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.
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