The summer was beautiful. Not only did New England weather cooperate 90% of the time, but LF and I spent 2+ magical months together. He was excited, happy, and as cooperative as a toddler can be. Tantrums were few, the days were filled with field trips, and we grew incredibly close. So close, as times, it was to the exclusion of others. I felt almost guilty about how much I ate up all the mommy love.
I also made some new friends, saw some of my old friends, got a small amount of exercise, blogged a bit, got things done, made phone calls, wrote emails, had play dates...you get the idea.
But, like all good things, it had to come to an end.
I knew my return to my classroom would change things. I thought I was prepared for those changes.
I wasn't.
These days I am having a very hard time keeping my head above water with my classroom, my home, and everything in between. Returning communications of all kind takes days (or weeks) and I feel a pretty constant guilt as a result.
Mostly though, I can not describe how much I miss my boy. I know he is in good hands with his grandparents while I work, but it just isn't the same. Getting daily email updates of his adventures, moods, and meals just isn't the same as being there myself.
But it isn't just missing him that is making me sad.
Somehow in the transition of me going back to work, the mommy love has been dialed down. A lot. It has been replaced with more frequent tantrums and a sudden shift in affection. It seems as though we are firmly in a daddy love phase right now. As much as I am thrilled that LF is back to being attached at the hip with KG, I wish he would make some room for me. I know it is common, probably fleeting, and that I shouldn't take it personally. Still, it stings.
I'm trying hard not to pull the "I was in labor with you for 3 days with over 3 hours of pushing" card here. Okay, I guess I did just pull that card. But really, I just see these days as so fleeting. There will probably be years of LF not wanting anything to do with me (adolescence comes to mind). So, I'm feeling kind of desperate to squeeze every kiss and hug out of this kid right now.
So, I've been going out of my way to make more quality time with him. Trying to make every minute of our drastically reduced time together count.
Slowly, we will all readjust and the pendulum will find the middle, right?
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Showing posts with label motherhood. Show all posts
Saturday, September 27, 2014
Sunday, July 20, 2014
The Minority
If you are still in the TTC trenches, you may want to skip this post. Please take care of yourself.
When I first figured out I was infertile, I felt a deep sense of isolation. Especially after my miscarriage. Of course, at the time, many friends were already pregnant and some already had children. I was one of the few in my circle who was trying without success. There was so much shame, embarrassment, and envy. Every time I secretly found out someone I knew was also infertile, it felt like a covert mission to let her know, "Me too! Me too!" The blogosphere became my safe place. It also became the source of several very close friendships that remain so crucial for me to this day. But the source of that closeness always has a hint of sadness. Because, when you make friends under such awful circumstances, there is that sense of knowing that the issue that brought you close remains, on the back burner.
Then, there was Little Fab. With our miracle baby, we agreed to hope for/try for at-least-one-more miracle, to make our family complete. We both have siblings. We want a sibling(s) for LF. Done.
As I adjusted to motherhood, some of that isolation from infertility went away. My focus was totally changed, and the kind of support I needed was as well. Instead of needing to crawl my way through infertility, I could put all of that on hold. I could focus on becoming the parent I want to be and on raising my sweet boy without worrying about injections, ultrasounds, and procedures. For the last two years, I've enjoyed leaning on both my existing circle of fantastic friends, as well as many new ones, in the best way. To feel a part of the community I so desperately wanted to join has been an amazing blessing.
But, lately I've been feeling some of that loneliness creeping back in. As more and more people I know (both infertile and not) have had or are pregnant with their second (and sometimes third) child, I find myself entrenched in self-doubt, uncertainty, and isolation. Again.
There are a few levels to these emotions. On the surface, there is the obvious: I am still infertile. I do not ovulate. My ovaries are ridiculously dormant without injectable medication. My PCOS did not magically resolve after the birth of my boy. Really, nothing has changed on that front. Secondly, we are lucky enough to have some frozen embryos in storage. But, there is no guarantee that an FET will work. It is all a taxing, emotional, physical gamble. Thirdly, there is also a new financial consideration to this, thanks to changes to my insurance. (Even though I live in a state where infertility coverage is mandated, that does not mean we do not have huge deductibles and fees.)
But, those aren't the core issue.
The real problem is that I am not 100% sure I can do this again, or that I want to. I may be imagining this, but somehow I feel like because I am an infertile, I am supposed to want as many children as I can possibly carry. I am supposed to go right back into the game, blazing with enthusiasm.
Except, I'm not.
Having LF has been the most rewarding and amazing experience of my life. I love this kid with my entire heart. He is a piece of me,walking running around on two legs. He is smart, beautiful, funny, charming, and everything else you could want in a child.
But, I have no words for how much I underestimated how tough parenting would be - especially the first year. There was reflux. There were no naps. There was crippling postpartum depression and anxiety. There is STILL postpartum anxiety. There was a deep sense of losing myself and not knowing how to get myself back. I ended up back in intensive therapy and worked very hard to regain some semblance of a normal life.
As LF has gotten a little older, many of those issues resolved. He felt better. I felt better. Life stabilized and has actually gotten really fun.
We are happy.
What if adding another baby fucks all of that up? What if I fall back into that hole? What if there is not enough of me to go around?
I feel like the clock is ticking, too. If we start the FET process next spring (the current plan), LF will be around 4 (maybe a little less, maybe more) when another baby is born, assuming it is successful. That is less age difference than my sister and I have, but more than many first and second siblings. Will they get along? Will they hate each other? Again, you never know. We are constantly asked, "So when are you going to go for #2?" Like we are not meeting the schedule we are supposed to be on.
I'm embarrassed to admit these feelings and certainly know how lucky I am to have what I have. I know so many people don't have a choice about this. But there it is. Every time we are on the playground (or with friends with more than one kid) I see mothers doing it - spreading their love, attention, and energy to multiple children. I constantly sit and ask myself how they do it. How do they look so together? How are they standing without an IV of caffeine?
I feel really alone with these emotions, like I am once again in the minority. Most moms want another baby. Most infertiles would kill to have another. Right?
So what the hell is wrong with me?
When I first figured out I was infertile, I felt a deep sense of isolation. Especially after my miscarriage. Of course, at the time, many friends were already pregnant and some already had children. I was one of the few in my circle who was trying without success. There was so much shame, embarrassment, and envy. Every time I secretly found out someone I knew was also infertile, it felt like a covert mission to let her know, "Me too! Me too!" The blogosphere became my safe place. It also became the source of several very close friendships that remain so crucial for me to this day. But the source of that closeness always has a hint of sadness. Because, when you make friends under such awful circumstances, there is that sense of knowing that the issue that brought you close remains, on the back burner.
Then, there was Little Fab. With our miracle baby, we agreed to hope for/try for at-least-one-more miracle, to make our family complete. We both have siblings. We want a sibling(s) for LF. Done.
As I adjusted to motherhood, some of that isolation from infertility went away. My focus was totally changed, and the kind of support I needed was as well. Instead of needing to crawl my way through infertility, I could put all of that on hold. I could focus on becoming the parent I want to be and on raising my sweet boy without worrying about injections, ultrasounds, and procedures. For the last two years, I've enjoyed leaning on both my existing circle of fantastic friends, as well as many new ones, in the best way. To feel a part of the community I so desperately wanted to join has been an amazing blessing.
But, lately I've been feeling some of that loneliness creeping back in. As more and more people I know (both infertile and not) have had or are pregnant with their second (and sometimes third) child, I find myself entrenched in self-doubt, uncertainty, and isolation. Again.
There are a few levels to these emotions. On the surface, there is the obvious: I am still infertile. I do not ovulate. My ovaries are ridiculously dormant without injectable medication. My PCOS did not magically resolve after the birth of my boy. Really, nothing has changed on that front. Secondly, we are lucky enough to have some frozen embryos in storage. But, there is no guarantee that an FET will work. It is all a taxing, emotional, physical gamble. Thirdly, there is also a new financial consideration to this, thanks to changes to my insurance. (Even though I live in a state where infertility coverage is mandated, that does not mean we do not have huge deductibles and fees.)
But, those aren't the core issue.
The real problem is that I am not 100% sure I can do this again, or that I want to. I may be imagining this, but somehow I feel like because I am an infertile, I am supposed to want as many children as I can possibly carry. I am supposed to go right back into the game, blazing with enthusiasm.
Except, I'm not.
Having LF has been the most rewarding and amazing experience of my life. I love this kid with my entire heart. He is a piece of me,
But, I have no words for how much I underestimated how tough parenting would be - especially the first year. There was reflux. There were no naps. There was crippling postpartum depression and anxiety. There is STILL postpartum anxiety. There was a deep sense of losing myself and not knowing how to get myself back. I ended up back in intensive therapy and worked very hard to regain some semblance of a normal life.
As LF has gotten a little older, many of those issues resolved. He felt better. I felt better. Life stabilized and has actually gotten really fun.
We are happy.
What if adding another baby fucks all of that up? What if I fall back into that hole? What if there is not enough of me to go around?
I feel like the clock is ticking, too. If we start the FET process next spring (the current plan), LF will be around 4 (maybe a little less, maybe more) when another baby is born, assuming it is successful. That is less age difference than my sister and I have, but more than many first and second siblings. Will they get along? Will they hate each other? Again, you never know. We are constantly asked, "So when are you going to go for #2?" Like we are not meeting the schedule we are supposed to be on.
I'm embarrassed to admit these feelings and certainly know how lucky I am to have what I have. I know so many people don't have a choice about this. But there it is. Every time we are on the playground (or with friends with more than one kid) I see mothers doing it - spreading their love, attention, and energy to multiple children. I constantly sit and ask myself how they do it. How do they look so together? How are they standing without an IV of caffeine?
I feel really alone with these emotions, like I am once again in the minority. Most moms want another baby. Most infertiles would kill to have another. Right?
So what the hell is wrong with me?
Tuesday, July 15, 2014
The Rules
I've broken a few rules in my day. You wouldn't guess to look at me now, the suburban mom I am, but it's true.
There were tattoos, punk shows, illegal substances, and various other daring adventures that made my younger years a tad exhilarating.
But really, when it comes down to it, I am a pretty straight and narrow kind of person at heart. Even while I was engaging in all that fun stuff, I worked, got good grades, graduated college and grad school, and generally showed what a responsible citizen I was.
I can't help it - I always really want to do what's right, no matter what the situation. I want to follow through on what is expected of me. To be truthful, I get annoyed when others don't.
I use my turn signal.
I wear my seat belt.
I show up on time.
I answer emails promptly. Mostly.
I. Follow. Rules.
Hell, I usually fess up to KG about tiny infractions, just to ease my conscience. I have a serious Jiminy Cricket inside of me, for better or for worse.
I've written before about how much of a test parenting is. Parents are constantly faced with open-ended problems that have no simple solution, only a "do whatever you think is best" type of response.
It starts during pregnancy with: "How much weight should you gain? "What should you eat/not eat?" Then there is the: "Will you breastfeed? Will you cloth diaper? Will you co-sleep? Will you practice Attachment Parenting?" Then it moves to: "Will you sleep train/CIO? When will you start solids? Will you do purees or Baby Led Weaning?" There are no rules on these things. You are supposed to just go on gut feeling. Really, it's anarchy. This drove my rule-driven sensibility insane.
On other things baby-related, there are some rules, or at least guidelines. Those pesky emails from fun parenting resource websites love to remind me of these.
Is your baby doing...?
Has your child started...?
Have you stopped...?
You know, just to make me slightly more paranoid about meeting expectations than I already am.
There are many rules I follow, especially about sleep, sunblock, and general safety related things. Those are non-negotiable. But some things, I'm figuring out, I need to be less rigid about in order to make our day to day work for all of us.
So here it goes:
Well, annoying-parenting-website-who-shall-remain-nameless: we are breaking some rules in our house. Gasp.
I confess: my son is over 12 months (18 and a half thank you) and we are still on 2 bottles a day, morning and bedtime. And...he doesn't hold his own bottle. Never has and probably never will. We cuddle and he drinks his milk. And yes, we've tried sippy cups of milk and it is a no go.
The horror.
Confession 2: We eat snacks (and sometimes meals) while playing, and not in the high chair. Yup, he grabs a bite, plays, rinse, repeat. Does it make a mess? Yes. Does he eat more snack this way than trying to get him in the high chair 5 times a day? Yes. If I can get him to eat in the chair 2-3 times a day I feel victorious.
Chaos I tell you.
Confession 3: We do screen time under the age of 2. There is Sesame Street. There is Curious George. There is Max and Ruby. There is Bubble Guppies. Not all day, but enough so KG and I can shower, make coffee, and get dressed.
How dare we!
I could go on, but you get the idea.
That doesn't mean I don't have guilt about these things. Clearly, I am writing about them here, purging myself. But maybe I need to ease up on myself a bit, as several people from my mother's generation have told me. I've been such a stickler for rules my whole life, but times are changing. I am changing.
Who knew I had it in me?
What are the parenting "rules" that you break?
Tuesday, June 17, 2014
One among many
I've been reading many blog posts (like Cristy's) about being absent from blogs. About feeling detached from the places that we used to find so important and personal. About being unsure about what is "okay" to post. About what would alienate those still working on becoming a mom.
This post joins many others on the same topic.
I'm struggling to reconnect and find my blogging voice again. I want very deeply to express all that has happened since December: all my thoughts on how I'm evolving as a person and as a parent, the current status of my infertility, and thoughts about the future. But, there is something that always stands in my way of posting.
When I think about how long it has been since I've blogged, I am deeply embarrassed. How could I let nearly 6 months go by? How could this place which was my saving grace for so long become so neglected?
Every time I find a few minutes to sit down and write, I am hit with some nagging negative thoughts. Have I have lost all my readers? Do I still have something important to say? Does writing about my clever, independent, funny, and stubborn toddler have a place in this blog?
I'm still following many of you who made the transition to motherhood (in whatever way worked), and many who are still in the trenches. You are doing it - you are writing in a way that acknowledges both sides of your readership. It can be done. I am just trying to convince myself that I can still be relevant to my original readers, as well as perhaps some new ones.
There is only one way for me to make my return to blogging. To start writing, and start becoming a part of the conversation on your blogs as well.
I think some revamps to my blog's design might also help the investment factor. I had a friend do the original template, but I think I need a new look. However, I was born without the pinterest gene and have no idea where to start.
So let's start with a question: do you do your own blog design? How do you get inspired? What resources do you use?
This post joins many others on the same topic.
I'm struggling to reconnect and find my blogging voice again. I want very deeply to express all that has happened since December: all my thoughts on how I'm evolving as a person and as a parent, the current status of my infertility, and thoughts about the future. But, there is something that always stands in my way of posting.
When I think about how long it has been since I've blogged, I am deeply embarrassed. How could I let nearly 6 months go by? How could this place which was my saving grace for so long become so neglected?
Every time I find a few minutes to sit down and write, I am hit with some nagging negative thoughts. Have I have lost all my readers? Do I still have something important to say? Does writing about my clever, independent, funny, and stubborn toddler have a place in this blog?
I'm still following many of you who made the transition to motherhood (in whatever way worked), and many who are still in the trenches. You are doing it - you are writing in a way that acknowledges both sides of your readership. It can be done. I am just trying to convince myself that I can still be relevant to my original readers, as well as perhaps some new ones.
There is only one way for me to make my return to blogging. To start writing, and start becoming a part of the conversation on your blogs as well.
I think some revamps to my blog's design might also help the investment factor. I had a friend do the original template, but I think I need a new look. However, I was born without the pinterest gene and have no idea where to start.
So let's start with a question: do you do your own blog design? How do you get inspired? What resources do you use?
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Happy Birthday Baby Boy
Dear LF,
Today is your first birthday and KG and I are in total disbelief that you have gotten so big, so fast. The cliche about time standing still and speeding by simultaneously is absolutely true. We've watched you start to turn into a determined, funny, smart, and independent little boy right before our eyes. I can't properly articulate how deeply I love you. It is a part of my heart I never knew existed. Even on your toughest days, I just want to hold you close and get down on my knees with thanks that you exist - that we were able to make you and bring you into the world. I know you will someday hate having to share your birthday with Christmas, but you just couldn't wait one more minute to join the party. I could list all your new tricks one by one, but the only trick that matters is that you are here: a smiling, giggling, sometimes whining, sometimes yelling, but always individual perfect little being.
I love you - so, so much. Happy Birthday.
-Mama
Today is your first birthday and KG and I are in total disbelief that you have gotten so big, so fast. The cliche about time standing still and speeding by simultaneously is absolutely true. We've watched you start to turn into a determined, funny, smart, and independent little boy right before our eyes. I can't properly articulate how deeply I love you. It is a part of my heart I never knew existed. Even on your toughest days, I just want to hold you close and get down on my knees with thanks that you exist - that we were able to make you and bring you into the world. I know you will someday hate having to share your birthday with Christmas, but you just couldn't wait one more minute to join the party. I could list all your new tricks one by one, but the only trick that matters is that you are here: a smiling, giggling, sometimes whining, sometimes yelling, but always individual perfect little being.
I love you - so, so much. Happy Birthday.
-Mama
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
Another summer come and gone
I go back to work in less than a week. Less than a week. How did that happen?
Some consider my summer break (which is NOT 3 months long as critics like to assume) a perk of teaching. I don't consider it a perk. I consider it completely necessary, and anyone who has taught for any length of time knows exactly what I mean.
From the outside, teaching looks like a sweet gig to many people. They assume that teachers start their work day when students enter the classroom, and end it when students exit. They assume we get all our work done within the confines of a school day, and leisurely eat bon bons at home the rest of the time. They would be wrong. Most school days I work 7:30am-5pm, and take work home, as well as answer parent communications. I also chair committees, run student clubs, work on special projects, etc. in addition to all of my lesson planning and instruction. Let's not even start with professional development and summer curriculum work. Plus, let's just say it isn't the kind of job where I can go grab a Starbucks or pick up my dry cleaning mid-day. Sometimes I find I've gone the whole day without peeing!
I say summers (about 10 weeks) are well deserved. And even then, I've tutored 2 days per week (and often during the school year) to supplement my mediocre income.
This summer was very different than any other because of LF. To be honest, I didn't know how I was going to feel about it when the school year ended. My maternity leave was a tough time for LF and I. I was deep in the throws of PPD and desperate for some semblance of my pre-mommy life. Honestly, I was relieved to go back to work at the time. So, when late June came around, I didn't know if I was going to feel as overwhelmed as I did in April.
Little did I know how amazing this summer would be. In just these last 9 weeks, he has developed so, so much. Not only is he doing things like sitting up and army crawling across the floor (hello, baby gates!), but he is constantly babbling with consonant sounds, went from 4(!) catnaps to 2 predictable longer ones, is eating solid foods, is sleeping through the night (mostly), and is generally amazing. Even at those times when he is driving me nuts because he won't cooperate with whatever I want him to do, I am just overflowing with how much I love this baby. He is a person now, and someone I miss desperately when I am away from him.
But here I go. About to walk into another school year. And here he goes. Into a daycare/Grandma care split.
I keep thinking of how much I am going to miss during those weekdays, all of the things he will do for the first time when I am not there.
I'm sure once we get into a routine again, I won't feel so despondent about this. The stimulation in daycare and quality time with the grandfolk are big benefits right? He won't forget I'm his mom, right?
At least we have the summers...
Some consider my summer break (which is NOT 3 months long as critics like to assume) a perk of teaching. I don't consider it a perk. I consider it completely necessary, and anyone who has taught for any length of time knows exactly what I mean.
From the outside, teaching looks like a sweet gig to many people. They assume that teachers start their work day when students enter the classroom, and end it when students exit. They assume we get all our work done within the confines of a school day, and leisurely eat bon bons at home the rest of the time. They would be wrong. Most school days I work 7:30am-5pm, and take work home, as well as answer parent communications. I also chair committees, run student clubs, work on special projects, etc. in addition to all of my lesson planning and instruction. Let's not even start with professional development and summer curriculum work. Plus, let's just say it isn't the kind of job where I can go grab a Starbucks or pick up my dry cleaning mid-day. Sometimes I find I've gone the whole day without peeing!
I say summers (about 10 weeks) are well deserved. And even then, I've tutored 2 days per week (and often during the school year) to supplement my mediocre income.
This summer was very different than any other because of LF. To be honest, I didn't know how I was going to feel about it when the school year ended. My maternity leave was a tough time for LF and I. I was deep in the throws of PPD and desperate for some semblance of my pre-mommy life. Honestly, I was relieved to go back to work at the time. So, when late June came around, I didn't know if I was going to feel as overwhelmed as I did in April.
Little did I know how amazing this summer would be. In just these last 9 weeks, he has developed so, so much. Not only is he doing things like sitting up and army crawling across the floor (hello, baby gates!), but he is constantly babbling with consonant sounds, went from 4(!) catnaps to 2 predictable longer ones, is eating solid foods, is sleeping through the night (mostly), and is generally amazing. Even at those times when he is driving me nuts because he won't cooperate with whatever I want him to do, I am just overflowing with how much I love this baby. He is a person now, and someone I miss desperately when I am away from him.
But here I go. About to walk into another school year. And here he goes. Into a daycare/Grandma care split.
I keep thinking of how much I am going to miss during those weekdays, all of the things he will do for the first time when I am not there.
I'm sure once we get into a routine again, I won't feel so despondent about this. The stimulation in daycare and quality time with the grandfolk are big benefits right? He won't forget I'm his mom, right?
At least we have the summers...
Monday, July 29, 2013
Head Over Heels
As always, please take care of yourself if you are in a bad place with TTC. You may not want to read this entry.
I was looking at LF the other day and something hit me. Something that I wish had hit me the day he was born. I have fallen completely head over heels in love with this child. I have always loved him. I mean, he's my baby. Of course I love him. But this whole "in love" thing is more recent, and I'm not afraid to say it.
I am sure this post might not sit well with some people, but I am going to be 100% honest here. It took me a while to say with certainty that I am absolutely, completely happy about being a mom. If you've been reading for the past seven months, you know I got hit with a pretty bad bout of postpartum depression. The transition from pregnancy to motherhood was tough in a way I didn't expect. It has taken me a long time to get my feet back under me and REALLY start to enjoy our new life. I feel like I was in survival mode for many months, and then, all of a sudden, I look forward to every moment with my little man. Even on the tough days, he makes me smile and melts my heart.
Sometimes I feel incredible guilt about the fact that it took so long to adjust. Did I waste all that time before? Am I a bad mother because I didn't hear violins and feel soft music in the recovery room at the hospital? I don't know. But what I do know is that I am catching up quickly, and that is a great feeling.
Something similar happened with KG. BAM. One day, I was in love with him. Completely smitten. 12 years later, I still feel those flutters when I see him. Perhaps it just is part of who I am. I need some time to feel the sledgehammer. But once I do, look out. There's no stopping it.
Happy seven months, little man. Mama loves you and is IN LOVE with you. And I mean it.
I was looking at LF the other day and something hit me. Something that I wish had hit me the day he was born. I have fallen completely head over heels in love with this child. I have always loved him. I mean, he's my baby. Of course I love him. But this whole "in love" thing is more recent, and I'm not afraid to say it.
I am sure this post might not sit well with some people, but I am going to be 100% honest here. It took me a while to say with certainty that I am absolutely, completely happy about being a mom. If you've been reading for the past seven months, you know I got hit with a pretty bad bout of postpartum depression. The transition from pregnancy to motherhood was tough in a way I didn't expect. It has taken me a long time to get my feet back under me and REALLY start to enjoy our new life. I feel like I was in survival mode for many months, and then, all of a sudden, I look forward to every moment with my little man. Even on the tough days, he makes me smile and melts my heart.
Sometimes I feel incredible guilt about the fact that it took so long to adjust. Did I waste all that time before? Am I a bad mother because I didn't hear violins and feel soft music in the recovery room at the hospital? I don't know. But what I do know is that I am catching up quickly, and that is a great feeling.
Something similar happened with KG. BAM. One day, I was in love with him. Completely smitten. 12 years later, I still feel those flutters when I see him. Perhaps it just is part of who I am. I need some time to feel the sledgehammer. But once I do, look out. There's no stopping it.
Happy seven months, little man. Mama loves you and is IN LOVE with you. And I mean it.
Monday, June 17, 2013
Building Immunity
Yup, I'm that blogger that went back to work and didn't write ONE post in the last few months. I never wanted to become her, but here I am.
I have lots of reasons: I was finishing a very tough school year. I was learning how to balance being a mom, wife, teacher, friend, daughter, etc. Hell, I'm still learning. I was so busy that I only had time to work, eat, sleep, and be with LF and KG.
The truth is, exhaustion and family time won out over my blog. I just wasn't willing to give up my 8:30 bedtime while everything was so overwhelming. But, now that my school year ended, I'm hoping to make a blogger come back. Other than going to the CVS Minute Clinic for an ear infection (mine, not LF's), blogging was first on my list for summer vacation. I'm feeling a little rusty, so hang in there with me while I get my writing legs back.
All in all, LF is turning into an amazing little man. He does new "tricks" often. The latest: turning back to belly in his crib, over and over again. Too bad this is often when he is supposed to be sleeping! He smiles, laughs, and plays his days away. He loves to "talk," grasp things, play with new toys, touch and explore faces, and watch the world with wonder. He is close to sitting on his own, and is loving daycare, despite being sick a lot (more on that later).
The transition back to work went better than expected, and actually helped me get over the hump with my postpartum depression. I missed LF every day, but having a piece of my pre-mommy identity back was incredibly good for me. Selfish or not, I know I improved enormously in the last few months. Of course, the series of colds and viruses that have plagued LF make me feel very guilty. Luckily, there's no choice in the matter. Both KG and I have to work for our financial health, so I can only beat myself up so much about it. He's building immunity, right?
Speaking of building immunity...it feels as though I've been building some of my own lately.
There have been several moments since LF was born that I've said, "I'm the worst person to be his mother." That might sound awful considering what it took to get LF in the first place. But, since he was born, I have discovered parts of myself more vulnerable and raw than I ever knew existed. Although I theoretically knew motherhood was a tough job and unexpected things would happen (babies get sick, babies cry, babies do things that are unpredictable) I did not know when I was pregnant that I would often be unable to emotionally process those things without completely losing it. Seriously, I see moms who can let all those things roll off their backs without ridiculous amounts of worry or anxiety and I am green with envy. I on the other hand often freak out. Actually, not just often: ALL THE TIME. Illnesses, sleep disturbances, eating, reflux, you name it. Something with LF throws me and I can't eat, sleep, or smile. So, I get these moments when I feel like LF deserves a different mom. One who won't turn into a neurotic mess at every sneeze and sniffle. One who is a pillar of strength all the time. I know some moms like this, and I so wish I could channel their abilities.
Most recent example? LF ended up with a terrible virus that landed us in urgent care on a Sunday when his temp reached 104.4. During the week he battled this fever, he also had to have a chest xray, a botched blood draw, and more. I wanted to be strong for him. I really, really tried to put on a brave face and distract him with smiles and songs. But, there were many times when I could. not. do. it. Instead, I wept right along with him and had to lean on my mom (who just moved here with my dad from Los Angeles! OMG!). At one point, I asked a nurse in his pediatrician's office whether my crying was marked on a list to give nurses a head's up. She smiled kindly and told me that most mothers would be on a list if that was true.
Still, I know I take it too far. It is counterproductive and wastes time and energy I need. Plus, I'm going to be in this job for a long, long time. KG reminded me of lots of things to come: teething, injuries, teasing in school, heartbreaks. It is all coming, ready or not.
I know I need to toughen up. I know I can't continue to make myself sick with worry. It isn't good for me, KG, or LF. But, I'm just not there yet. I especially know that compared to some people very close to my heart, I have nothing to worry about. LF is a happy, (sometimes) healthy baby who is going through all the normal bumps in the road.
Perhaps with every new experience (both the scary kind and the wonderful kind) I'll build a thicker skin and a little more immunity.
I have lots of reasons: I was finishing a very tough school year. I was learning how to balance being a mom, wife, teacher, friend, daughter, etc. Hell, I'm still learning. I was so busy that I only had time to work, eat, sleep, and be with LF and KG.
The truth is, exhaustion and family time won out over my blog. I just wasn't willing to give up my 8:30 bedtime while everything was so overwhelming. But, now that my school year ended, I'm hoping to make a blogger come back. Other than going to the CVS Minute Clinic for an ear infection (mine, not LF's), blogging was first on my list for summer vacation. I'm feeling a little rusty, so hang in there with me while I get my writing legs back.
All in all, LF is turning into an amazing little man. He does new "tricks" often. The latest: turning back to belly in his crib, over and over again. Too bad this is often when he is supposed to be sleeping! He smiles, laughs, and plays his days away. He loves to "talk," grasp things, play with new toys, touch and explore faces, and watch the world with wonder. He is close to sitting on his own, and is loving daycare, despite being sick a lot (more on that later).
The transition back to work went better than expected, and actually helped me get over the hump with my postpartum depression. I missed LF every day, but having a piece of my pre-mommy identity back was incredibly good for me. Selfish or not, I know I improved enormously in the last few months. Of course, the series of colds and viruses that have plagued LF make me feel very guilty. Luckily, there's no choice in the matter. Both KG and I have to work for our financial health, so I can only beat myself up so much about it. He's building immunity, right?
Speaking of building immunity...it feels as though I've been building some of my own lately.
There have been several moments since LF was born that I've said, "I'm the worst person to be his mother." That might sound awful considering what it took to get LF in the first place. But, since he was born, I have discovered parts of myself more vulnerable and raw than I ever knew existed. Although I theoretically knew motherhood was a tough job and unexpected things would happen (babies get sick, babies cry, babies do things that are unpredictable) I did not know when I was pregnant that I would often be unable to emotionally process those things without completely losing it. Seriously, I see moms who can let all those things roll off their backs without ridiculous amounts of worry or anxiety and I am green with envy. I on the other hand often freak out. Actually, not just often: ALL THE TIME. Illnesses, sleep disturbances, eating, reflux, you name it. Something with LF throws me and I can't eat, sleep, or smile. So, I get these moments when I feel like LF deserves a different mom. One who won't turn into a neurotic mess at every sneeze and sniffle. One who is a pillar of strength all the time. I know some moms like this, and I so wish I could channel their abilities.
Most recent example? LF ended up with a terrible virus that landed us in urgent care on a Sunday when his temp reached 104.4. During the week he battled this fever, he also had to have a chest xray, a botched blood draw, and more. I wanted to be strong for him. I really, really tried to put on a brave face and distract him with smiles and songs. But, there were many times when I could. not. do. it. Instead, I wept right along with him and had to lean on my mom (who just moved here with my dad from Los Angeles! OMG!). At one point, I asked a nurse in his pediatrician's office whether my crying was marked on a list to give nurses a head's up. She smiled kindly and told me that most mothers would be on a list if that was true.
Still, I know I take it too far. It is counterproductive and wastes time and energy I need. Plus, I'm going to be in this job for a long, long time. KG reminded me of lots of things to come: teething, injuries, teasing in school, heartbreaks. It is all coming, ready or not.
I know I need to toughen up. I know I can't continue to make myself sick with worry. It isn't good for me, KG, or LF. But, I'm just not there yet. I especially know that compared to some people very close to my heart, I have nothing to worry about. LF is a happy, (sometimes) healthy baby who is going through all the normal bumps in the road.
Perhaps with every new experience (both the scary kind and the wonderful kind) I'll build a thicker skin and a little more immunity.
Thursday, April 11, 2013
Days are running out
Since I last wrote, lots of changes have been under way. Bullets seem like the most efficient way to summarize the last month of my life:
• Little Fab's reflux FINALLY improved. After a consult with a pediatric gastroenterologist, we found that his dosage of medication was too low, and the way it was compounded affected the potency of the medication dramatically. So, after changing both, and over two weeks of waiting, LF can finally eat comfortably. It has only been in the last week or so that we've seen this dramatic change, which means I can feel okay about daycare being able to feed him. More on this below. I can not emphasize how horrible his feedings were before now. For all of March I was the only person who could feed him, because of his screams, back arching, writhing, etc. and I could not feed him in public. I felt so isolated and hopeless. I am beyond ecstatic that he is doing so much better. I'm praying it continues.
• I can't believe it but I head back to work on Tuesday. All of a sudden, the reality of balancing parenthood, marriage, and teaching is hitting me like a ton of bricks.
• We did two half days and one full day of daycare this week, in order to prepare for next week, when he will attend full-time. I managed to get less emotional about it than I thought I would. But, it still kills me to leave him, and I miss him when he's gone. The test days went well, so here's hoping it stays that way.
• My PPD hit a pretty bad low during March. After weekly sessions with my therapist, some medication adjustments, and LF's improvement, I am finally feeling better. I must admit though, I feel a bit resentful (of myself I suppose) that so much of my leave was emotionally difficult for me. I won't dwell on this, but it seems as though as soon as I started to really enjoy motherhood, I'm back to work.
• My parents are moving here, cross country, to be closer to LF! I haven't lived in the same city as my parents since I was 18! Holy sh*t!
• For some reason the email notifications about comments went to my spam folder for my last entry! I'm sorry it took me so long to approve them. They are all set now.
• New LF pics are up! Enjoy!
I hope to be back to blogging more regularly, once I'm in a rhythm at work. I have a lot on my mind, and have had no chance to work it through here. I miss writing and have made a vow to myself to get back to it, one way or another.
• Little Fab's reflux FINALLY improved. After a consult with a pediatric gastroenterologist, we found that his dosage of medication was too low, and the way it was compounded affected the potency of the medication dramatically. So, after changing both, and over two weeks of waiting, LF can finally eat comfortably. It has only been in the last week or so that we've seen this dramatic change, which means I can feel okay about daycare being able to feed him. More on this below. I can not emphasize how horrible his feedings were before now. For all of March I was the only person who could feed him, because of his screams, back arching, writhing, etc. and I could not feed him in public. I felt so isolated and hopeless. I am beyond ecstatic that he is doing so much better. I'm praying it continues.
• I can't believe it but I head back to work on Tuesday. All of a sudden, the reality of balancing parenthood, marriage, and teaching is hitting me like a ton of bricks.
• We did two half days and one full day of daycare this week, in order to prepare for next week, when he will attend full-time. I managed to get less emotional about it than I thought I would. But, it still kills me to leave him, and I miss him when he's gone. The test days went well, so here's hoping it stays that way.
• My PPD hit a pretty bad low during March. After weekly sessions with my therapist, some medication adjustments, and LF's improvement, I am finally feeling better. I must admit though, I feel a bit resentful (of myself I suppose) that so much of my leave was emotionally difficult for me. I won't dwell on this, but it seems as though as soon as I started to really enjoy motherhood, I'm back to work.
• My parents are moving here, cross country, to be closer to LF! I haven't lived in the same city as my parents since I was 18! Holy sh*t!
• For some reason the email notifications about comments went to my spam folder for my last entry! I'm sorry it took me so long to approve them. They are all set now.
• New LF pics are up! Enjoy!
I hope to be back to blogging more regularly, once I'm in a rhythm at work. I have a lot on my mind, and have had no chance to work it through here. I miss writing and have made a vow to myself to get back to it, one way or another.
Friday, March 8, 2013
In and Out of the Fog
I'm here. Well, I should say that I'm not "here" (as in on the blog) but I am here, as in alive and breathing.
Where have I been? There are a few different parts to that answer.
1. Little Fab has only been cat-napping for the last month or so. Seriously, this kid is like a timer - 30-45 minutes, and then WIDE AWAKE. That's barely enough time to eat, use the bathroom, and make a phone call or wash dishes. But, if he is in bed with me, I get about 2 hours. Since I can not sleep during the day (did I pass this gene to my son?) I rest and breathe. But, if I move an inch he stirs. So, I've gotten good at surfing the web one-handed from my phone, or reading a book over his shoulder. While this isn't ideal, it is a good excuse to relax. It's also an excuse to cuddle with my boy, which is a kind of closeness I really need right now. After two months of struggling to continue the minimal nursing I was able to do (and yes, I tried EVERYTHING to get my boobs to cooperate), I finally threw in the towel. By the end, LF would only feed for 2-3 minutes at a time before he got so frustrated he would cry, so these naps are some of our only times to cuddle.
2. LF's reflux continues to be incredibly stressful. Although we have seen *some* inconsistent improvement, his feedings involve lots of time, struggle, and tears for him and for me. We have been on two different meds and three different formulas so far. We try different positions for eating and sleeping, singing to him, distracting him, etc. and still he struggles to comfortably eat. To boot, he also has ASTOUNDING gas and that also makes him squirm and cry during feedings. It also interferes with his ability to nap and stay asleep at night. As he gets bigger, we hope this will improve, but in the meantime we made an appointment with a pediatric gastroenterologist for the end of the month. As you can imagine, by the end of the day (especially one of his bad days) I am completely spent. I can barely muster the energy to chat with KG on some days.
3. This PPD thing is very up and down, and completely dependent on how LF is doing. I find his good days are my good days, and his bad ones are my bad ones.
On the upside, LF is beautiful, strong, and healthy (other than the reflux). Above, you'll see a page where I've added a couple of pictures. He really smiles and stares at us now, which makes things a bit easier. I can't tell you what a relief it is to see that little smile after a long, long night. Somehow he knows just when I need to see it.
I won't lie. Right now it is really hard to read blogs of new moms who are in bliss. The ones where babies take long naps, eat peacefully, and can be taken anywhere at any time. Someday I hope that isn't the case, but right now it is. I am deeply grateful for the baby I have, but he is a complicated little man that I'm still working on figuring out.
Off to attempt another 35 minute nap...
Where have I been? There are a few different parts to that answer.
1. Little Fab has only been cat-napping for the last month or so. Seriously, this kid is like a timer - 30-45 minutes, and then WIDE AWAKE. That's barely enough time to eat, use the bathroom, and make a phone call or wash dishes. But, if he is in bed with me, I get about 2 hours. Since I can not sleep during the day (did I pass this gene to my son?) I rest and breathe. But, if I move an inch he stirs. So, I've gotten good at surfing the web one-handed from my phone, or reading a book over his shoulder. While this isn't ideal, it is a good excuse to relax. It's also an excuse to cuddle with my boy, which is a kind of closeness I really need right now. After two months of struggling to continue the minimal nursing I was able to do (and yes, I tried EVERYTHING to get my boobs to cooperate), I finally threw in the towel. By the end, LF would only feed for 2-3 minutes at a time before he got so frustrated he would cry, so these naps are some of our only times to cuddle.
2. LF's reflux continues to be incredibly stressful. Although we have seen *some* inconsistent improvement, his feedings involve lots of time, struggle, and tears for him and for me. We have been on two different meds and three different formulas so far. We try different positions for eating and sleeping, singing to him, distracting him, etc. and still he struggles to comfortably eat. To boot, he also has ASTOUNDING gas and that also makes him squirm and cry during feedings. It also interferes with his ability to nap and stay asleep at night. As he gets bigger, we hope this will improve, but in the meantime we made an appointment with a pediatric gastroenterologist for the end of the month. As you can imagine, by the end of the day (especially one of his bad days) I am completely spent. I can barely muster the energy to chat with KG on some days.
3. This PPD thing is very up and down, and completely dependent on how LF is doing. I find his good days are my good days, and his bad ones are my bad ones.
On the upside, LF is beautiful, strong, and healthy (other than the reflux). Above, you'll see a page where I've added a couple of pictures. He really smiles and stares at us now, which makes things a bit easier. I can't tell you what a relief it is to see that little smile after a long, long night. Somehow he knows just when I need to see it.
I won't lie. Right now it is really hard to read blogs of new moms who are in bliss. The ones where babies take long naps, eat peacefully, and can be taken anywhere at any time. Someday I hope that isn't the case, but right now it is. I am deeply grateful for the baby I have, but he is a complicated little man that I'm still working on figuring out.
Off to attempt another 35 minute nap...
Saturday, January 26, 2013
Supposed to...
I was inspired by the courage of MissConception and Jen, as well as the encouragement of Cristy to write this post. If you are in a bad place with TTC right now, please skip this entry. I wrote it at a low point and although I have made some breakthroughs since writing it, I feel like I still want to post it. I will follow up with a post about my recent improvement.
______________________________
I have been living with the words "supposed to" a lot since Little Fab came home. It seems that when you are a new mother, and especially an infertile new mother, there are a lot of "supposed tos." I am supposed to be working towards getting my newborn on a schedule. I'm supposed to have enough breastmilk to feed him. I am supposed to be able to gently rock him to sleep at the first yawn. I have not been able to consistently accomplish any of those things and therefore I'm generally feeling like a failure at all of this. I have this beautiful, happy, healthy baby and I feel like I'm coming apart some days. Not all days, but too many.
I am also supposed to be flooded with joy. I am supposed to have natural instincts about all things newborn. I am supposed to be loving every minute. But I'm not. I'm trying really hard to do all of those things, but I am struggling. I can't seem to let go of what I thought this would all be like, and the reality of how difficult being a new mother is. After all, I tried for over two years to have LF. I should have known what I was getting into right? I should be grateful for every sleepless night and every cry from the crib. So what the hell is wrong with me? Why am I dissolving into tears several times a week?
Mainly I think it comes from being overwhelmed by nearly everything right now. The difficulty I had with breastfeeding (still hanging in there with nursing before every bottle of formula), the lack of any rhyme or reason to LF's voracious appetite (all those rumors about formula babies sleeping more is bullshit in this house), the lack of sleep (this cannot be understated), the lack of quality time with KG or with myself for that matter, and decisions about EVERYTHING (from bottles to parenting philosphies). Did I also mention that I've not yet spent a day completely alone with LF?* The day KG went back to work my parents arrived. How the hell am I going to do everything alone? Why can't I manage to return phone calls and emails? Why can't I figure out how to take a shower every day? But when I really think about it, the feeling that bothers me most is the immense guilt I have about how much I miss being pregnant. It was a perfect, happy time for me, and now it feels a lifetime away.
I've been leaning on my friends (with and without children) a lot lately. Sometimes for advice, sometimes for the feeling of normalcy I get when I am around them. They have been my lifeline and I'm so grateful to all of them for the meals, hugs, and visits. But, as we head into month 2, the visits and calls have slowed, as one would expect. However, my desperation for the connection grows each day.
Before delivery, I had no idea that I would feel like such a failure. Because I can't figure out his eating patterns. Because I can't tell one cry from another very well. Because I can't seem to help him sleep more than a 2 hour stretch at a time. Because I can't decide whether we should be pushing him towards a schedule or just following his lead. Aren't I supposed to know all of these things as his mother?
That isn't to say there aren't moments when I look at LF and am in awe: of how gorgeous he is, how much of a person he looks like already, even at 4 weeks, how fascinated he is with light and patterns. Moments when he sleeps on my chest or stares at my face make me melt. I love this child. I also watch KG with him and am consumed with warmth - KG is madly in love with his son, which makes me fall more madly in love with him. But then I feel even worse, like I'm not authentically feeling what I should for my baby. I worry that I'm letting KG down because I am so needy and emotional these days. I want to be as happy as he is, and I'm just not there yet.
So, it seems like my history of depression and anxiety has reared its ugly head. I knew I was at high risk for PPD but man, I was hoping to dodge the bullet. Therefore, I'm seeking help. I made an appointment with my therapist. I'm reminded by people close to me that I can't be a good mom if I don't take care of myself, mentally and physically. I want to be the mother LF deserves. I want to be the wife KG deserves. I want to feel like myself and enjoy this time, instead of feeling like I need to survive it.
So, right or wrong, that's where I'm at. I'm sure some people reading this will want to flame me for feeling this way when so many are still struggling to have their first baby. Of course, as an infertile, I might have felt the same way before I was actually living this. But, this space is my own to get and give support and it will remain so, even post baby.
*I have since been spending lots of alone time with LF.
______________________________
I have been living with the words "supposed to" a lot since Little Fab came home. It seems that when you are a new mother, and especially an infertile new mother, there are a lot of "supposed tos." I am supposed to be working towards getting my newborn on a schedule. I'm supposed to have enough breastmilk to feed him. I am supposed to be able to gently rock him to sleep at the first yawn. I have not been able to consistently accomplish any of those things and therefore I'm generally feeling like a failure at all of this. I have this beautiful, happy, healthy baby and I feel like I'm coming apart some days. Not all days, but too many.
I am also supposed to be flooded with joy. I am supposed to have natural instincts about all things newborn. I am supposed to be loving every minute. But I'm not. I'm trying really hard to do all of those things, but I am struggling. I can't seem to let go of what I thought this would all be like, and the reality of how difficult being a new mother is. After all, I tried for over two years to have LF. I should have known what I was getting into right? I should be grateful for every sleepless night and every cry from the crib. So what the hell is wrong with me? Why am I dissolving into tears several times a week?
Mainly I think it comes from being overwhelmed by nearly everything right now. The difficulty I had with breastfeeding (still hanging in there with nursing before every bottle of formula), the lack of any rhyme or reason to LF's voracious appetite (all those rumors about formula babies sleeping more is bullshit in this house), the lack of sleep (this cannot be understated), the lack of quality time with KG or with myself for that matter, and decisions about EVERYTHING (from bottles to parenting philosphies). Did I also mention that I've not yet spent a day completely alone with LF?* The day KG went back to work my parents arrived. How the hell am I going to do everything alone? Why can't I manage to return phone calls and emails? Why can't I figure out how to take a shower every day? But when I really think about it, the feeling that bothers me most is the immense guilt I have about how much I miss being pregnant. It was a perfect, happy time for me, and now it feels a lifetime away.
I've been leaning on my friends (with and without children) a lot lately. Sometimes for advice, sometimes for the feeling of normalcy I get when I am around them. They have been my lifeline and I'm so grateful to all of them for the meals, hugs, and visits. But, as we head into month 2, the visits and calls have slowed, as one would expect. However, my desperation for the connection grows each day.
Before delivery, I had no idea that I would feel like such a failure. Because I can't figure out his eating patterns. Because I can't tell one cry from another very well. Because I can't seem to help him sleep more than a 2 hour stretch at a time. Because I can't decide whether we should be pushing him towards a schedule or just following his lead. Aren't I supposed to know all of these things as his mother?
That isn't to say there aren't moments when I look at LF and am in awe: of how gorgeous he is, how much of a person he looks like already, even at 4 weeks, how fascinated he is with light and patterns. Moments when he sleeps on my chest or stares at my face make me melt. I love this child. I also watch KG with him and am consumed with warmth - KG is madly in love with his son, which makes me fall more madly in love with him. But then I feel even worse, like I'm not authentically feeling what I should for my baby. I worry that I'm letting KG down because I am so needy and emotional these days. I want to be as happy as he is, and I'm just not there yet.
So, it seems like my history of depression and anxiety has reared its ugly head. I knew I was at high risk for PPD but man, I was hoping to dodge the bullet. Therefore, I'm seeking help. I made an appointment with my therapist. I'm reminded by people close to me that I can't be a good mom if I don't take care of myself, mentally and physically. I want to be the mother LF deserves. I want to be the wife KG deserves. I want to feel like myself and enjoy this time, instead of feeling like I need to survive it.
So, right or wrong, that's where I'm at. I'm sure some people reading this will want to flame me for feeling this way when so many are still struggling to have their first baby. Of course, as an infertile, I might have felt the same way before I was actually living this. But, this space is my own to get and give support and it will remain so, even post baby.
*I have since been spending lots of alone time with LF.
Thursday, January 3, 2013
Holy Shit. I'm a Mom.
 |
| Meet Little Fab...aka My Son |
As much as I thought life was nuts before I went into labor on Christmas Eve, I had no idea how crazy it was about to get. Although finishing up at work before my leave was stressful, it seems ridiculous now to call myself "busy" when all I had to do was work. I also had no idea how little I knew about the reality of becoming, then being, a mom. In other words, holy shit my world has been upside down since the day LF were born.
While I have fresh memories, let's recount events. I started having irregular back contractions 2 days before Christmas. These were painful but unpredictable, so we had to wait it out. Unfortunately, by the time they were regular, on Christmas Eve, I was already 2 days sleep deprived! Although I had hoped to avoid an IV, epidural, etc. I knew I needed help in order to make it through delivery. Amazing how quickly a "birth plan" becomes a flexible idea. I ended up with an epidural due to how long I had already been working through the contractions. Honestly, in the middle of labor, I wondered how on earth women make it through med-free deliveries. My hat is 100% off to those who can do it. I learned that I am not one of those women. I mean, I had an epidural and I still felt as though I was never going to make it.
Labor took a long time, and I pushed for almost 3 hours, but LF arrived at 1:29 PM on Christmas Day. He was a hefty 8 pounds, 6 ounces, and 20 inches long. The OB who delivered me was amazing (I like him better than my actual OB!) as were the nurses. He really helped me avoid bad tearing. In the end, only a one degree tear and some minor other ones. Physically, I'm feeling pretty good, other than serious swelling in my feet and legs and some tenderness in the nether regions.
In the hospital, all was well with breastfeeding. But, since coming home, we have had a lot of problems with nursing that made caring for LF really stressful. We aren't 100% sure why, but my milk still has not really come in (10 days later) and my little man quickly let us know that colostrum was NOT going to be enough by about day 3 and a half. He was really frantically hungry and unable to be consoled. We really struggled with what to do, but he lost more than 10% of his body weight and were advised to begin supplementing with formula. For those who instantly are about to criticize our choice, you should have been in our apartment the first three days. He would scream frantically every half hour, despite being nursed as often as he demanded. It was heartbreaking and I began to have a really serious issue with my anxiety. No one could function and even KG started to hit his breaking point.
Now, with nursing, pumping (achingly small amounts) and formula, LF is gaining weight and is MUCH more happy and calm. The last couple of days have been much better. The milk issue is a major disappointment for me and the theories are: PCOS rearing its ugly head, anxiety, some medication I take, and lack of sleep. I'm still hoping at some point this will happen. But, I'm also coming to terms with letting go of control and understanding this may be a formula fed baby, despite our efforts. It's just frustrating - first with infertility (failure of my ovaries) followed by failure of my boobs.
What's been even more challenging is the adjustment to being a parent. We are totally in love with our baby, but really, no one can prepare you for the changes that come with bringing a newborn home. It's like there is no normal right now, and everything we took for granted (showers, eating and sleeping at the same time as KG, making phone calls, etc.) are all actual goals for the day. I'm not saying I resent any of this. We are exceptionally lucky to be where we are. But, I have found it difficult in these first days to be the glowing picture of motherhood you see on TV. Instead, I relish in the moments when I change out of pjs and into actual clothes for the day.
KG is really good at seeing the big picture: the newborn days are limited. There will be smiles, giggles, fun activities, and much more interaction as LF grows. But, I get a little caught up in the hour-to-hour exhaustion of right now. KG has always been an amazing partner, but he has also quickly turned into an AMAZING father. He has been there for both of us every single second, without fail. He never ceases to amaze me.
I have several posts in mind, including one about the future of this blog, in the works. But, forgive me as I stumble around for a while.
Edited to add: MissConception's post about post partum says a lot of things I feel much more eloquently than I can right now. It's amazing and real.
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