Pendulum

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?

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?

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?

A New Rhythm

Something I learned right away when I was on maternity leave was that being a SAHM was WAY harder than working outside the home. At least for me it was. I have nothing but respect for those women who stay home. My hat is off to you!

Although it is not a choice for us for financial reasons, I enjoy being a working mother most of the time.  It is something that is really important to me as a part of my identity, and I think also helps me to be a balanced person. I'm lucky that I am in a profession that allows me time off for summer, and two other longish school breaks during the year. In a way, I get the best of both worlds. I get to pursue my career, and still have stretches of time that are devoted to my boy.

But, I must admit, I got nervous as summer approached. I think whenever I realize I am going to be home full time, I flash back to how hard LF's infant days were. Now, he is no longer an infant, but the change in routine always throws me for a loop for a while. I know that as a mother I am supposed to want to spend every moment with my kid, but I'll say it: sometimes it makes me anxious. It is no secret I am not the world's most confident mother, and being someone who THRIVES on routine and predictability doesn't exactly make me excited for big changes. But, as the season got started, I have to say I'm really enjoying the copious amounts of time LF and I are spending together.

In the last few weeks, I have really started to see some things I miss while I'm in my classroom. I'm almost embarrassed to say, I've learned a lot about him in a short time, that I didn't know before. I mean, when our time together is limited to a couple of hours in the afternoon and weekends, you miss some things.

Good thing I'm a fast learner. I've learned how to head off some major tantrums (who knew holding the bubble wand could cause this?), what time he gets antsy to get out of the house, and how he needed to be taught how to play in sand among other things. I've watched him gain confidence on the playground and noticed he is picking up vocabulary at an astonishing rate. But, if I wasn't home to hear him mimic me, or help him climb a ladder structure, I would miss it. It just isn't the same as being filled in by his grandparents at the end of a long work day.

What makes me heart squeeze even more is the growth in attachment and bond we've had since mid-June. I mean, he always prefers KG and I to everyone else, and he always gives kisses and hugs. But, lately, there is just a deeper bond between us. He will more openly seek me out when he falls, calls my name from the back seat, plays a new game of jumping in my lap, and eagerly rubs noses before bed. It is a subtle difference, but it is there. I know some of you might be thinking, "So what? He's your baby? Don't all babies do that?" Well, LF isn't the most cuddly of all kids and is in CONSTANT motion. I feel very special when this kid chooses me to be his most sweet self with.

There is also a level of sadness to this: will the closeness decrease when I return to work in September? Will he remember all our afternoons taking walks in our new neighborhood? Will he still ask for me during the day, when I'm not his primary weekday caregiver? I'm feeling some serious guilt here that so much of this information about LF is new to me.

Do you have some working mom guilt?

Picky or problem?

I visited a friend with a newborn the other day and we discussed the feeling of isolation that can come when you are home with a baby. The demands, the worries, the sleep deprivation, and the lack of social contact are intense on those first months, and I was lending support with as much listening (okay, and some advice) as I could. What I didn't want to tell her is that there are still moments when you have that overwhelming alone feeling.

I have some friends who know this feeling well. For whatever reason, your child may have an issue that puts them outside of the norm in one way or another. For some children, this is a more substantial challenge (like an obvious medical or developmental issue) and for others it may be something more subtle. Although the subtle issues with children may not be life threatening, they can still throw us newbie parents for a loop.

Lately, the issue that is making me feel alone and worried is LF's picky eating.

I should say first that LF has an incredibly stubborn (I mean independent! Assertive! Intelligent!) personality and this finickiness affects not only his food choices but also his choices about which room he plays in, which books he reads, whether he wants to go inside or outside, which direction we walk on the street, etc. The boy has an opinion about nearly everything. You also may remember that the beginning of his eating career did not go smoothly (breastfeeding disasters, medicated reflux until 9 months, and an unenthusiastic transition to solid foods).

Since we started solids, he has never been a kid to dive in head first with foods. He is very cautious about new foods in general. However, he used to eventually try something and add to his repertoire, even if it wasn't kale and quinoa. More like meatballs and chicken nuggets. I even have photographic evidence of him enjoying messy foods like pasta bolognese, which he currently won't touch. Now, it is rare for us to get him to try and like a new food, and even more rare for him to like something multiple times, and not just once. But, what has me most concerned is that over time, the number of foods he will eat has actually decreased. Foods he used to enjoy he is now refusing and the number of foods consumed overall is quite small. When I Google "toddler food ideas" I know instantly that he will refuse almost all of them. I am beginning to think his picky eating is now morphong into "problem eating."

But, it is really hard for me to tell what is a real issue with food, and what is he taking as an opportunity to assert his independence. I admit it - I get upset when he lets food fall out of his mouth or throws it on the floor. I get mad when he refuses things I know he likes, even when he is so hungry that he is going nuts. Sometimes I am more successful at being casual about all of that, and sometimes I lose it. But, he doesn't just do this with me. He also is difficult with his grandparents (who are his main caregivers during the school year) and his father. He can sometimes surprise us in social situations, but at home it seems to be the worst.

Then there is that alone part. It comes in when I see other mothers able to easily hand their child a sandwich, which is then quickly devoured. Or, when I talk about this issue with someone who responds with, "My child will eat anything!! I can't keep enough food in the house!" I know every child has *some* issue they are dealing with - sleep, behavior, whatever. This just happens to be LF's.

But, I just feel like there is something I am doing wrong with LF that is making him so difficult at meal times. All I know is that something needs to change.

Am I creating a monster and having my emotion feed into his control issues? Or is there a real issue to push with my pediatrician? (We've discussed his pickiness before and they never seem very concerned.)

What parenting issue made you feel alone?

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

A test

It's been a while.

I've been craving this space. Needing to talk. Needing to discuss. Needing to vent at times.

I've made no time to blog since returning to work in September. There's always something else to do in any free moment I have. Grading papers. Doing errands. Being a mom, wife, daughter...

But today, I'm making time.

Today, I have to get this out: I feel like I'm failing.

Being LF's mother is incredible and wonderful, and all of those things. It is also, like any other parent would say, a challenge. A test. A test that I don't always pass.

LF is funny, engaging, smart, and adorable. He is also stubborn, opinionated, and unpredictable. He can be smiles and giggles in one moment, and turn on a dime the next. He puts his arms up to be held, and then instantly wriggles and makes his escape. He sits in the highchair, takes a few bites of a favorite food, then swipes everything to the floor and refuses to eat. Then, there are the screams. The whines and the screams.

In those moments, my frustration bubbles over quickly. I feel myself getting upset. I take deep breaths, walk away, all the things you are supposed to do...but it comes down to me being mad at a baby for not cooperating. Seriously? Who expects a baby to cooperate? Me.

That seems ridiculous.

I feel like other mothers know what to do. Other mothers have perspective. Other mothers have understanding and patience. I just end up cursing myself for not being able to soothe him, the way a good mom should. Sometimes KG takes over, and sometimes the moment passes, we switch activities, and all is well again. But, the situation ends up stressful for all of us.

It isn't every day. I could write a million blog posts about all of the pleasant days we have together. But it is enough days that I'm thinking it is something for me to focus on changing about myself.

How do other moms do it? 

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...

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.

Deposits and Withdrawals

Someone once described relationships (familial, romantic, and friendly) as a bank account. Sometimes you make a lot of deposits (giving ample time, attention, and care to others) and sometimes you make a lot of withdrawals (leaning on those close to you). I've always considered myself someone who really tried to make more deposits than withdrawals. Or at least made it 50/50.

But, since LF was born, I know I have been withdrawing A LOT. More than during periods of anxiety or depression. More than during infertility treatment. I've been relying on those close to me for support and understanding more than I ever have. While I was in the thick of the newborn stage, I didn't really think about this too much. I was consumed with day-to-day survival. Everything else, even basic showering and eating needs, took a back burner.

Now that LF is 6 months old, and I can function at about 75% of what my pre-baby capacity was, this has been on my mind a lot. I've noticed changes in many of my friendships. Some obvious, some subtle. But mostly, I'm feeling some distance from many of my friends. There aren't as many phone calls. There aren't as many visits. There aren't as many texts. Lately, it's been making me feel pretty sad. It is as though I made too many withdrawals in the early days of LF's arrival.

I mean, some of this is normal. We all have busy lives (with or without children) and as we age our jobs and personal lives get more and more demanding. It's also incredibly difficult for KG and I to do spontaneous things these days. Everything runs on baby standard time, and last minute cancellations are pretty common due to illness, etc. Some friends are wonderfully understanding about this. They roll with it, and know that it usually evens out in the end, because many of them are in the same boat.

However, some friends have a hard time understanding that it isn't as easy as, "Just take the baby with you!"

There are naps and feedings to consider, as well as certain times of day that bring out the best and worst in LF. Additionally, with LF's reflux, feeding him outside of our home was a nightmare for a long time, and I'm still carrying some scars from that. (We are just trying out a day trip with the baby this weekend for the first time and its stressing me out already.) I know some babies can sleep anywhere at anytime, but LF is not that baby. He will knock out in the stroller or carseat sometimes, but not reliably. We want to encourage him to be flexible, and we do try to sleep him in various places (bringing the pack n' play to friends' homes, etc.) but it doesn't always work, and then we have a very fussy baby on our hands and the overnights suffer as well. The trade-offs are sometimes worth it, but sometimes not.

The longer I am LF's mother, the longer I feel like he was made this way. Even as a newborn, he had really specific, and lets' face it: high maintenance, needs we had to meet in any way we can. He is who he is, and our job is to do what is best for him, at all times. It seems selfish to make my baby upset or uncomfortable because I want to drink wine with my girlfriends.

The hard part is the judgement I perceive when we have to say no to things, especially evening events that conflict with bedtime. I feel like sometimes we, LF's parents, are seen as the problem. That somehow we made him into a baby that has difficulty with feedings, sleeping, etc. That somehow if we were more "this" or more "that" then we would have made an incredibly easy infant that we could tote along at any time. KG recently articulated it really well. He said, "LF isn't a piece of luggage we can bring wherever and whenever we want. He's a person." He's also a person who can't yet speak for himself. He relies on us to intuitively make decisions we feel would make him the most comfortable.

But the other side of that coin is that it has been a long time between visits with some people close to us, and I'm sure they get as frustrated by that as we do.

I think it is probably time for me to start making more deposits into those relationships. Lately I've been reaching out more to friends to visit and spend time together, with and without LF. KG is often willing to hang with the baby while I hang out with a friend. We've gotten a sitter, and taken advantage of my mother's help, to have a dinner out here and there. We're even taking a trip to NJ to see some friends in a couple of weeks. Our first trip with LF!

Socially, we're slowly starting to make our way back into the land of the living.

I just hope we aren't overdrawn.

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. 

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...

Rollercoaster

Thank you so much for the responses to this post and to Mel at Stirrup Queens for choosing it for the Roundup. I feel really supported by the comments and I'm glad it resonated with so many of you. I actually didn't receive one flame comment, and for that I am truly grateful.

Only a few days after I wrote the last post, my chin went back under water. I must have jinxed myself, because just when I thought I was feeling secure, I lost it. There were entire days I spent crying. There were moments when I literally felt numb as I walked through my day. There was a week-long visit with my sister (and a blizzard!) that I was only half present for. There was a dinner with girlfriends that I held back tears through. It was during that time that I realized that PPD is going to be with me for a bit. It may not be there every day, but it's standing right behind me for now.

It seems that my mood is completely linked to how LF's day goes. He recently got diagnosed with reflux and now that we are treating it, it seems as though a lot of his crying, irritability, and fussiness was linked to it. Poor kid, no wonder he was so difficult to soothe. But, in the days (weeks) leading up to his diagnosis and for several days after we started medication, he was inconsolable. He cried on and off all day and night. He slept fitfully in short spurts. He was just in constant need, and I felt like I was failing him because I didn't know what was wrong or how to help. I was a mess. He was a mess. As you can imagine, this made life incredibly stressful in the Fabulousness household, and poor KG was left to pick up the pieces.

Since getting treated, he has been much more comfortable and therefore much easier to soothe. KG and I are also figuring out more about him as a person - his cues for fatigue and hunger, his need for swaddling when he's overstimulated, and the difference between his cries. I've even managed to get him to take more naps (although he only sleeps for 30-45 mins at a time). Now if we could get him to do longer stretches overnight, THAT would be something (Advice about 7 week olds here please?). He also found the beginnings of his smile (a bit late) and is starting to focus on our faces more. Finally, I am starting to see my little man's (complicated, cute, fussy, funny) personality, and therefore I feel a little more secure and grounded. More frequent visits with my therapist and a tweak to my medication have also helped push me in the right direction. Not to say that there aren't bad days, but, on his good days, I feel optimistic.

Stay tuned.

Turning a Corner

After I wrote the last post, I had a breakthrough moment.

That day, I spent the entire morning trying to get Little Fab to nap. After all, everything I read said that newborns should be sleeping A LOT. However, LF does not sleep A LOT. (Although he has teased us with a few 3 hour stretches in the last few days. Trying not to jinx it.) But, being the rookie I am, I really, really thought that I needed to enforce a nap. I shushed, rocked, fed, changed, and swaddled him. Then, I begged and pleaded with him. Through it all, LF fussed, cried, and generally expressed how pissed off he was at my trying to get him to do something he was not willing to do. By the time my mom arrived at my house (she was here visiting from California for 2 weeks), I was in tears.

"Newborns are supposed to sleep a lot!"
"I should be able to get my son to sleep!"
"I'm a terrible mother!"
"I can't handle this!"
"I haven't slept for a month!"

After calming me down, she gently took LF out of my arms and sent me to take a shower. After sobbing in the shower as well, and reflecting on how many days I had ended up in tears for one reason or another, I decided to actually listen to some of the advice my mom offered.

It sounds so simple when I write it here, but somehow it took all that strife for this to sink in. She said that no matter how much I want LF to be on my schedule, I'm really on his. I can set up conditions for him to sleep: holding him, feeding him, changing him, swaddling him, and providing white noise and a dimly lit room. But, if he doesn't want to sleep, he isn't going to sleep. Spending hours and hours driving myself nuts wasn't worth it, because he still wasn't sleeping and I was a mess. Instead, she said, I need to go with his flow and follow his lead. If he won't sleep, play or put him in the car and go somewhere. She promised I would feel better and things would go more smoothly if I didn't try so hard to impose control on the situation.

Anyone who knows me knows what a difficult pill that was for me to swallow. I crave predictability, routine, and control over my life. I research EVERYTHING. I plan out nearly every move I make in both my personal and professional life in a deliberate manner. This is my go-to coping mechanism. In fact, the hardest part of my adjustment to parenthood has been the unpredictability of each day. Hell, of each hour.

Now, I don't always listen to my mother's advice. I'm sure she would say I poo-poo it often. But, what she said made sense. It dawned on me that maybe part of the point of this whole experience is for me to start letting go of needing so much control and go for the ride a bit.

I won't lie - that scares the shit out of me. But really, I have no choice. I have to change the way I approach my days with LF, or else both of us will be miserable. So, I've made an effort over the last several days to let Little Fab lead. When he's awake, I go with it. When he naps, I usually use the time to be productive, but sometimes rest. (Damn, I wish I could nap during the day.) As a result, I've been crying less, he's been napping a little bit more, and life is generally more pleasant. I've also noticed that I enjoy my time with him more - we do tummy time, "play," and hang out together while we figure each other out. Although he continues to have fussy periods throughout the day and night, I do feel like I know him a little better, which also helps me soothe him.

I've also been considering the name of this blog. I was talking to KG about how I wasn't sure if the name "Waiting for Little Feet" was appropriate anymore, considering we were successful in bringing Little Fab into the world. But, he thought otherwise. He said, "Now it just means something different. Instead of waiting for those feet to arrive, now we are waiting to see what those feet will do." So, the name remains, as will the blog. I'm not sure how the content will evolve. But, this blog was never completely about infertility, nor will it be completely about parenting. It will just be.

"So, will you stay home?"

I have been asked this question a lot lately, mostly at work. For reference, my school is in a very wealthy suburb of Boston, and for the most part, women (although we have a couple of stay at home fathers) stay home when they have children. Not to say there aren't any working moms, but even those women usually stayed home for some extended period of time when they had babies. Additionally, there has been a series of teachers at school who quit after their maternity leave. So, I get it. They are asking a logical question. Often, it is even followed by a heartfelt expression of how disappointing it would be if I did stay home. It is meant to be an earnest question and one that is even a compliment.

But, here's the rub.

It's starting to become a painful topic, and one that brings regret and guilt to the surface. For KG and I, it is just not an option for one of us to stay home. Financially, it would be disastrous. I've discussed here before how we have been on our own (money-wise) since we were 18 and each brought some debt to our relationship. In the 11+ years we have been together, our debt grew. We have spent the last several years chipping away at it with moderate success, both working full-time, medium-ish income jobs. But, there is still a long way to go, and that isn't even touching my education debt, which I'm pretty sure I'll have until I'm 80.

We are not lazy, careless, or extravagant people. We rent, we have taken one major vacation in over a decade, KG drives a '97 Camry, and I'm in an '03 CRV. High rollers over here. But, it seems like no matter how conservative we are, we can only get so far. There is no possibility of family help with things like a house, etc. It's just us, trying to make it work. So, living on one income just isn't an option. Do I regret not being more careful with money in my late teens and early/mid twenties? Yes. Do I wish one of us made a lot more money (i.e. went into a more lucrative career path?) Yes. But, we are where we are.

Even when I fantasize about being able to stay home, I get a crushing blow of reality. For example, I was in the car trying to imagine a scenario where it might work, i.e. "What if I never ate out again? What if we rented for another 5 years?" Then, it hit me. ALL of our benefits (medical, dental, retirement) are through my job. KG works for a small company that offers none of these. So, even if we figured out some hypothetical way to make being a stay at home parent work, it would not be me that got that opportunity. That brought a wave of sadness. This is a done deal.

The kicker is that BOTH of us would kill for the CHOICE to be a stay-at-home parent for any significant length of time. I've mentioned how head-over-heels in love with this baby KG is, and I'm pretty sure he would carry the baby and give birth himself if he could. He would be an incredible stay-at-home dad. And I have no idea how I'll feel during my maternity leave. Maybe I'll be dying to go back to work, or maybe I'll feel crushed at the thought. There is no way to predict that now, with no experience in this area. But given the current economy, and the lack of governmental support for new parents, this is the way it is. There is no choice for us.

Sometimes I think people (those I work with, and even some commenters on this blog) assume everyone has this choice. Some have even insinuated that I am selfish or strange for going back to work and leaving The Nugget in daycare (and with my father-in-law 2 days per week) this spring. I get those questions like, "Are you sure you want to do that? I would never leave my baby with strangers," and my heart sinks. They just don't know how lucky they are to be able to make that decision purely based on preference, and not on survival.

Is their perspective skewed? Don't most people have to work when they have kids? 

There's another layer to this. The infertile layer. I had to work for years to have this baby. We went through so much pain and disappointment to get this far. And yet, because of our financial situation, I am sacrificing some really important time with the baby. I suppose I am luckier than most - I get 8 to 10 weeks off in the summer to be with The Nugget. But still, it feels like after all we've been through, it feels like a loss to not get to be with him 100% of the time.

These are the times when I wish I had a rewind button and could make different choices at ages 20, 21, 22... which might have left us with more options. But, instead, I've got to come to terms with the place we are in, which compared to many isn't so bad. Right?