change this life for all the gold in the world. It is both harder and richer than I could have ever imagined or hoped. I can see the days pass and tiny grow bigger, stronger, more curious right before my very eyes. It is a wild and wonderful fog of wiggles and diapers and soft chubby limbs. At six months I can say I have never known this kind of love...now to get the rest of my life back together :)
Sunday, July 29, 2012
The things we do for love...
I went back to work last week. The Hubs was still away at our last festival event this summer. He was on the clock and making bank so we decided it was worth the stress and worry I faced returning to work without him around. At this point Starfish had barely started taking bottles. She would MAYBE drink an ounce. I was worried. My mother and sister-in-law were around and had lovingly agreed to watch tiny while I was at work. The day before I went back I popped out for a quick visit with a girlfriend, leaving tiny and MIL home alone for a test run. I was feeling pretty good until MIL called. I could hear tiny screaming bloody murder in the background. "I think you should come home" she said. I walked home quickly, already feeling the cold panic spreading through my stomach. "What is she going to do tomorrow?! What if tiny wont eat?! What if Nanna cant hack it and our childcare plan goes to total shit in the course of a single day?!?!". I was short of breath with panic by the time I went to bed that night. In the morning I got up and got ready before tiny awoke. I managed to squeeze a final snack in for her before I left the house and cried my whole way to work. Throughout the day I was blessed with sweet pictures and honest updates about tiny. My SIL told me of the meltdowns and sent pictures of the happy times. It helped to feel like I knew the truth about how her day was going. The next day there was less crying but it was still very hard to leave her. By the time I got home Hubbs was back and tiny was happily in his arms.
All in all the first week back was not as horrible as I had feared it would be. I hate leaving her. I hate hate hate it. I'm not getting nearly enough sleep yet but thats just the shape of my world right now. I will write next about pumping at work and how that is a special hell for lady-mommy-medics but its not so bad overall. When I get sad (usually on my way to work and again around hour 8) I remember why I am doing this. I think about how important it is to show Tiny what a successful, working woman looks like. I want to keep working to keep myself open to new opportunities (*cough*nursing and midwifery*cough*). I think most importantly right now I can give G and Tiny a chance to spend quality time together. They have the next month together. If I weren't going back he would have to pick up OT to make up the income. The burden would be all on him to make ends meet. If he were in a job where just the weekly paycheck covered us comfortably it would be a different conversation but right now its not the case. Equity in our relationship is just as important as equity in other areas like parenting. I want Tiny to know G just as closely as she knows me. I want him to feel as important and involved as I am and I want them to have as much physical time together as possible. All of those things are mine to give them but only if I go back to work. So I go. I go happily and with comfort and confidence in my purpose. Love is a wonderful motivator and an even better anesthetic when the pain of leaving catches up to me.
All in all the first week back was not as horrible as I had feared it would be. I hate leaving her. I hate hate hate it. I'm not getting nearly enough sleep yet but thats just the shape of my world right now. I will write next about pumping at work and how that is a special hell for lady-mommy-medics but its not so bad overall. When I get sad (usually on my way to work and again around hour 8) I remember why I am doing this. I think about how important it is to show Tiny what a successful, working woman looks like. I want to keep working to keep myself open to new opportunities (*cough*nursing and midwifery*cough*). I think most importantly right now I can give G and Tiny a chance to spend quality time together. They have the next month together. If I weren't going back he would have to pick up OT to make up the income. The burden would be all on him to make ends meet. If he were in a job where just the weekly paycheck covered us comfortably it would be a different conversation but right now its not the case. Equity in our relationship is just as important as equity in other areas like parenting. I want Tiny to know G just as closely as she knows me. I want him to feel as important and involved as I am and I want them to have as much physical time together as possible. All of those things are mine to give them but only if I go back to work. So I go. I go happily and with comfort and confidence in my purpose. Love is a wonderful motivator and an even better anesthetic when the pain of leaving catches up to me.
Friday, June 22, 2012
Four Months Old. Friends make all the difference
Ramona turned four months old this week. Holy shit! Where has the time gone? I feel like a second ago I was pregnant, half a second ago I was holding her on the couch contemplating just how long and hard the days were and how lonely and emotionally overwhelmed I was. Those first eight weeks were a fucking doozie my friend.
Now, I am really enjoying being Ramona's mom. Really REALLY relishing all this time we get to spend together. I like knowing her signals. I like our routine and that she knows I know what I am doing and she is relaxed and confidant. She struggles but she is a happy girl almost all of the time. Overstimulation is our number one cryptonite but honestly, she does what I want to do when I get overstimulated so it is hard to get very upset. In fact, 99% of the time, when she freaks out I feel bad for her. Sometimes it IS hard to be a baby. But most of the time, especially this last two weeks, being a baby is happy, full of smiles and coos and gurgles and fun. Even the rough nights are made beautiful with the smiles I get in the morning. Think hateful things if you must....I can take it....but really, we have a beautiful thing going and even when we dont I love her so damned much its cool. It really is.
All that said, this morning, after a huge week of travel, flying cross country twice, visit with Mimo hijacked by ten-bazillion family members wanting to visit and a less than awesome carseat, followed by arriving home in the middle of Hubs work week leaving me still on my own for chicken duty, and a scream fest with the lactation consultant two days ago, I went for a pedicure with a friend. I left R with daddy and split like a fugitive. It was fucking awesome! We got coffee, pedicures, chatted about nothing, hit Target to hilariously try on clothes and came home to a crying baby and a pretty chill husband considering. It was beautiful. I was so happy to see them. I was so proud of them. I felt recharged. My toes look adorable. I was ready to be mom again. I was gone 3hrs. I felt like I had slept for a week. This was just what I needed.
Earlier in the week I met my "new mom friend" for coffee and a walk on Alberta. It had been a very nonsleeping day for R and I was still jet-lagged as F! I needed to do anything to kill the hours between 4 and 7. Meeting J was perfect. We walked, had coffee, got pinwheels for the baby girls. We talked about babies, husbands, families, gay mons, life, TV... It was sooooo easy. Our girls are mere weeks apart. We have so much in common aside from the girls too. It is crazy! I never could have imagined we would be instant friends when we swapped numbers at the midwives picnic.
I also went to moms group this week with my neighbor buddy. I met a fee new moms, realized I am not new anymore as R is one of the older babies, heard a handful of other moms talk about going back to work and talked at length, with another mom who is a few months ahead of me but still experiencing some of the same sex and intimacy issues I am experiencing. I left feeling awesome. I dont have it all figured out but I am making some great friends who dont have it figured out either and that is awesome, comforting and reassuring. There isnt any negative talk or complaining but an openness and curiosity about it. Nobody is "suffering" or poor me-ing, just talking, exploring this new life and new identity. I must say I find it amazing.
So, in conclusion, month four is starting off awesome. I go back to work in a month (boo but yay), we go to fair in two weeks ( bust out cha tie dye!!) and I have some awesome new people in my life. I owe it all to this little girl. She upended my life and gave me a new one. Thank you sweet pea! Now, do mommy a favor and sleep in tomorrow ok?
Now, I am really enjoying being Ramona's mom. Really REALLY relishing all this time we get to spend together. I like knowing her signals. I like our routine and that she knows I know what I am doing and she is relaxed and confidant. She struggles but she is a happy girl almost all of the time. Overstimulation is our number one cryptonite but honestly, she does what I want to do when I get overstimulated so it is hard to get very upset. In fact, 99% of the time, when she freaks out I feel bad for her. Sometimes it IS hard to be a baby. But most of the time, especially this last two weeks, being a baby is happy, full of smiles and coos and gurgles and fun. Even the rough nights are made beautiful with the smiles I get in the morning. Think hateful things if you must....I can take it....but really, we have a beautiful thing going and even when we dont I love her so damned much its cool. It really is.
All that said, this morning, after a huge week of travel, flying cross country twice, visit with Mimo hijacked by ten-bazillion family members wanting to visit and a less than awesome carseat, followed by arriving home in the middle of Hubs work week leaving me still on my own for chicken duty, and a scream fest with the lactation consultant two days ago, I went for a pedicure with a friend. I left R with daddy and split like a fugitive. It was fucking awesome! We got coffee, pedicures, chatted about nothing, hit Target to hilariously try on clothes and came home to a crying baby and a pretty chill husband considering. It was beautiful. I was so happy to see them. I was so proud of them. I felt recharged. My toes look adorable. I was ready to be mom again. I was gone 3hrs. I felt like I had slept for a week. This was just what I needed.
Earlier in the week I met my "new mom friend" for coffee and a walk on Alberta. It had been a very nonsleeping day for R and I was still jet-lagged as F! I needed to do anything to kill the hours between 4 and 7. Meeting J was perfect. We walked, had coffee, got pinwheels for the baby girls. We talked about babies, husbands, families, gay mons, life, TV... It was sooooo easy. Our girls are mere weeks apart. We have so much in common aside from the girls too. It is crazy! I never could have imagined we would be instant friends when we swapped numbers at the midwives picnic.
I also went to moms group this week with my neighbor buddy. I met a fee new moms, realized I am not new anymore as R is one of the older babies, heard a handful of other moms talk about going back to work and talked at length, with another mom who is a few months ahead of me but still experiencing some of the same sex and intimacy issues I am experiencing. I left feeling awesome. I dont have it all figured out but I am making some great friends who dont have it figured out either and that is awesome, comforting and reassuring. There isnt any negative talk or complaining but an openness and curiosity about it. Nobody is "suffering" or poor me-ing, just talking, exploring this new life and new identity. I must say I find it amazing.
So, in conclusion, month four is starting off awesome. I go back to work in a month (boo but yay), we go to fair in two weeks ( bust out cha tie dye!!) and I have some awesome new people in my life. I owe it all to this little girl. She upended my life and gave me a new one. Thank you sweet pea! Now, do mommy a favor and sleep in tomorrow ok?
Friday, June 8, 2012
Wedding Bells
Some dear friends of ours are getting married this weekend. Hubs has known Iz since she was barely a teenager ten years ago through search and rescue. I have known K and Iz for almost as long as I have been with Hubs. They were just starting their now quite successful gardening business then. They have been through their share of struggles and have come to this awesome point. They love each other madly, they are starting to see real success in their business venture, they are surrounded by family and friends who also love them madly...Time to get hitched! The only bummer is that our nation still has its head too far up its ass to recognize their marriage as legal and binding the way mine and Hubs is recognized. Bullshit. But, for this weekend I will suspend my sadness and frustration over the lack of true equality for all Americans and I will put on my party hat and my dancing shoes. It is so important to celebrate the times like these. It is important to celebrate with my dear sweet friends as they start their "official" life together as wife and wife (or as Wife and Isabel). It is important because with every celebration we add another drop of not just tolerance but normal-ance to the water of the world. If we keep celebrating we keep increasing the number of people who know and love a couple who "got married" even though the government hasn't caught up yet. Before we know it everyone will have family, friends, co-workers who they love and respect who don't fit the puritanical definition of "marriage" as one man and one woman, and we will be forced to change the way the state and federal governments recognize the awesome and sacred union of marriage. Maybe people like Rush will no longer get to marry since they clearly don't respect the bond as much as the two women down my block who have been together for 25 years....just sayin' its not the gays who are threatening the sanctity of the union, its the Newts and the Rushs. Anyway, this weekend I will party like a rock star as we send these two awesome women into the next phase of their lives. They will awake on Monday morning to find that nothing much has changed, yet everything is different and it is wonderful. I will toast them and dance and pour love from my heart, and in the back of my mind I will hope that by the time my daughter is old enough to love someone enough to want to spend the rest of her life with them, she will be able to marry whoever she chooses and will have access to all the rights and responsibilities therein.
Tuesday, June 5, 2012
Life is so damn good I could sing!
There is SO much exciting stuff going on. I don't even know where to start. The class that I am working on with my dear friend B is starting to come together and starting to feel like a real project and not just the hormone sodden ramblings of a brand new mom who would rather fix someone else's life than look at her own baby blues. We have input from lots of fantastic families and are starting to expand our circle of input to include same sex and LGBTQ families. I am really excited about this 1. We live in Portland.... 2. Women's health education is important. We are doing such a shitty job of teaching our kids sex ed these days people are barely equipped with the real info on how that baby got into her belly in the first place. It is time to start offering education that addresses EVERYONE and that for us, includes all the shapes and incarnations of "family". So hooray for awesome families eager to share and help us help more awesome families.
Ramona and I are traveling to see my mom in Michigan next week. It will be her first real big trip and my first time flying with a baby. I am excited and anxious. It is a long flight but we can do it! We will get to see all of the women I refer to as "the aunties". They were aunties to me as a kid and a few of them treated me like the little girl they never had. I am excited to show off my tiny peanut.
My short term disability claim extension was approved after 6 weeks of no money coming in and 45thousand phone calls to sort out what BS they needed and what they already had. It was a gut rotting cluster but they approved it and I got a lot more time than I had ever anticipated and it is awesome. I can't think of anything better to do than be with Ramona. She will be nearly 5 months old by the time I go back to work. I feel so much better leaving a 5 month old than I did thinking about leaving a 2 month old.
I am making mom friends. This deserves a whole post of its own but I need to add it to the exciting things list. I really failed at forming a mom network. I stayed away from all of the mom groups and shunned the idea of meeting these women before the baby arrived. I thought I was too good for child birth ed classes and boy oh mother lovin' boy, was I foolishly FOOLISHLY wrong. It isn't about the class....its about the community you form. I have been spending time with my neighbor and she birthed at home but was part of a centering group at the birth center in town. She has this whole network of moms who saw each other every month through pregnancy. They still meet up now too. She took me to a Thursday morning mom's meet up at the birth center education space. It was soooo nice to just sit around in a room with a dozen other moms and babies all within a few months of one another. We all talked about whatever. Work, family, travel. Turns out we all see the same pediatrician. It was so nice to be in that group. Babies nursed and fussed and slept and pooped and we just went about it like it was no thing. It felt like coming home. We were all in the same place. We honored each other just by being present in that space together and it felt so good. I am actively trying to make more mom friends now including the awesome family next door who have a one year old. We have now gone to see Mr Ben, the children's musician who plays near by every Tuesday twice. It is so nice to talk as we walk over there and then sit in a room full of parents and kids from birth to 5 just all doing their thing to the sound of Mr Ben. Networking with other parents is key. I feel more confidant, less depressed, energized and not alone! It is a very good thing.
G and Ramona are bonding. I cannot begin to express how happy it makes me to hear him chatting away to her on the changing table or to see the two of them out in the garden. He is such a great Dad. Ramona really lucked out. As she blooms more and more into the outside world he falls deeper and deeper in love. It is enough to make me cry.
In short, life is good. Life is exciting and overwhelming and more beautiful than ever before. I think I had a bit of the baby blues there for a while. I was struggling to feel connected and honestly, the majority of my closest pre-baby friends seem to have abandoned ship for a while. I understand. I wasn't myself and I had some shit to sort out once my home birth I had been planning since I was ten became a hospital birth with an epidural and pitocin and a baby in the NICU...It was shitty and it conflicted with my personal view of myself. I had some figuring out to do. I also had some letting it the fuck go to do. I have my good days and bad days on that still. Anyway, getting paid, making friends, sunshine and my flippin' awesome kid all add up to BEST LIFE EVER.
Ramona and I are traveling to see my mom in Michigan next week. It will be her first real big trip and my first time flying with a baby. I am excited and anxious. It is a long flight but we can do it! We will get to see all of the women I refer to as "the aunties". They were aunties to me as a kid and a few of them treated me like the little girl they never had. I am excited to show off my tiny peanut.
My short term disability claim extension was approved after 6 weeks of no money coming in and 45thousand phone calls to sort out what BS they needed and what they already had. It was a gut rotting cluster but they approved it and I got a lot more time than I had ever anticipated and it is awesome. I can't think of anything better to do than be with Ramona. She will be nearly 5 months old by the time I go back to work. I feel so much better leaving a 5 month old than I did thinking about leaving a 2 month old.
I am making mom friends. This deserves a whole post of its own but I need to add it to the exciting things list. I really failed at forming a mom network. I stayed away from all of the mom groups and shunned the idea of meeting these women before the baby arrived. I thought I was too good for child birth ed classes and boy oh mother lovin' boy, was I foolishly FOOLISHLY wrong. It isn't about the class....its about the community you form. I have been spending time with my neighbor and she birthed at home but was part of a centering group at the birth center in town. She has this whole network of moms who saw each other every month through pregnancy. They still meet up now too. She took me to a Thursday morning mom's meet up at the birth center education space. It was soooo nice to just sit around in a room with a dozen other moms and babies all within a few months of one another. We all talked about whatever. Work, family, travel. Turns out we all see the same pediatrician. It was so nice to be in that group. Babies nursed and fussed and slept and pooped and we just went about it like it was no thing. It felt like coming home. We were all in the same place. We honored each other just by being present in that space together and it felt so good. I am actively trying to make more mom friends now including the awesome family next door who have a one year old. We have now gone to see Mr Ben, the children's musician who plays near by every Tuesday twice. It is so nice to talk as we walk over there and then sit in a room full of parents and kids from birth to 5 just all doing their thing to the sound of Mr Ben. Networking with other parents is key. I feel more confidant, less depressed, energized and not alone! It is a very good thing.
G and Ramona are bonding. I cannot begin to express how happy it makes me to hear him chatting away to her on the changing table or to see the two of them out in the garden. He is such a great Dad. Ramona really lucked out. As she blooms more and more into the outside world he falls deeper and deeper in love. It is enough to make me cry.
In short, life is good. Life is exciting and overwhelming and more beautiful than ever before. I think I had a bit of the baby blues there for a while. I was struggling to feel connected and honestly, the majority of my closest pre-baby friends seem to have abandoned ship for a while. I understand. I wasn't myself and I had some shit to sort out once my home birth I had been planning since I was ten became a hospital birth with an epidural and pitocin and a baby in the NICU...It was shitty and it conflicted with my personal view of myself. I had some figuring out to do. I also had some letting it the fuck go to do. I have my good days and bad days on that still. Anyway, getting paid, making friends, sunshine and my flippin' awesome kid all add up to BEST LIFE EVER.
Let's Do the Time Warp Again
Ramona is 3.5 months old. Holy SHIT! Pardon my French but where oh, where has the time gone? Wasn't it just a second ago that I was hugely pregnant? No, in fact, it was a year ago that I GOT pregnant. This has been the fastest year of my life.
I have been thinking about that. The way we are all able to "escape time" for a while in our twenties. We finish university and then we just sort of exist for a while. First 'real' jobs, traveling, Peace Corps, getting married, medical school, working at Starbucks, whatever....We may live in one place or a series of places with a rotating cast of characters. Time is flowing and nebulous for a while. Nobody is having growth spurts of changing very much in the physical sense. Time seems to flow but also to stand still. We are afforded the luxury of believing we will escape time and be young forever. Then someone has a baby and that happy little day dream honks twice, sticks its tongue out and disappears into the desert leaving a silhouette of dust a la road runner. You have a baby and you start living in weeks, not years anymore WEEKS! Do you have any idea how fast a week goes by? I am here to tell you it goes so fast you can't even make your eyes bring it into focus. You have to take a picture of it as it rushes on by so you can look at it and study it later because now it is moving too quickly for you to get a good look. That baby changes every day too. Now days, which once happily blurred together in your nebulous 20 something time soup, are significant units of measurement. You can see things evolve in a matter of days! The last time a few DAYS mattered was when you had a big assignment due in school. Since then, days might as well be months. Babies grow and change so quickly you are no longer able to escape to that magical place where none of us is aging. With a baby around you see that we are all aging and time is fucking flying by.
When we brought R home she was just a tiny tiny peanut girl. She was barely 8lbs and I was sure I was going to break her arms every time I changed her onsie. She slept nearly constantly, had a tiny raisin on her belly from where we had been connected for the last 9 months and she looked like she was being eaten alive by the cloth diapers.
I have been thinking about that. The way we are all able to "escape time" for a while in our twenties. We finish university and then we just sort of exist for a while. First 'real' jobs, traveling, Peace Corps, getting married, medical school, working at Starbucks, whatever....We may live in one place or a series of places with a rotating cast of characters. Time is flowing and nebulous for a while. Nobody is having growth spurts of changing very much in the physical sense. Time seems to flow but also to stand still. We are afforded the luxury of believing we will escape time and be young forever. Then someone has a baby and that happy little day dream honks twice, sticks its tongue out and disappears into the desert leaving a silhouette of dust a la road runner. You have a baby and you start living in weeks, not years anymore WEEKS! Do you have any idea how fast a week goes by? I am here to tell you it goes so fast you can't even make your eyes bring it into focus. You have to take a picture of it as it rushes on by so you can look at it and study it later because now it is moving too quickly for you to get a good look. That baby changes every day too. Now days, which once happily blurred together in your nebulous 20 something time soup, are significant units of measurement. You can see things evolve in a matter of days! The last time a few DAYS mattered was when you had a big assignment due in school. Since then, days might as well be months. Babies grow and change so quickly you are no longer able to escape to that magical place where none of us is aging. With a baby around you see that we are all aging and time is fucking flying by.
When we brought R home she was just a tiny tiny peanut girl. She was barely 8lbs and I was sure I was going to break her arms every time I changed her onsie. She slept nearly constantly, had a tiny raisin on her belly from where we had been connected for the last 9 months and she looked like she was being eaten alive by the cloth diapers.
Today, she is 15 weeks old. She would rather stand up and look around than just about anything else. She has a very distinct sense of what is funny and what is crap. She is growing out of clothes left, right and center. She knows who her mom and dad are as well as her aunty. She is starting to be more comfortable with a handful of other people too. She sleeps well, eats well and really likes live music. She smiles and even the crankiest soul would have to smile. She is charming as hell! I have been her mom (officially) for 105 days.
I never imagined I would take so much time off of work when she arrived but it has been the best thing I have ever ever EVER done. There is so much to do with her. She has so much to teach me and we had some hurdles to clear after the way she came into the world. I am so glad I have had this time with her. Being with her every day has taught me her signals and has taught her to trust in me. Now, as she has learned to trust me, she is learning to trust other people and to be comfortable being passed about as long as she can come back to me at the end of the day. This is the time that you can't ever get back. I suppose it all is but this time is OUR time. We live in a tiny little world full of smiles and drool, walks in the sunshine and adventures out and about. She and I are having a lot of fun getting to know each other and I wouldn't be anywhere else for anything in the world. It has been the blink of an eye, the last 105 days. At first I panicked when I thought about going back. I still do a little but it gets better every week. I am so thankful to have so much time with her now. I know it will be just another blink of an eye before she no longer wants to sleep next to me and she is telling me that I "just don't understand". But for now, I will snuggle her next to me, take a long, deep sniff of her head and thank the universe for this gift of my tiny peanut girl and the time and space to show her that I am 100%, unequivocally, hers.
3 month on the outside
So there it is....My mom belly at 3 months. It is squishy and wiggly and multicolored. Why on earth would I post this on the internet? Because someone has to. Confused? Let me explain. I have battled my weight my entire life. I have dieted, exercised, starved, binged, given up...you name it. I have likely tried it. The fact of the matter is I like to be happy and often times food, cooking it, sharing it, tasting it, makes me happy. I am someone who loves cheese and chocolate and beer and carbohydrates. I like bad for me things. I like veggies and fruit a lot too but I don't think I have ever said no to a cheese cube. Now that I am Ramona's mother, the mother of a little girl, I feel a sense of responsibility to get my shit together. I have changed a lot of my eating habits. I wept once while driving home from a trip to Eugene because I was so tired I stopped at a McDonald's and had a hamburger and fries for dinner. "I just ate crappy McDonald's food and now I am going to make her crappy McDonald's milk! Waaaahhhh!" I feel an almost overwhelming sense of responsibility to eat a lot of greens and a lot of fruit now that I am breast feeding. I want her to have only the best milk and that means I have to eat good stuff to make it.
I talk to my lady friends and we ALL have body issues. One hates her shape and another hates her skin. One wishes for bigger breasts and smaller thighs while the other, smaller breasts and less of a tummy. I know moms who have stopped breast feeding so they could "hurry up and reach their goal weight". Ladies! Ladies! Stop the insanity!
This picture is a real woman. It is a real belly where a real baby grew. That baby is healthy and smart and happy. That mom is utterly, stupidly in love with that baby and would do anything for that little soul. So, instead of doing "anything" I am going to do something very specific. I am going to end the cycle of passing along the body bashing. I am not going to raise my daughter to hate her body and to pick herself apart in the mirror. I am going to raise her to run and swim and play. I am going to encourage her to eat the good things that make our bodies feel good and move well. I am going to let her dress herself in clothes that make her feel happy and confidant. I am going to tell her how much I love her and how awesome I think she is. I am going to let her grow wild and strong and free. I am going to lead by example. I am going to eat the good things and run and swim and play. I am going to treat my body as a gift and talk about it like it is a dear friend whom I cherish. I am going to dress myself in clothes that make me feel beautiful and happy and free. I am going to love this body entirely. I am going to worship the body that gave me that little soul. I am going to embrace the gift of her clean innocence and start fresh myself. I am not going to hide out in the shadows any longer. I refuse to hate myself for the squishy bits and the stretch marks. My LIFE has given me this body. Your life has given you yours. Having the chance to live and a body in which to live is a gift. Lets treat it accordingly shall we? So here it is. This is my belly three months out. I am not a model or an actress or some airbrushed belly on the cover of a magazine bursting with promises of 5 minute abs or how to shed the baby weight. I am working on making my whole body stronger and fitter and faster. If I become smaller and more toned that is great. That is one more way to feel beautiful and strong. But I am no longer focused on "getting my body back". My old body is gone. I am now looking forward to joyfully welcoming my "new body" to this life I am living. I welcome it like a dear friend. I will offer it green things and fresh water and love it no matter what. I will show my daughter what it looks like to be unashamed of the body you live in. I will teach her how it feels to be at home in her skin.
Saturday, May 12, 2012
Mother's Day
Tomorrow is Mother's Day. This is my first year as a mother. I know the weather is supposed to be HOT and beautiful and we are having friends over tomorrow night for a medical skills refresher prior to some festival volunteering in a month. I don't know if G has anything special planned. I would be a HUGE liar if I said I didn't hope for at least a card but I really don't need anything special. I want time with G and R. I want some time together as a family.
Today, R slept in (after a nursing strike last night and LOTS of crying I am not surprised she needed a little extra sleep) this morning. I woke up to nurse her before going to Zumba and when we were done I snuggled her in next to G. I hoped she would let me get out the door before waking up and demanding his full attention as I knew he didn't get a lot of sleep and his pitiful sleepy face is too much for me to resist and I would have stayed home. She cuddled back up with him and napped a bit longer. I came home to the two of them happily wandering about the front yard gardens smiling and drooling. I got cleaned up and took R to meet up with some girlfriends at the St John's street fair. R passed out in the Ergo and slept for the next 3 hours. Growth spurt anyone? We hit the store after the fair and got things for dinner and lunch quinoa quiches for next week. We spent some quality sofa time with G before he had to leave for work and then Amy came over.
Amy is G's sister and my personal life raft. During the first two weeks of R's life I didn't want anyone around. I was still recovering from my plan B birth and the hormones made me think that I didn't want anyone other than mom and G to hold R. I have written about that time...it was not pretty. Anyway, I didn't want anyone else around. I knew Amy and I had talked about her being our house helper after the baby arrived but I was regretting that and wishing for plywood to board up the door against ANYONE coming over. My Mom had my number though and invited Amy over almost every night for chores and dinner. She would do some house stuff like laundry, vacuum, change our sheets and then she would stay for dinner, hold R for a little bit while I tried not to cry at the dinner table and then she headed home. Lather, rinse, repeat nearly every day for the first 2 weeks. It only recently dawned on me that my mom knew exactly how I felt then and did it anyway because she knew how it would manifest later. Last week in the midst of sleep regression hell and G's work week I was having a particularly down day. I felt honest to goodness depressed and was so sad and scared about everything big and small. When G left for work I noted how crappy I felt and how I had tried to nap about 10 times that day with no success. I noticed my feelings and told myself that if I still felt this way in 3 days I was going to call the midwives because this was not 'me'. When Amy came over after work I asked if she had time to stay so I could go to an exercise class. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go but as she picked up R and they started singing and cooing and dancing around happily I started to feel better. I felt like I could go and know unequivocally, that she would be in loving hands and even if she screamed the entire 90min I was away, she was screaming in the arms of someone who loved her and someone who had been around her from the very day she was born. Amy was my savior. Class was fun. I came home full of endorphins, dripping sweat and happy to see my baby girl. Those 90 min were all I needed to refresh my perspective and get back in the game. I was eternally grateful for Amy that night and continue to be every day as I watch her bond with R grow. This is what family is all about. I have my mother to thank for that.
Today, R slept in (after a nursing strike last night and LOTS of crying I am not surprised she needed a little extra sleep) this morning. I woke up to nurse her before going to Zumba and when we were done I snuggled her in next to G. I hoped she would let me get out the door before waking up and demanding his full attention as I knew he didn't get a lot of sleep and his pitiful sleepy face is too much for me to resist and I would have stayed home. She cuddled back up with him and napped a bit longer. I came home to the two of them happily wandering about the front yard gardens smiling and drooling. I got cleaned up and took R to meet up with some girlfriends at the St John's street fair. R passed out in the Ergo and slept for the next 3 hours. Growth spurt anyone? We hit the store after the fair and got things for dinner and lunch quinoa quiches for next week. We spent some quality sofa time with G before he had to leave for work and then Amy came over.
Amy is G's sister and my personal life raft. During the first two weeks of R's life I didn't want anyone around. I was still recovering from my plan B birth and the hormones made me think that I didn't want anyone other than mom and G to hold R. I have written about that time...it was not pretty. Anyway, I didn't want anyone else around. I knew Amy and I had talked about her being our house helper after the baby arrived but I was regretting that and wishing for plywood to board up the door against ANYONE coming over. My Mom had my number though and invited Amy over almost every night for chores and dinner. She would do some house stuff like laundry, vacuum, change our sheets and then she would stay for dinner, hold R for a little bit while I tried not to cry at the dinner table and then she headed home. Lather, rinse, repeat nearly every day for the first 2 weeks. It only recently dawned on me that my mom knew exactly how I felt then and did it anyway because she knew how it would manifest later. Last week in the midst of sleep regression hell and G's work week I was having a particularly down day. I felt honest to goodness depressed and was so sad and scared about everything big and small. When G left for work I noted how crappy I felt and how I had tried to nap about 10 times that day with no success. I noticed my feelings and told myself that if I still felt this way in 3 days I was going to call the midwives because this was not 'me'. When Amy came over after work I asked if she had time to stay so I could go to an exercise class. I wasn't even sure I wanted to go but as she picked up R and they started singing and cooing and dancing around happily I started to feel better. I felt like I could go and know unequivocally, that she would be in loving hands and even if she screamed the entire 90min I was away, she was screaming in the arms of someone who loved her and someone who had been around her from the very day she was born. Amy was my savior. Class was fun. I came home full of endorphins, dripping sweat and happy to see my baby girl. Those 90 min were all I needed to refresh my perspective and get back in the game. I was eternally grateful for Amy that night and continue to be every day as I watch her bond with R grow. This is what family is all about. I have my mother to thank for that.
Sleep Regression
My mother recently accepted a new job in a different state with a fantastic salary, great opportunities to use her invaluable skills and help bring midwifery to a very worthy population and a signing bonus. My mom has been struggling to make it as a realtor and a home health nurse in Maine's failing economy for a while. She has not been struggling to make ends meet but at nearly 60, she deserved more than the shit can real estate market had for her and MUCH MUCH more than the whack-a-doodles at the visiting nurse gig were offering anyone. My mom is an amazing midwife and she and my dad built several brilliant practices in the hay day of her career. This new practice is very lucky to have her. They should have given her TWO signing bonuses. Anyway, she accepted the job and promptly booked a flight out to see us. It was a quick trip. Just 4 days here and 2 days travel time but it was SO nice. I was 2.5 weeks postpartum when she left and I was so devastated to see her go. I was a big soggy hormonal mess. I was so looking forward to showing her how competent and capable a mother I am. The 2 weeks leading up to her visit I felt Ramona had really started to blossom as a little curious person. She was so much more interactive and she didn't seem to spend nearly as much time pissed off and frustrated. She was a lot of fun actually.
I had a realization about 4 days before mom was due to arrive. Your baby is not like a dog. The pediatrician's office is not going to send you a little reminder note to tell you to schedule your well baby visits or vaccinations....this is what we call YOUR RESPONSIBILITY as a PARENT. YOU ARE THE ADULT. Yeah, R was 11 weeks old on the nose, the day I scheduled her 8 week well baby visit. I know this doesn't seem like much lag time but it is indicative of just how terrible a mother I am. I had thought about it weeks earlier in the middle of the night but I honestly, rolled over, falling back to sleep thinking, "someone will tell me when it is time to take her for shots". Uh NO Anna. That is your job. Not some office manager with a stack of "forget me not" cards and a pile of stamps. You have the baby. You keep the baby safe. I swear to god, I would probably forget to change her diapers if she didn't hate being wet so much and squawk at the slightest dampness. GAHHH! I NEED AN ADULT!
So, yes, the day I scheduled it I had been hoping to wait until mom was here so we could go together and she could hold R while she got her pokes and then I could be the rescuer and nurse and soothe and make it all better. Well, that may be great on Lifetime Movie Network but here in the real world, my pediatrician is slammin' busy and had one slot left before June...ya know, June...the month when R should be getting her 4 month shots. The slot was first thing in the morning. The day mom arrived. I sucked it up and took R to the appointment. My doc and I talked about alternative vax schedules as agreed on which ones we felt were vital for her to have now and which ones we would rather wait on. I felt so calm and responsible. Then the nurses came in and BAM! R got two shots, one in each thigh. The volume was NOTHING compared to how much she had for the antibiotics at the hospital at birth but Uggh! She cried her wounded, hurt feelings cry. The one that literally instigates letdown EVERY time I hear it. I tried to nurse but she was too upset to nurse much. Sad sad girl. I popped her in the ergo and we went for a walk. I spent the whole time telling her how she is a big strong girl and I want her to stay healthy and strong and so that is why we have to get shots. I tried to explain to her that I was sorry they hurt but they were to keep her healthy and safe and she wasn't going to need any more for a few months. This may seem like hippie hogwash but the more I watch her and the more I process our course at the hospital, the more I believe she deserves explanations before sucky things happen and afterwards. Her brain understands WAY more than I know.
My mom arrived that night and everyone slept pretty well. The next day R wanted to be held all day and to nurse all day. I figured she may have a cranky day or two. I know I always feel like shit after shots. The flu shot takes me down for 2 days every time. I bought some baby Tylenol and was ready to snuggle her up and make her feel better. I thought it would be harder on her than it would be for me.....I was mostly wrong. The next 4 days were a blurr of tears, screaming, fitfull sleep, no sleep, crying in the dark and nursing every hour through the night. It was hell. I am not one to complain. I love my daughter more than I know what to do with. I would lay down in traffic for that kid but holy shit. She was upset for 5 days. I don't think I experienced a REM cycle for the first 3. I started to crack around day 4. G and mom finally took over. They scooped up R and sent me back to bed. I was sobbing. It felt like week 3 all over again. I was so distressed. I felt like a switch had flipped and I no longer knew this tiny crying lump in my arms. Whoever she was, she hated me. That much was pretty clear. It was SO hard. I just tried to keep it together. I told her I was sorry she was sad and that I love her very much and then I held her and rocked her as she cried. It was all I could do. Just about day 8, when I was sure I had descended into the 8th circle of hell things shifted. She slept for about 2 hours at a stretch that night and I thought I could conquer the world. My sister in law came over and I could see through my depression/sleepless fog that I needed to go to Zumba. I handed the baby over and went to class. I came back happy to see my daughter and full of endorphins. The next night, I went for a run. My first run since 24 weeks or whenever I ran that 13 miles with Amy and nearly shattered my pelvis. Ramona continued to stretch her sleep back towards normal. Last night she slept for 3hrs in between nursings. I feel human again.
The point of this whole story is how fragile my sanity/happiness/confidence is these days. Lack of sleep is my kryptonite. Even three hours of sleep is enough to leave me feeling human. 90 minute cycles....not so much. I tried to nap with her on these super rough days but it seemed like she would fall asleep and just as I would hit deep sleep she would wake up and need a change or to be repositioned. I felt like I had committed a crime in a country with very lax human rights laws...it was SO hard. I find that I don't get angry with HER when this sort of stuff unravels. I get frustrated with myself for not knowing how to fix it. I don't get angry, I get desperate. I get "Tell me what to do and i will harvest my own kidney and sell it on Ebay. Just make it STOP!" I have never experienced the frantic feeling of parental panic before. In all my years as a nanny I never felt so viscerally triggered. Makes sense, I know. It is just so interesting to me.
So, here we are, rounding the corner to week 12. She had a 6hr hunger strike last night and I thought my breasts were going to burst but otherwise, we seem to have returned to our normal charming selves. She is growing and learning to use her body. She likes to have "alone time" in her bed or her chair where she plays with her spider or stares at the mobile for 30-45min happily. She is becoming more and more interactive day by day and I just love being here for it. I know that this was only the first of many MANY hurdles we will clear together but I am glad we made it through in one piece.
I had a realization about 4 days before mom was due to arrive. Your baby is not like a dog. The pediatrician's office is not going to send you a little reminder note to tell you to schedule your well baby visits or vaccinations....this is what we call YOUR RESPONSIBILITY as a PARENT. YOU ARE THE ADULT. Yeah, R was 11 weeks old on the nose, the day I scheduled her 8 week well baby visit. I know this doesn't seem like much lag time but it is indicative of just how terrible a mother I am. I had thought about it weeks earlier in the middle of the night but I honestly, rolled over, falling back to sleep thinking, "someone will tell me when it is time to take her for shots". Uh NO Anna. That is your job. Not some office manager with a stack of "forget me not" cards and a pile of stamps. You have the baby. You keep the baby safe. I swear to god, I would probably forget to change her diapers if she didn't hate being wet so much and squawk at the slightest dampness. GAHHH! I NEED AN ADULT!
So, yes, the day I scheduled it I had been hoping to wait until mom was here so we could go together and she could hold R while she got her pokes and then I could be the rescuer and nurse and soothe and make it all better. Well, that may be great on Lifetime Movie Network but here in the real world, my pediatrician is slammin' busy and had one slot left before June...ya know, June...the month when R should be getting her 4 month shots. The slot was first thing in the morning. The day mom arrived. I sucked it up and took R to the appointment. My doc and I talked about alternative vax schedules as agreed on which ones we felt were vital for her to have now and which ones we would rather wait on. I felt so calm and responsible. Then the nurses came in and BAM! R got two shots, one in each thigh. The volume was NOTHING compared to how much she had for the antibiotics at the hospital at birth but Uggh! She cried her wounded, hurt feelings cry. The one that literally instigates letdown EVERY time I hear it. I tried to nurse but she was too upset to nurse much. Sad sad girl. I popped her in the ergo and we went for a walk. I spent the whole time telling her how she is a big strong girl and I want her to stay healthy and strong and so that is why we have to get shots. I tried to explain to her that I was sorry they hurt but they were to keep her healthy and safe and she wasn't going to need any more for a few months. This may seem like hippie hogwash but the more I watch her and the more I process our course at the hospital, the more I believe she deserves explanations before sucky things happen and afterwards. Her brain understands WAY more than I know.
My mom arrived that night and everyone slept pretty well. The next day R wanted to be held all day and to nurse all day. I figured she may have a cranky day or two. I know I always feel like shit after shots. The flu shot takes me down for 2 days every time. I bought some baby Tylenol and was ready to snuggle her up and make her feel better. I thought it would be harder on her than it would be for me.....I was mostly wrong. The next 4 days were a blurr of tears, screaming, fitfull sleep, no sleep, crying in the dark and nursing every hour through the night. It was hell. I am not one to complain. I love my daughter more than I know what to do with. I would lay down in traffic for that kid but holy shit. She was upset for 5 days. I don't think I experienced a REM cycle for the first 3. I started to crack around day 4. G and mom finally took over. They scooped up R and sent me back to bed. I was sobbing. It felt like week 3 all over again. I was so distressed. I felt like a switch had flipped and I no longer knew this tiny crying lump in my arms. Whoever she was, she hated me. That much was pretty clear. It was SO hard. I just tried to keep it together. I told her I was sorry she was sad and that I love her very much and then I held her and rocked her as she cried. It was all I could do. Just about day 8, when I was sure I had descended into the 8th circle of hell things shifted. She slept for about 2 hours at a stretch that night and I thought I could conquer the world. My sister in law came over and I could see through my depression/sleepless fog that I needed to go to Zumba. I handed the baby over and went to class. I came back happy to see my daughter and full of endorphins. The next night, I went for a run. My first run since 24 weeks or whenever I ran that 13 miles with Amy and nearly shattered my pelvis. Ramona continued to stretch her sleep back towards normal. Last night she slept for 3hrs in between nursings. I feel human again.
The point of this whole story is how fragile my sanity/happiness/confidence is these days. Lack of sleep is my kryptonite. Even three hours of sleep is enough to leave me feeling human. 90 minute cycles....not so much. I tried to nap with her on these super rough days but it seemed like she would fall asleep and just as I would hit deep sleep she would wake up and need a change or to be repositioned. I felt like I had committed a crime in a country with very lax human rights laws...it was SO hard. I find that I don't get angry with HER when this sort of stuff unravels. I get frustrated with myself for not knowing how to fix it. I don't get angry, I get desperate. I get "Tell me what to do and i will harvest my own kidney and sell it on Ebay. Just make it STOP!" I have never experienced the frantic feeling of parental panic before. In all my years as a nanny I never felt so viscerally triggered. Makes sense, I know. It is just so interesting to me.
So, here we are, rounding the corner to week 12. She had a 6hr hunger strike last night and I thought my breasts were going to burst but otherwise, we seem to have returned to our normal charming selves. She is growing and learning to use her body. She likes to have "alone time" in her bed or her chair where she plays with her spider or stares at the mobile for 30-45min happily. She is becoming more and more interactive day by day and I just love being here for it. I know that this was only the first of many MANY hurdles we will clear together but I am glad we made it through in one piece.
Friday, May 11, 2012
Hunger Games ** Warning! Lady Bits Post**
I have to start with the disclaimer that I have not read the books or see the movie. I figure I will wait out the craze and get to the books eventually and probably see the movie about the time Ramona is leaving for university. No, this is a different kind of hunger games....
I went to the midwife this week and had an IUD placed. I opted for the copper one without the side of crazy making hormones. It sucked going in but not because the insertion was bad, because speculums suck in still healing vaginas and the one Linda used was big and cold and sucky. She used numbing gel on my cervix so that didn't hurt at all. It is really just the very odd sensation of tugging and shuffling around down there that is straight up disconcerting. I have heard friends say similar things about Cesarean birth. There is something very "Gack" about feeling outside forces move around visceral tissues or tissues that you have never seen face to cervix(?) and you are unaccustomed to having moved around in such a way. Anyway, we had a good appointment. The IUD went in without any trouble and I didn't pass out or vomit this time. Linda asked how everything else was going and we said "great! Sleep regression and total lack of sex drive were just what we were hoping for and dreaming of when we pictured parenthood". She smiled and nodded knowingly and said "Ahh yes. This is very common. 50%-70% of women experience a significant lack of interest. There is the hormonal aspect but there is also the fact that you have a baby on you almost all of the time. You don't have the same "skin hunger". You aren't longing for physical touch the way we do when we exist more in our own bodies. Right now your body is not your own and sometimes you just want to NOT be touched. Its all very normal. Sex WILL come back into your lives. Rest assured." Reason #986 why I fucking love that woman. She stands there in the office doorway nearly six-feet tall in an awkward 1980's pastel tunic top and a blazer with shoulder pads that are entirely superfluous for her solid build and she quotes statistics and studies and she makes me feel like I am smart, important and most importantly of all, NORMAL. She is not a flowery person but she has a way of comforting you that feels deeper than squishy words. It is like her belief in women and in nature and science is so strong it is contagious. So yeah, long story endless, I love her. I am happy to have my IUD in place and hearing her say that actually made me feel a little spark of romance for G. Normal is sexy :) I may not have the skin hunger that once drove me to want to snuggle and cuddle him for hours on end but I have a hunger to feel that way about him and that seems to be a very good place to start.
I went to the midwife this week and had an IUD placed. I opted for the copper one without the side of crazy making hormones. It sucked going in but not because the insertion was bad, because speculums suck in still healing vaginas and the one Linda used was big and cold and sucky. She used numbing gel on my cervix so that didn't hurt at all. It is really just the very odd sensation of tugging and shuffling around down there that is straight up disconcerting. I have heard friends say similar things about Cesarean birth. There is something very "Gack" about feeling outside forces move around visceral tissues or tissues that you have never seen face to cervix(?) and you are unaccustomed to having moved around in such a way. Anyway, we had a good appointment. The IUD went in without any trouble and I didn't pass out or vomit this time. Linda asked how everything else was going and we said "great! Sleep regression and total lack of sex drive were just what we were hoping for and dreaming of when we pictured parenthood". She smiled and nodded knowingly and said "Ahh yes. This is very common. 50%-70% of women experience a significant lack of interest. There is the hormonal aspect but there is also the fact that you have a baby on you almost all of the time. You don't have the same "skin hunger". You aren't longing for physical touch the way we do when we exist more in our own bodies. Right now your body is not your own and sometimes you just want to NOT be touched. Its all very normal. Sex WILL come back into your lives. Rest assured." Reason #986 why I fucking love that woman. She stands there in the office doorway nearly six-feet tall in an awkward 1980's pastel tunic top and a blazer with shoulder pads that are entirely superfluous for her solid build and she quotes statistics and studies and she makes me feel like I am smart, important and most importantly of all, NORMAL. She is not a flowery person but she has a way of comforting you that feels deeper than squishy words. It is like her belief in women and in nature and science is so strong it is contagious. So yeah, long story endless, I love her. I am happy to have my IUD in place and hearing her say that actually made me feel a little spark of romance for G. Normal is sexy :) I may not have the skin hunger that once drove me to want to snuggle and cuddle him for hours on end but I have a hunger to feel that way about him and that seems to be a very good place to start.
Monday, April 30, 2012
9 weeks out
Life is moving along at a fast and faster pace every day. I can hardly believe that it has been nearly 10 weeks since Ramona was born. I remember feeling like I didn't remember how 'not pregnant' felt. Now I am having a harder and harder time remembering how it was to be pregnant. I don't feel "the same"as before. In fact, I feel vastly different. My tolerance for bullshit is about 1/99th what it was before baby. My tolerance for no sleep and other demands for my time and attention are infinitely greater (as long as it is due to Ramona). My appetite is very different. I crave veggies and get hang overs from refined sugar now. My body is very different. I am squishy in places you would never wish for squish and lean in other places. I am working on getting strong again and hoping strong translates somewhat into a shape I like. The biggest bummer is that my sex drive is crap. If this is too much info stop reading. I have more to say about this topic and I think it is important so if hearing about my sex drive squicks you out this is your cue.
I have always been someone for whom sex was fun and not particularly difficult. Even when I was stressed out, I could wrap my head around it and end up really glad I had joined the fun. These days it is just about the last thing on earth I am interested it. I thought that even though it was not on my mental radar, once I got going it would be like riding a bike (Hahaha) and I would have no trouble. WRONG! I can't really get into it. Sort of no matter what. I try but it is sort of like someone has rewired the switch and now the light doesn't go on....at all. This sucks. For starters I had a few stitches in my bottom so I was in pain for a while and then we were waiting for them to heal all the way. Once that happened I was confidant that it would be all systems go. Not so much. At 9 weeks out I still have the feeling of an achy bottom if I hike or walk to far/long or over do it at Zumba. I have tried reacquainting with myself too and the whole thing feels about as "sexy" as brushing my teeth. I am not exhausted though I am tired, but I climb in bed and honest to god, if G tries to make it sexy times I mostly wonder why we aren't sleeping if we are in bed and the baby is asleep. It is so friggin' lame I know. I feel like all of my usual "sexy" spots are messed up. Nipples are sore or 'armed' these days and my bottom is just not returning my phone calls. It is such a drag. I feel like reconnecting with your partner after the baby comes is important. G is a very sweet and loving partner and has and continues to be very very patient with me while I try to catch back up to myself in some form. I just feel like I can't "do" sex these days. I don't really want to and it doesn't work when I AM interested. I intend to keep trying and I know that once I am done breast feeding things will return to a more hormonal normal place but that's another 12 months away... am I doomed to this asexual life in the mean time? I don't want to sound like a total 50's housewife but I intend to try and to show up for sex even if G is the only one who really gets anything out of it because I think it is important to our relationship and I want to bet on the chance that one of these times, at some point, I will feel something more than just warm and fuzzy from snuggling, but god dammit if I don't miss wanting it and enjoying it. It is hard to feel like I want to be intimate with my husband when all I want to do is snuggle and sleep with my baby. I know it is nature's way of bonding me with the baby to ensure her survival as well as prevent another pregnancy right away but it feels a little cruel to my partner.
There is so much to write. Work, my body, Ramona, my relationship with G, my relationship with my mom, my drive to become a midwife, my desire to have another baby (in a few years), my desire and the steps already being taken to become a childbirth educator and post-partum doula....so much to write. I have to try a little harder to keep up. Look for a few more posts in the next week.
I have always been someone for whom sex was fun and not particularly difficult. Even when I was stressed out, I could wrap my head around it and end up really glad I had joined the fun. These days it is just about the last thing on earth I am interested it. I thought that even though it was not on my mental radar, once I got going it would be like riding a bike (Hahaha) and I would have no trouble. WRONG! I can't really get into it. Sort of no matter what. I try but it is sort of like someone has rewired the switch and now the light doesn't go on....at all. This sucks. For starters I had a few stitches in my bottom so I was in pain for a while and then we were waiting for them to heal all the way. Once that happened I was confidant that it would be all systems go. Not so much. At 9 weeks out I still have the feeling of an achy bottom if I hike or walk to far/long or over do it at Zumba. I have tried reacquainting with myself too and the whole thing feels about as "sexy" as brushing my teeth. I am not exhausted though I am tired, but I climb in bed and honest to god, if G tries to make it sexy times I mostly wonder why we aren't sleeping if we are in bed and the baby is asleep. It is so friggin' lame I know. I feel like all of my usual "sexy" spots are messed up. Nipples are sore or 'armed' these days and my bottom is just not returning my phone calls. It is such a drag. I feel like reconnecting with your partner after the baby comes is important. G is a very sweet and loving partner and has and continues to be very very patient with me while I try to catch back up to myself in some form. I just feel like I can't "do" sex these days. I don't really want to and it doesn't work when I AM interested. I intend to keep trying and I know that once I am done breast feeding things will return to a more hormonal normal place but that's another 12 months away... am I doomed to this asexual life in the mean time? I don't want to sound like a total 50's housewife but I intend to try and to show up for sex even if G is the only one who really gets anything out of it because I think it is important to our relationship and I want to bet on the chance that one of these times, at some point, I will feel something more than just warm and fuzzy from snuggling, but god dammit if I don't miss wanting it and enjoying it. It is hard to feel like I want to be intimate with my husband when all I want to do is snuggle and sleep with my baby. I know it is nature's way of bonding me with the baby to ensure her survival as well as prevent another pregnancy right away but it feels a little cruel to my partner.
There is so much to write. Work, my body, Ramona, my relationship with G, my relationship with my mom, my drive to become a midwife, my desire to have another baby (in a few years), my desire and the steps already being taken to become a childbirth educator and post-partum doula....so much to write. I have to try a little harder to keep up. Look for a few more posts in the next week.
Monday, April 9, 2012
Ch-Cha-Cha-Changes....
I knew a lot of things would change with the birth of the baby. I thought I knew what the changes would be. I knew my body wouldn't be the same. I was pretty sure I would have flabby skin and stretch marks. I knew I would have a broken bottom for a little while. I figured I would be emotional. I was afraid of how tired I would be. I could laugh at myself right now. I was a total idiot. The things I thought I knew were wrong or profoundly different than I pictured.
I get tired so easily. A "big day" is a 45min walk with the dogs and R, a trip to the store, cooking dinner and prepping breakfast for the next day, cleaning up, feeding myself, maybe showering? I am trying to get my head around the idea of exercising again but honestly....wuh, it makes me feel like napping just thinking about it. On the flip side, I am never as tired as I thought I would be. Sure, I feel like someone has been storing their wool sweaters and blankets under my eyelids all night most mornings. I am prone to attempting to bribe my 7 week old daughter with anything from breast milk to cash if she will just sleep for another hour. But, I remember being dead bone tired durng my pregnancy and I was terrified that it would be even worse with a new baby. It sort of is, but I don't really mind like before. I live for cups of coffee and baby smiles. I am energized by her being calm and alert while we are out for a walk, or by picking up the kitchen. The amount of actual sleep I require seems to have shifted significantly. I may get 9 hours in bed but I only get about 6hrs of sleep and that is often in 2-3hr chunks. So, yeah, I was so afraid of being exhausted and it turns out it hasn't killed me. It hasn't even really been all that hard to get over. She is better than sleep and that is pretty much all I need.
My body is a mess. I am down 42lbs since the day she was born and that is FUCKING AWESOME! Pardon my French but Hallelujah! I was sure I would be stuck with baby weight for EVER! Here, the real problem is the loose skin. Seriously, this is a drag. The stretch marks don't bother me nearly as much as the flabby apron of skin I have down below the belt. It is awful. I have no idea how I am going to address it. It actually seems to be worse with every pound I lose. Gross. Also, my ass has left the building. This is going to sound super insane and maybe even racist? I had a great ass. It was big and midwestern and black men loved it. Seriously, white guys never seemed to comment on my ass the way middle aged black men did. Well, I think those days have passed because my butt has made like old people and headed south. I don't even understand why! What does my ass have to do with pregnancy? Oh well. Could be worse huh? The back fat...that's where the real bummer is. I am not wearing real bras these days. I am living in nursing tank tops and I am here to tell you they are fucking awesome. I am going to have to do my "pregnancy and postpartum gear review" soon. I know all the good stuff for pregnant ladies.
My broken butt is another thing. I only pushed for 29min. I pushed like both of our lives depended on it though and thanks to the student (grrrr) I tore. I didn't tear very badly but I needed stitches and she did a crap job with that too. I still have pain in my vulva. I often feel swollen and throbbing and achy like I have a headache in my crotch at the end of the day. Just about every day. It sucks. As if the hormones weren't bad enough libido killers, the feeling of painful butt really ties the room together. I didn't expect to still feel uncomfortable 7 weeks out. ** Let me just say that my discomfort is a 3-4 out of 10 on a pain scale. I take ibuprofen for it every few days when I really feel achy but it is not excruciating. I don't want to scare you. I just want to whine.** It does have me a little spooked about sex though. I just don't feel "good" down there in lady land. It is hard to want to have anyone over ya know?
Enough about my lady bits, lets talk about relationships. I feel pretty freakin' alone these days. I don't really feel like I am the same person I was before I had R and I am not sorry about being different. I feel like my closest friends don't quite know what to make of me now. I am part, boring only talks about R and part cautionary tale. I leak and don't sleep and change poopy pants and pee when I laugh too hard. I don't feel sexy and my belly is less muffin top and more pancake batter top. And yet, I am perfectly happy. I have never been so privileged to be such a damn mess. I also don't feel totally at home with my mommy friends either. I still feel like this is new and I am figuring it out and they have already been here and done it and it makes me feel self conscious. I have a tiny girl and she is not ready for play dates. I am not ready to be barraged with well intentioned advice. I feel confidant that I will be ready and strong enough soon enough but for now, I crave friends who have new babies so we could go through this together.
My relationship with the hubbs is changed too. We are not just two people who work hard, play hard and love the shit out of each other. We are parents now. We are tired, unwashed, hungry people who need a combination of things including soap, exercise, lots of food, 6 solid hours of sleep and to get laid. It is not easy. We are good communicators so that is one thing really in our corner but we are both still reeling from the enormity of all the changes. I get nervous about our happiness sometimes. Not so much our happiness with one another but peripheral happiness. The hubbs is my eternal optimist and all the changes have him feeling burned out about work and impatient for something great in his work life. He has wanted to fly his whole life and I had wanted a baby.....
Anyway, yeah, shit is crazy different. I am way tougher than I thought. I am way flabbier than I had expected. I am way happier than I could have imagined. I wonder if I will ever genuinely want to have sex again. I hope G finds some peace in the little things.
I get tired so easily. A "big day" is a 45min walk with the dogs and R, a trip to the store, cooking dinner and prepping breakfast for the next day, cleaning up, feeding myself, maybe showering? I am trying to get my head around the idea of exercising again but honestly....wuh, it makes me feel like napping just thinking about it. On the flip side, I am never as tired as I thought I would be. Sure, I feel like someone has been storing their wool sweaters and blankets under my eyelids all night most mornings. I am prone to attempting to bribe my 7 week old daughter with anything from breast milk to cash if she will just sleep for another hour. But, I remember being dead bone tired durng my pregnancy and I was terrified that it would be even worse with a new baby. It sort of is, but I don't really mind like before. I live for cups of coffee and baby smiles. I am energized by her being calm and alert while we are out for a walk, or by picking up the kitchen. The amount of actual sleep I require seems to have shifted significantly. I may get 9 hours in bed but I only get about 6hrs of sleep and that is often in 2-3hr chunks. So, yeah, I was so afraid of being exhausted and it turns out it hasn't killed me. It hasn't even really been all that hard to get over. She is better than sleep and that is pretty much all I need.
My body is a mess. I am down 42lbs since the day she was born and that is FUCKING AWESOME! Pardon my French but Hallelujah! I was sure I would be stuck with baby weight for EVER! Here, the real problem is the loose skin. Seriously, this is a drag. The stretch marks don't bother me nearly as much as the flabby apron of skin I have down below the belt. It is awful. I have no idea how I am going to address it. It actually seems to be worse with every pound I lose. Gross. Also, my ass has left the building. This is going to sound super insane and maybe even racist? I had a great ass. It was big and midwestern and black men loved it. Seriously, white guys never seemed to comment on my ass the way middle aged black men did. Well, I think those days have passed because my butt has made like old people and headed south. I don't even understand why! What does my ass have to do with pregnancy? Oh well. Could be worse huh? The back fat...that's where the real bummer is. I am not wearing real bras these days. I am living in nursing tank tops and I am here to tell you they are fucking awesome. I am going to have to do my "pregnancy and postpartum gear review" soon. I know all the good stuff for pregnant ladies.
My broken butt is another thing. I only pushed for 29min. I pushed like both of our lives depended on it though and thanks to the student (grrrr) I tore. I didn't tear very badly but I needed stitches and she did a crap job with that too. I still have pain in my vulva. I often feel swollen and throbbing and achy like I have a headache in my crotch at the end of the day. Just about every day. It sucks. As if the hormones weren't bad enough libido killers, the feeling of painful butt really ties the room together. I didn't expect to still feel uncomfortable 7 weeks out. ** Let me just say that my discomfort is a 3-4 out of 10 on a pain scale. I take ibuprofen for it every few days when I really feel achy but it is not excruciating. I don't want to scare you. I just want to whine.** It does have me a little spooked about sex though. I just don't feel "good" down there in lady land. It is hard to want to have anyone over ya know?
Enough about my lady bits, lets talk about relationships. I feel pretty freakin' alone these days. I don't really feel like I am the same person I was before I had R and I am not sorry about being different. I feel like my closest friends don't quite know what to make of me now. I am part, boring only talks about R and part cautionary tale. I leak and don't sleep and change poopy pants and pee when I laugh too hard. I don't feel sexy and my belly is less muffin top and more pancake batter top. And yet, I am perfectly happy. I have never been so privileged to be such a damn mess. I also don't feel totally at home with my mommy friends either. I still feel like this is new and I am figuring it out and they have already been here and done it and it makes me feel self conscious. I have a tiny girl and she is not ready for play dates. I am not ready to be barraged with well intentioned advice. I feel confidant that I will be ready and strong enough soon enough but for now, I crave friends who have new babies so we could go through this together.
My relationship with the hubbs is changed too. We are not just two people who work hard, play hard and love the shit out of each other. We are parents now. We are tired, unwashed, hungry people who need a combination of things including soap, exercise, lots of food, 6 solid hours of sleep and to get laid. It is not easy. We are good communicators so that is one thing really in our corner but we are both still reeling from the enormity of all the changes. I get nervous about our happiness sometimes. Not so much our happiness with one another but peripheral happiness. The hubbs is my eternal optimist and all the changes have him feeling burned out about work and impatient for something great in his work life. He has wanted to fly his whole life and I had wanted a baby.....
Anyway, yeah, shit is crazy different. I am way tougher than I thought. I am way flabbier than I had expected. I am way happier than I could have imagined. I wonder if I will ever genuinely want to have sex again. I hope G finds some peace in the little things.
Saturday, April 7, 2012
How Odd...
It is late, Ramona is dreaming in her baby nest and I am about to turn off the computer and go to sleep when my stomach rumbled. It was most certainly a gas bubble but it set off the thought in my mind "Oh, hi baby". It made me realize that I hadn't thought about how I had felt her presence in my belly for so long and now she is in the nest and the only thing moving about in the old tummy these days is gas. I don't know why it has struck me so. I guess I would have expected to miss it? Or to think of it sooner? I don't know...I just can't believe it took me 6 weeks to notice that. Anyway, I am hoping for some Sl**p tonight so I should make haste while the baby snoozes. Soon enough she will want to eat. Life if good, I am getting eager to start physical therapy to get my back and abs back in shape. Not that I really want to leave her but it will be more reassuring to go back to work physically able. Alright, night for now.
Sunday, April 1, 2012
Stop! Hammer time!
I want everyone to stop for just a second and think of 5 things that make this exact place you are in today, this year, right now, awesome. Just take a minute and think about 5 things that make you so glad your life isn't any different even a tiny bit.
Are you thinking?
No really, do this....I'm serious.
1.I have a warm, snoring baby on my chest. She is the baby I grew and pushed out into the light. I am her momma and she knows it. After more than a decade of being the one who makes the babies cry I am now the one she wants. Pretty fucking cool.
2. I have a kind, understanding partner who changes diapers, feeds me and tries diligently to understand what the hell I am blubbering about when I start crying about random things. He is my best friend and though I feel a little disjointed right now as we are both exhausted and adjusting, I can't fathom doing this with anyone else. Really, I can't.
3. I am glad I have done so many of the awesome things I have done. I think about every sailing trip and camping trip, every outward bound course and night spent with my old lab truck camping, every mile I drove between the Portlands, every tear I shed over broken hearts or not getting into PA school, every tiny stupid disappointment and every great victory, saying yes on a mountain top, saying "I will" in front of friends and family, signing papers on a pool table at a bar on a rainy January night....All of it lead me to this day.
4. Being a distance runner....like LONG distance runner. I am equipped with a patience that was not god given to me. I am so impatient. Right now my whole world is based on a clock I never get to see. I only get to respond to the alarm and I have no idea what time it is set to go off. Being a runner taught me 1. Keep going. You are not as tired as you will be in another 20miles so enjoy the energy you have while you have it. 2. It all changes all the time so enjoy where you are and don't get too far ahead of yourself. Both of these things are acutely relevant to the first 2 months of parenthood as far as I can tell.
5. The sun is starting to come out. I was afraid I was never going to feel like going out with my babe. Towards the end of my pregnancy I was damn sure I was ALWAYS going to be exhausted and apathetic. I am exhausted, and almost always hungry but I vacuum, I walk the dogs, I clean the bathroom...I am generally living a more participatory life now than I was while I was pregnant. This gives me hope that I will figure out how to handle the continued sleep deprivation once I go back to work. I intend to address it and thrive in spite of it. I have no idea how but walks in the sunshine and a clean bathroom help.
6. I know I said 5 but I have one more and it is important. Friends. I have some really awesome buddies in my world. Some I feel like I met almost by accident. More than one of whom I am so thankful for it makes me a bit verclempt to think about.
Yeah, I had been throwing a bit of a pity party for myself yesterday...long story, and I wanted to take a second today to stop and be thankful, TRULY thankful for the things that make me feel perfectly content in my life right now. The things I want to work on include grad school, my baby belly and arms, moping the floors and bathing the dogs...they can all wait until tomorrow. Today I will bask in the glory of gratitude...and a new haircut.
Are you thinking?
No really, do this....I'm serious.
1.I have a warm, snoring baby on my chest. She is the baby I grew and pushed out into the light. I am her momma and she knows it. After more than a decade of being the one who makes the babies cry I am now the one she wants. Pretty fucking cool.
2. I have a kind, understanding partner who changes diapers, feeds me and tries diligently to understand what the hell I am blubbering about when I start crying about random things. He is my best friend and though I feel a little disjointed right now as we are both exhausted and adjusting, I can't fathom doing this with anyone else. Really, I can't.
3. I am glad I have done so many of the awesome things I have done. I think about every sailing trip and camping trip, every outward bound course and night spent with my old lab truck camping, every mile I drove between the Portlands, every tear I shed over broken hearts or not getting into PA school, every tiny stupid disappointment and every great victory, saying yes on a mountain top, saying "I will" in front of friends and family, signing papers on a pool table at a bar on a rainy January night....All of it lead me to this day.
4. Being a distance runner....like LONG distance runner. I am equipped with a patience that was not god given to me. I am so impatient. Right now my whole world is based on a clock I never get to see. I only get to respond to the alarm and I have no idea what time it is set to go off. Being a runner taught me 1. Keep going. You are not as tired as you will be in another 20miles so enjoy the energy you have while you have it. 2. It all changes all the time so enjoy where you are and don't get too far ahead of yourself. Both of these things are acutely relevant to the first 2 months of parenthood as far as I can tell.
5. The sun is starting to come out. I was afraid I was never going to feel like going out with my babe. Towards the end of my pregnancy I was damn sure I was ALWAYS going to be exhausted and apathetic. I am exhausted, and almost always hungry but I vacuum, I walk the dogs, I clean the bathroom...I am generally living a more participatory life now than I was while I was pregnant. This gives me hope that I will figure out how to handle the continued sleep deprivation once I go back to work. I intend to address it and thrive in spite of it. I have no idea how but walks in the sunshine and a clean bathroom help.
6. I know I said 5 but I have one more and it is important. Friends. I have some really awesome buddies in my world. Some I feel like I met almost by accident. More than one of whom I am so thankful for it makes me a bit verclempt to think about.
Yeah, I had been throwing a bit of a pity party for myself yesterday...long story, and I wanted to take a second today to stop and be thankful, TRULY thankful for the things that make me feel perfectly content in my life right now. The things I want to work on include grad school, my baby belly and arms, moping the floors and bathing the dogs...they can all wait until tomorrow. Today I will bask in the glory of gratitude...and a new haircut.
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