1

Dear Daughter: I’m Not Perfect

I know that, as your parent, there will be times I act like I know everything. And, until you become a teenager, you may even believe me. But I want to tell you a scary truth: I don’t.

I don’t always know the right thing to say to make you feel better. Or the right thing to do to keep you from getting hurt. I won’t always understand your frustrations or why something that seems silly to me means the world to you. But I promise that I will always try.

I will make mistakes. I can’t promise that I’ll never hurt you or let you down. Because I’m human. No matter how hard I try to do everything right, I will screw up sometimes. But I promise that I will always apologize when it’s appropriate.

There will be so many things I can’t protect you from in this life; so many things out of my control. There will be others who break your heart. You will undoubtedly have times that you don’t succeed no matter how hard you try. And I won’t be able to prevent that pain. But I promise I will be right beside you and there for you whenever you need me. I will always be there to help you dust yourself off and encourage you to keep going.

We will argue. We will become angry and frustrated with one another at times. We will wonder, at times, “what the hell is wrong with you???” But I promise I will always be there. I will always love you no matter what.

I’m not perfect. But my love for you is.

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3

Adults Work

When my daughter was born, I was fortunate enough to stay home with her for ten months. I had considered staying home with her permanently. And someone said to me “adults work.” I was told that raising my child wasn’t work, it was “playing with your kid all day.”

Let me be clear; I adore my daughter. She is my everything and I treasure every moment I have with her. But raising another human being is work. I’m now back at work full time due to circumstances and I can honestly say that raising my kid is harder. Because, if you’re doing it right, there is so much more to parenting besides “playing” with your kid.

Play is an essential part of childhood. It should be an essential part of adulthood, too but responsibilities often get in our way. That being said, yes, I play with my kid a lot. But that play serves a purpose greater than just seeing that infectious smile or hearing her laugh. It’s teaching her. It’s teaching her fine motor skills, walking, talking, what the proper words are for objects. It’s teaching her how to make things work, how to read a book. It’s teaching her wrong from right. Trust, love, respect. It is the most important job in the world. It’s Head, Shoulders, Knees and Toes. It’s where is your belly button? Point to mommy’s nose!

It’s reacting appropriately to negative behavior and raising a child you’ll be proud to send out into the world one day. It’s getting them to eat a balanced diet and take a bath. It’s knowing that sometimes you can’t be fun. Sometimes you have to say no and get a cup thrown at your head. And then address the issue of the cup being thrown at your head. Sometimes you’re the bad cop. And that’s certainly not fun.

It’s trying to get clothes on a person while they’re running away from you. It’s teaching another person where their toes are. And how to use the potty. And yes, watching your child learn and grow is rewarding and wonderful. But it’s still work. We don’t tell professional athletes that they don’t have a real job because what they do for a living is fun. And they get paid a ton of money for doing it! Being a parent is a full time job without a paycheck, without a lunch break and without a vacation plan.

I talk to other women I work with whose children are now all grown up. And they all say the same thing “I was lucky enough to stay home when my kids were little.” Times have changed and more often than not now, both parents need to work to make ends meet. But if it’s doable? I don’t see the downside to having a stay-at-home parent. In my opinion, it’s giving your child a major benefit. And it doesn’t make anyone less adult. Any parent who thinks a stay-at-home parent doesn’t work isn’t doing it right.

4

Struggling for Understanding

As I watch Hoarders and am given the motivation to clean up the toys that my daughter, the tornado, deposited throughout my entire apartment, I’m also struck with a painful realization.  I’m watching this episode about a woman in Hawaii, whose home is so cluttered, dirty and filled with roaches that she is at risk of having her children taken away from her.  But what strikes me so much about this isn’t the deplorable condition of her home or the risk to her children.  What strikes me is her husband, who is by her side, helping her clean up, helping her deal with the emotional and mental struggles that she is being faced with during the clean up process, who is going to counseling with her to help keep their family from ever being in that situation again.  I watch him cry for his wife and for her sickness, despite the enormous frustration that it’s caused him.  And I think, that is love.

There’s a lot I still struggle to understand about my own situation.  I have looked inside of myself and have faced the truth of my own flaws and shortcomings and looked at what I can do to try to become a better person.  I have come to terms with the disease that I was afflicted with after my child’s birth and I am proud of myself for how far I have come.  I believe that I’m strong, forgiving, loving and compassionate and I’m happy with the person I am. I’m not perfect and will continue to falter now and then.  I’m human.  I’ve made apologies to the man I love, to the father of my child, for how my disease impacted him.  And I have tried everything that I can think of to suggest to work on repairing our family.  Not just for our daughter’s sake but for us as well.  Because we deserve to have love.  Everyone does.

What I can’t understand is the unbreakable wall that I am met with.  I fell in love with a man who talked to me.  Really talked.  About feelings.  I swear, I’m not making him up.  They do exist.  I fell in love with a man who wasn’t afraid to tell me or show me how much he loved me.  He wasn’t afraid to tell or show everyone else how much he loved me, either.  He showed up at my place after a disagreement and apologized, telling me that he doesn’t ever want to let me down again.  And what I can’t understand is how there doesn’t appear to be a trace of this man left.

CC admits that he has changed.  He’s implied that I’m responsible for that change and, he’s probably right.  I said and did some unexplainable things during the first few months of my daughter’s life. For which I’ve already apologized.  There is nothing more that I can do.  I can’t take them back.  I can’t turn back time.  All I can do is say that I’m sorry.  And I’ve done this over and over again.  Despite his admitting that he is no longer that same person that I fell in love with, CC is adamant that I’m the only one who needs to change in order for us to ever be able to be together again.  When I try to talk about working towards reconciliation, I’m repeatedly told that “You haven’t changed.”  But I can’t understand how one can expect change when they’ve done nothing to help facilitate it.  We don’t talk. We make small talk about our child.  But even trying to have a conversation about her birthday turns into a battle of wills and it winds up being a fight and I wind up crying.  When nothing is done to work on improving our communication with one another, nothing will change.  I can’t understand how someone can expect change to just happen.

I can’t understand why I’m blamed for so, so much.  I can’t understand how two people can see one situation so differently.  I can’t understand how someone can put their foot down and say “I will xyz” when trying to have a conversation about our child’s best interests, instead of having a calm, rational conversation, and yet state that I’m controlling and everything always has to be my way.  I’m not the one putting my foot down.  I’m the one trying to talk things out, to find a way for everyone to be able to live with the decisions that are made.

I can’t understand how someone can truly believe that they were always there for you when they left you alone because they “couldn’t stand to be around you” and told you that you had to leave your home, saying that it was never your home to begin with and they just allowed you to be a guest there.  I can’t understand how someone can say that they are still always there for you yet they won’t go to counseling, won’t stay after putting your daughter to bed so that you can talk like adults, and when you ask for help with your child because she’s sick and you’re exhausted, they tell you no.  I can’t understand how someone can do all of these things and still believe that I’m the “bad guy” for saying that he wasn’t there for me. Being there for someone means getting on the floor with them while they’re crying and holding them. It means accepting their apologies. It means being there. Physically.

I can’t understand why I can’t win, so to speak.  I know that there are wonderful things that CC has done and continues to do.  And I have bragged about him many times.  When I was recovering from childbirth, a bad infection and a back injury all at once, I couldn’t pick my child up from her bed.  CC would bring her to me for her night feedings and then put her back to bed for me afterwards.  He changes diapers.  Gives her baths.  He would leave breakfast on my nightstand before leaving for work in the mornings because I wouldn’t eat otherwise.  He shoveled my car out of the snow for me during our recent snowstorm.  He has a good heart.  Underneath all of the hurt and anger and frustration is a wonderful man.  I can’t understand why me bringing up something that’s hurt me or that I don’t think is right seems to negate all of that to him.  It’s as if just because I think he does one thing wrong, it means everything he does is wrong.  And that simply isn’t the truth and for the life of me I can’t understand it.

I can’t understand why I’m always wrong.  What CC took away from my heartfelt post, The Day the Earth Stood Still was that he wasn’t there for me and he’s to blame for our relationship falling apart and that I love him.  And yet, I spent so much of that post talking about what I did to contribute to our relationship failing.  I took ownership of my part in all of this and I can’t for the life of me understand how nothing I said in that post could touch him in any way.

I can’t understand how someone who held my hand and cried watching the amount of pain I was in during labor could later turn around and tell me “Women give birth every day.” Like it was no big deal what I went through to give him the incredible child he loves so very much.  I can’t understand how this man who told me that I was his best friend, could truly believe that we always had a poor relationship.  I can’t understand how this man who has left work to go to the aid of a family member who suffers from seizures could not show any compassion for the challenges I faced as a result of my disease.  I can’t understand how, when I point out how much I have changed already, when I talk about how I get up and shower and get dressed every day and my home is maintained (whatever that is with a ten month old) and I’m singing and dancing and taking our daughter out somewhere every day, how he can respond to me with “that’s what human beings do.”  It’s cold.  It lacks any kind of understanding or compassion.  It’s belittling.  Because it isn’t my fault that there were times I was in the same clothes for three days straight.  It isn’t my fault that I couldn’t stay on top of a breastfeeding newborn, recovering from major surgery and a serious infection that landed me back in the hospital when my daughter was only a week old, a back injury that made caring for my daughter incredibly difficult and trying to maintain our home.  It isn’t my fault that I was sick.

It isn’t my fault that I suggested counseling several times before we actually went.  Or that, after only two sessions, CC gave up, while I kept going – alone.  It isn’t my fault that I went to the church to speak with a Deacon about the state of my family – alone. And that when I ask him to go he tells me no because “I don’t have to.”  It isn’t my fault that every thing I do to try to be pleasant with one another, to try to rekindle some spark between us is interpreted as “manipulation”.  I can’t understand how he can question my motives so very much when all I want to do is anything in the world that I can to somehow be a happy family.

I can’t understand how someone can be so admittedly unhappy.  How they could say that they do want to have their family back together but just don’t want the arguing, yet be unwilling to do anything to facilitate that happening.  It took months for us to destroy our relationship.  It will take time to fix it as well.  But if you want a family, if you want to be together, you make it happen.  You try anything you possibly can.  Because, really, what more do you have to lose?

I like my apartment, for the most part.  I could do without the noisy neighbors and unassigned parking spaces.  And the flight of stairs.  But it’s mine.  No one can tell me that it isn’t.  It’s cozy.  It’s warm.  It’s inviting.  It feels like a home.  It’s filled to the brim with toys.  And love.  I feel more at ease here then I did in his house for a long time.  Perhaps because it was his house.  At one time it didn’t feel that way, it felt like home, but that was a long time ago.  And yet, I still fell asleep every night next to the father of my child.  I kissed him goodnight every night, no matter what.  He was always there next to me for me to curl into, to put an arm around.  He was there for me to cook dinner for and to enjoy family days.  And that is greatly missing from my home.

I made a lot of mistakes.  I hurt people who I cared about.  I stopped truly showing appreciation for the good that I had.  But I stopped being appreciated as well.  I stopped being understood and loved for who I am unconditionally.  I stopped being allowed to take up residency in his heart.  And so, here I am, confused.  Lost.  Because I can’t understand how two people can want the exact same thing and yet not be able to find a way to work together towards that common goal.  I can’t understand what more I’m supposed to do.  And I can’t understand how to not feel guilty for my daughter being in the middle.

“Right now it don’t make sense I can’t make it all make sense So I’m gonna sit right here On the edge of this pier Watch the sunset disappear” ~ Luke Bryan

10

The Day The Earth Stood Still

This will probably be the most difficult thing I have ever written.  There are tears in my eyes as I type this and they have been there for hours now, since the door shut behind my little girl and her daddy as he took her to his house for the day.  I hesitated to write this because there are always people who will want to kick you when you are down, who find joy in other people’s struggles.  But this isn’t about them and I will not let them have that kind of power over me.  This is about my need to heal, to try to make sense of a senseless situation.  And to perhaps help others who may be in similar situations feel less alone.  To those who will find pleasure in my pain, I pray for you.  I pray that you find whatever is missing in your own life.

Most people look forward to the weekend.  It’s the end of the work week and time to have fun and relax with family and friends.  I dread the weekends.  Because every Saturday, my incredible daughter goes with her father for the entire day.  She lights up when she sees him and I know that she loves this time with him and that it’s the right thing to do.  I know that the situation could be worse and that my daughter could not have a father figure in her life.  And I thank God every day that she has her daddy.  But I miss her terribly, especially today.  My little girl is sick and I can’t be with her.  It goes against every maternal instinct known to man.  And, I also know that while the situation could be worse, it could also be much better.

While neither of us planned to have a child, she is the greatest miracle either of us could ever have imagined.  She is the light in both of our lives, the reason the sun rises and sets each day.  But we weren’t ready for the way having a child would change our relationship, for the way it would change us.

I read about women who have suffered from severe Post Partum Depression and/or Post Partum Anxiety.  These women who have terrifying thoughts of hurting themselves or their babies.  I never went through any of that.  I would never in a million years hurt my child or leave her without a mother.  She is my reason for waking up every day and I would never abandon her.  I think of the women who have struggled with these thoughts and my heart goes out to them.  I can not begin to imagine how scary that must be.  And it made it difficult for me to see my own struggles for what they were.  The feelings of guilt, not being good enough, failure, anxiety, loss of control.  The inability to balance being a mother, a girlfriend, a lover and taking care of myself.  All the while I just thought that my feelings were because of fighting in my relationship with CC.  I couldn’t see that it was something deeper until it tore my relationship apart.

Now I refuse to take full blame for the collapse of my daughter’s family.  It takes two, after all.  And we both let ourselves change.  We both failed to see the truth in our problems until it was all so far gone.  And we both failed to do everything we could to fight for each other and not against each other.  We let resentment build because it just all went on for too long without the help that we needed so badly.  The day CC decided he could no longer handle our difficulties, the earth stood still for me.  Because no matter how hard things were, no matter how hard they had ever been, I never would’ve thought that possible.  I never would’ve given up or walked away.  I may not have come from a very close family but I have always wanted that more than anything in the world.  Family to me is something you cherish and fight for.  You hold on to it with all that you have and, when it gets hard, you find a way to get through it together.  You stand by each other’s sides no matter what.  And you come out stronger in the end.  I know that my daughter’s father believes that he did all that he could.  But I also know that he didn’t.  I know that there are times he became angry with me when all I needed was to be held.  I know that when I poured my heart out in an effort to re-open the lines of communication, he put a wall up around his.  Maybe that’s just his way of protecting himself.  Of making this all easier on him.  But I just don’t know how to shut out love that way.

The thing about writing a blog about relationships is that everything is there in black and white.  It’s like having photographs to remember the past.  I have re-read the blogs from when CC and I were dating.  Over and over and over again.  And I can not believe how incredibly happy we were.  How we just meshed.  I’m reminded of a man who communicated his emotions to me like no man I’d ever met before.  And I look at him now, so hardened, so unfeeling.  And I don’t recognize him.  I don’t recognize us.  And I imagine that’s the same way he feels about me.  When I read about our relationship past, it’s hard to believe it’s the same people.  So when he tells me that he feels we never had a good relationship, despite the fact that I know it’s not true, I can understand how he could feel that way.  Because it all just seems so long ago and like a dream.  I had the most incredible love.  I had a love that meant falling asleep in each other’s arms on the couch because we couldn’t bear to be apart.  A love that meant doing things for each other even if they were out of our comfort zone.  I had the kind of love that I hope my daughter has one day.  And I wish with everything that I am that I could teach my daughter about that kind of love first hand.

I wish that she could grow up seeing her mother and father kissing in the kitchen while making breakfast.  Tickling each other while cleaning up from dinner.  I wish that she could see that, even though we sometimes fight and disagree, that love is strong and worth fighting for.  The last thing in the world I would ever want is for my daughter to grow up in a house full of fighting.  But I believe that nothing is black and white, good or bad.  There is always gray.  There is counseling, there is church, there is real, no-holds-barred communication with each other.  There is so much more that her father and I could have done to make our relationship work.  To find that incredible love again.  And in my heart and soul, I know that if we just worked at it, we could be a family.  But I can’t do it alone.  I’ve turned to the church.  I’ve prayed.  I’ve allowed myself to be vulnerable to him.  But it will not work if I’m the only one trying.

CC has told me to just move on.  And I have tried.  But everything changes when there’s a child involved.  Dating isn’t so innocent anymore.  Every one you talk to, you have to think, is this someone I would one day want around my child?  Is this someone I would one day want to be an influence in my child’s raising?  There is no bringing someone back to your place for the night.  Because your daughter is asleep in the next room and you would never in a million years bring someone you don’t know like the back of your hand into her home or around her.  Because you just never know.  Because the most likely person to abuse a child is a significant other.  Because the thought of even having a cup of coffee with someone other than her father makes me want to vomit.  I don’t know how to just let go and move on from something I believe so strongly in.  I don’t know how to give up a fight for something that I know is right.  I’m not a quitter.  I wouldn’t have survived half of the things in my life if I was.

In my life, I see so much separation and divorce right now.  It’s like an epidemic and I am at a loss for why suddenly, especially at this time of year, a time of family and miracles, so many people are just throwing in the towel.  A friend of mine recently talked about the current technology making everyone expect instant gratification.  That no one wants to or knows how to work for anything anymore.  We get everything we need at the touch of a button, delivered to our phones in our pockets.  So when one counseling session doesn’t make a dent in our problems, we think it never will.  We think the situation is hopeless and it’s time to just move on.  And we can move on as easily as taking out that same cell phone and putting up an online dating profile.  I know I did.  I went on to the same site where I met CC.  I looked for him.  I knew he would be on there.  I never did find a profile for him but he found mine again.  And, after having told me time and again to move on, he couldn’t believe that I had a dating profile online.  And I thought, it was two years ago, right around this time, that we found each other on that very site.  And I believe in fate.  I truly do.  I believe that things happen for a reason.  And I think, what a way to truly start over.  If we could message each other on the same site we met, go back to the same place we had our first date.  And find those sparks again.  Remember who we both used to be before things became so complicated and jaded.  I do believe in fate but it will only take you so far.  Fate will lead you to where you’re supposed to be but we have to act on it.  That’s what free will is all about.

And so, I sit here, half the day already gone, still not out of my pajamas, with a million and one things to do today.  And I will do them.  Because I want my daughter to have a home that’s not filled with boxes, with room to play.  I want her to have a mother with the energy to focus on her completely.  And because, when she’s with her daddy, I have to pump to make sure she has breast milk when she’s away from me because I believe that is what’s best for my child.  And I would do anything in the world to give her what I feel is best.  I have said before that I would walk through fire doused in gasoline if I thought that it would fix her family.  If I thought it meant all being together around her Christmas Tree.  She is learning to walk.  And last night, she held his hand in one hand and mine in the other while she walked.  She had both of his hands and dropped one and took one of mine.  She brought us together in that moment as a family.  My daughter is so incredibly smart and could teach us both so much about life and love and what’s truly important.  I watch how quickly she grows and I see how short life truly is.  How each moment passes just like that.  And I think, when we waste even a minute of our lives holding grudges or holding back “I love you”, we are wasting so much.

To the father of my beautiful, strong, determined and inspiring little girl, I love you.  You’re not perfect.  You have hurt me and disappointed me at times.  Just as I have you.  But I love you.  Love doesn’t mean perfection, it doesn’t mean things will always be easy.  It’s not always explainable or easily understood.  But when you have it, you hold on to it with everything you have.  Because some people go their whole lives without ever feeling what we did.  I have opened my eyes to my own flaws and I’m a work in progress.  I always will be.  But I’m getting there.  I pray that you will one day do the same.  Because family never fails.

0

To My Daughter, With Love

This has been one hell of a year. Recently, it hasn’t been in a good way. In fact, as I think about what there is to be thankful for this year, I can think of quite a few reasons not to be.

So far, the second half of 2013 has been riddled with heartache, fear, confusion, loneliness, sadness; I wonder if I’m leaving anything out. Having gone from being part of a family in a two story home to being a single mom in a two bedroom apartment isn’t exactly something to put in the Holiday Newsletter. But then, I peek into that second bedroom, where my little girl is sleeping soundly. I watch the gentle rise and fall of her chest as she breathes. I take a deep breath of my own, taking in her scent (and that of the diaper pail). And I’m reminded that I have everything in the world to be thankful for.

My life certainly isn’t what I expected it would be right now. But it’s still incredible. I have this amazing little girl who loves me like I’m the greatest thing in the world, a blessing I had given up hope of ever having. And, as I write this, I’m watching her on the monitor as she sleeps. And I’m at peace. Whatever other challenges or disappointments life has thrown my way (and will continue to do so – that’s life), when I look at her, everything is right in the world.

It’s so easy to look at what we don’t have. To want more. To feel we deserve more. And sometimes, we’re right. But we should never let that make us forget the blessings we do have. My daughter has opened my eyes and my heart in ways I never thought imaginable. I hope she never loses her happy and determined spirit. And I hope I’m able to teach her the value of the small things in life and of appreciating all she has.

To my daughter, with love,

I’m thankful for:

  • Your incredible smile that is contagious beyond words.  Never lose that zest for life.
  • Your laugh that lights up a room brighter than every star in the sky.
  • The kisses you surprise me with.
  • Having a successful breastfeeding relationship with you despite some early challenges.
  • Being a strong enough woman, mentally, physically and emotionally, to have stuck with something that was so important to me.  I hope that I’m able to pass that trait on to you.  Never give up on something that means everything to you.  Always believe in yourself, even when it’s hard.  Especially when it’s hard.
  • The way you snuggle into me while sucking your thumb when I let you watch Sesame Street.
  • The way you clap your hands whenever I first turn on music.
  •  A warm bed to sleep in.  Some people, even children, don’t have this.  Don’t ever take that for granted.
  • Food on our table every day.  One day, I will teach you my secret sauce recipe.
  • Clothes on our backs and shoes on our feet.
  • Family that, though they drive me crazy, is there in a pinch to pack my moving truck. Yet again.  Your family will always be there for you, no matter what.  You can and should always come to me with anything and everything.  There is nothing you could ever do that would make your family love you any less or turn their backs on you.  That’s what being family is all about.  Being stuck like glue.
  • The way you giggle when we dance to Stuck Like Glue by Sugarland 🙂  Your daddy and I once danced to that song at a concert.  You’ve always loved it.
  • New days full of opportunity.  Treat every new day as a fresh start.  Leave any anger, frustration or disappointment from the day before behind you.
  • Life. Messy, unpredictable, difficult but so rewarding.
  • Friends who are there when it matters and the ability to accept those who fall short for who they are.  Not everyone will treat you the way that you treat them.  Accept people for who they are.
  • the intelligence to know that not all who smile at you have good intentions or your best interest at heart. Pay more attention to people’s actions then their words.
  • Memories of incredible love and a heart full of hope for the future. Never lose hope.
  • Sunsets.
  • Fluffy snow.
  • Cozy blankets.
  • Peppermint.
  • Hot chocolate.
  • Peppermint hot chocolate.
  • Good books.  I hope your love of books continues as you grow.  I hope to one day share some of my favorite books with you.  And that one day, you will read to me about Gerald the Giraffe.
  • My permanently distorted belly button that, while no longer perfectly adorable, reminds me that you and I were one once.  Love your body always.  It won’t be perfect but it will be beautiful.
  • Photos – both having them to remember special moments and being able to take them and help others preserve their special moments.  Find something you love to do in life, that takes you away somewhere magical.  And do it.
  • Healing.  We always do.  Some wounds, physical or emotional, take longer to heal than others.  Allow yourself that time.
  • Our innate, incredible ability to constantly change and grow.
  • That perfect pair of panties and matching bra that make you feel like you can take on the world. You will understand this many years from now.
  • Drive thru windows without which, I would miss many meals.
  • Autumn leaves and teaching you how they feel and how to make them crumble.
  • Seasonally scented candles.
  • Pandora Radio
  • The way you always calm when I sing to you. No matter what.
  • The feel of your hand in mine.
  • Naps.  I know that you hate these right now.  One day, I promise, you will yearn for them.
  • Camera phones that enable me to take endless photos and videos of you.
  • Any night that involves more than a four hour stretch of sleep.
  • Johnny Depp. Now and forever. One day we’ll watch Benny and Joon together.
  • Bubble baths and wine.
  • Long, aimless drives.
  • Midgetville.
  • Strong female country musicians.
  • Karaoke.
  • Dessert.  Sometimes its okay to eat before dinner.  Or as dinner.  But only if you learn to eat your vegetables sometimes too!
  • Today. Right now.  This moment is what life is all about.  Tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.  Enjoy the right now.  Make the most of every moment.  Forgive those you care about, love those who deserve it, try new things, smell the roses.  Live life to it’s fullest.  Right now.
  • Silly time with my girl <3

    Silly time with my girl ❤

     

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I’m a Mommy

I’m a mommy.

I don’t always find time to shower every day. Sometimes a toothbrush and deodorant have to suffice. My hair dryer is collecting dust and, while my hair has grown beautifully long from my pregnancy, it is almost always piled on top of my head to avoid pulling, etc. And because I just don’t usually have the time or energy to do it. I have traded in my skinny jeans and heels for sweatpants and flip flops most days. My latest fashions come with clip-down straps instead of designer tags. And they are almost always covered in spit-up by the end of the day. I haven’t watched a full TV show, uninterrupted in months and movie theaters and restaurants have become mostly foreign to me. My child has started sleeping through the night but I am still awake every hour – checking that she is breathing. I wake at every sneeze/cough/fart/thumb-suck. I eat most of my meals standing up or driving or while playing with musical elephants. I hear the song from that musical elephant everywhere. I don’t entirely remember how to hold down an adult conversation that doesn’t include the words “poop” or “nipple”. I hear phantom crying while in the car/shower/backyard/supermarket. I have had to pack away 80% of my clothes and buy a new wardrobe, two sizes larger than my pre-pregnancy clothes. It took me weeks to actually figure out what size I am because trying on clothes with the baby with me is like Defcon 1 and is, therefore, impossible. My previously rock hard booty is now slightly saggy and adorned with stretch-marks. While I have the desire to work out, the time and energy to do so are simply fantasies. My house has gone from neat and organized to a state of almost constant disarray.

Silly time with my girl <3

Silly time with my girl ❤

I’m a mommy.

I am beautiful without silky, blown-dry and straightened hair. My skin glows from the inside out with love, nurture and pride. I am filled with so much love that my body simply cannot contain it inside. I have traded in my compulsive shopping for the latest fashions for compulsive shopping of clothes I am comfortable in and allow my child comfortable and easy access to nursing and snuggling. I have learned that, more important than the clothes on my body is my body’s ability to provide my child with life, vitamins, nutrients, immunity and love. I have worked through raw, cracked, bloody and painful breasts to provide this benefit to my child. And I would do it all again in the blink of an eye. I’m strong and now my child will be too. I don’t miss my TV shows. I’ve replaced them with teaching my daughter how to get that crazy little elephant to turn on and play music all on her own. Instead of filling my time with make believe lives, I now fill my time with helping another life to thrive. I’m a teacher; Of language skills, smiles, laughter, cause and effect, motor skills, social skills. I teach trust, love, healthy-sleep habits. One day I will sleep through the night again. And I will miss the days when my little girl was so little and would wake me up, needing to be close to me. So I cherish the middle of the night feedings, where she looks up at me and smiles, holding on tight to my finger. If my old clothes never fit me again, I will find comfort in providing them to someone who desperately needs clothing on their back. My new body is incredible just the way it is. That body grew and brought forth life. It nourished my child, enabling her to be able to survive on her own and become her own, independent person. Every new wrinkle, sag, pound is a symbol of the irreplaceable bond between my daughter and I. A bond no one else will ever have with her. A bond that means more to me than the size printed on the inside label of my jeans. I do not have stretch marks. I have tiger stripes. They are a symbol of my strength as a woman and mother. They are a symbol of my greatest accomplishment in my life, now or ever: My child. One day, they will fade. But my love and pride will remain strong. As for my house? That disarray isn’t “mess”. It’s love, knowledge, fun. When my daughter grows up, she will not look back fondly on how clean or spotless our home was or wasn’t. She will look back fondly on the memories we’ve created spending time together, being silly and snuggly.

I’m a mommy. And I’m beautiful and so is my life. You’re beautiful too, mommy.

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Teach Your Children Well

By now I think most people know I’m anti CIO (crying it out). Someone on a parenting group board recently advocated for that method of sleep training by telling me that one of the most important things you can teach your children is how to sleep. I agree. But I believe HOW we teach our children is equally as important.

Most of us wouldn’t dare teach our children to swim by throwing them in the water and waiting to see if they figure it out in their own. We worry, and rightfully so, that they would get injured or drown. We worry this method might make them fearful of the water, distrustful of us. And that Child Protective Services might show up at our doors. So why do we think leaving our children alone in their cribs to “figure it out” is any different?

I can already hear the pro-CIO people laughing in disbelief at this comparison, saying “because your kid won’t be harmed by lying in their crib”. Or will they?

Recent studies show that

letting babies get distressed is a practice that can damage children and their relational capacities in many ways for the long term.

Leaving our babies to cry only makes them more anxious and can actually lead to less intelligent, unhealthy children. (Psychology Today, 2011).

Previous beliefs were that we had to teach our children to be independent and crying it out was just another means of accomplishing this lesson. They have to learn to sleep on their own. Studies now show, however, that the opposite is true. The more we respond to our children’s needs, the more independent they become. They know we’re there for them if they need us so they become more willing to take chances. They know that when they need assistance, they won’t be ignored. The fact is, by habitually responding to our babies needs, whether it is feeding on demand or simply satisfying their need to be held before they get distressed, we’re more likely to wind up with more secure, independent children. (Stein and Newcomb 1994). Autonomy is a basic human need. Our children are hard wired to want to become independent as they grow.

Whether you believe in Psychology or not (my own child’s father is a skeptic) we can look at CIO from a humanistic approach. Think about a time you’ve cried as hard as you could. How would you feel if no one comforted you? We don’t leave our spouses to cry it out, saying they have to learn to get over it on their own. We talk to them, hold them, comfort them. So why should we treat our children differently? After all, they’re people, too.

Think about that time you cried as hard as you could. To the point of excessive saliva, feeling nauseous, maybe even throwing up. We wind up with headaches, difficulty breathing. We feel tired. Crying releases a chemical called Cortisol which, in excess, damages neurons in our brains. (Thomas et al. 2007) Our babies experience the same physiological reactions.

Full term babies are still undergoing most of their brain development after birth. Allowing our babies to become so distressed can lead to deficits in their brain development. Distress in early years is actually linked to irritable bowel syndrome and other disorders (Stam et al. 1997).

I know my own child, in the first three months, didn’t have any other type of cry besides the someone’s-ripping-my-limbs-from-my-body cry. Leaving her to exhaust herself that way until she passes out wasn’t something I was ever comfortable doing. I responded to her every need. I comforted her every time she cried. We rocked her to sleep. Held her during naps. Fed on demand. At three months old, she puts herself down for her naps. She only wakes once, maybe twice at night (she’s breastfed so this is expected). When she wakes in the morning, she does so smiling. She plays independently with her toys. She rarely cries. She fell into her own feeding schedule of every three hours. And she did it all without being “trained.”

Now every child and circumstance is different. But babies all have one thing in common; their basic needs. They need to be fed, held, changed, etc. they don’t cry for “no reason”. They cry to be fed, held, changed. Because they are too hot or too cold, bored or overstimulated. And yes, tired. It’s up to us to figure out the reason and address their needs, not our own needs. They depend on us after all. I never want to think my child fell asleep on her own because she learned no one will come if she cries. She has learned that sleep is a safe state to be in. And that we will always be there If she needs us. She has learned trust.

There are many different parenting styles out there and, I’m not an expert. I’m just a mom who quotes them. But I do believe that, as parents, we need to make informed decisions when it comes to raising our children. There is so much information at our fingertips now and we owe it to our children to take advantage of such. Just because someone tells us CIO worked for them doesn’t mean it’s the best way for our children. At the end of the day, I’m grateful for a happy, strong, intelligent child. Who I never had to suffer through hearing her scream for twenty minutes until she fell asleep, thinking “it’s harder on me than it is on her.” Somehow I can’t imagine that’s true.

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Things No One Told Me

When you’re pregnant, it seems there are universal “warnings” every experienced parent feels the need to share: sleep now because you’ll never sleep again is probably the biggest one I heard from people. But what about the things no one warns you about? At least no one warned me anyway!

1. Your first internal exam will hurt like a mother.
2. Your sex drive will go from one of an 18 year old boy to you-want-to-put-what-where???
3. Once little one starts sleeping longer at night, you still won’t sleep. Because you’ll constantly be checking that he or she is breathing.
4. Your baby will fight sleep, despite being exhausted. Instead of falling asleep, your little one will scream like someone just ripped his or her limbs off.
5. You NEED a glider or rocking chair in every room of your house. Be prepared to spend most of your day in it.
6. Showers are a luxury. Get one when you can.
7. Babies without teeth still “bite”. Their gums are hard. They like to do this while breastfeeding.
8. You’ll eat most meals over your little one’s head while he or she is breastfeeding. And you will undoubtedly drop food on his or her head, butt, face, in the ear, etc.
9. Even sound asleep, they can smell you walk into the room. And will wake up.
10. Midnight to two a.m. is the perfect playtime. Come on mom, I’m smiling! Play with me!
11. Stop signs and lights are the devil. It’s like the movie Speed; you must keep moving at or above a certain speed or risk hearing that limb-ripping screaming.
12. Everyone has an opinion on how to raise your child. And, you’re inevitably doing it all wrong according to them.
13. Your child will look adorable in cute outfits every day. Most days, you won’t manage to get a shirt on yourself, much less brush your hair or teeth.
14. You will question your own beliefs once its your own child they apply to (vaccines, cosleeping, etc)
15. You will disagree with your partner over what’s best for your child sometimes.
16. Strangers will try to touch your child. And you won’t feel rude at all telling them to step back.
17. If you’re breastfeeding, you will learn to feel comfortable whipping it out anywhere.
18. You will play a game called “what color is the poopy in your diaper today?” And you’ll actually be curious to see.
19. The first two to three weeks are horrible. But it’s not PC to admit that. And then, overnight, it suddenly just gets better.
20. Not all baby clothes are cute. And people will buy you some of the ugliest things you’ve ever seen. And they will not give a gift receipt. The store you try to return it to will offer you a penny.
21. Your relationship with your in-laws will change. Setting boundaries can be hard on a relationship.
22. Breastmilk heals everything. You will squirt it in your child’s eye. On purpose.
23. Leaking is real. You will squirt milk in your child’s eye. On accident.
24. As soon as you start a breastfeeding session, someone will knock at your door. Incessantly.
25. You will be filled with so much love for this little person you barely know that you’ll feel like you may explode.

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Adventures in Breastfeeding

Breastfeeding is natural, beautiful. When done in the privacy of your own home. God forbid your baby should need to eat while out in public. You must then make sure to only feed them while hidden underneath a hot cover that will cause your baby to sweat like a sumo wrestler. Seriously, this is still the mentality of a lot of people out there, despite the fact that its 2013 and we’re supposed to be enlightened. This ignorance, unfortunately, causes many new moms a great deal of anxiety, fear and even shame around feeding their child.

I was one of them in the first three weeks or so. I carried that hot, annoying cover with me everywhere. If we were out somewhere, I’d take her to the car to feed her, under the cover of course. If you’ve never been in that situation, I assure you that trying to get a hungry baby, who’s screaming like you’ve never fed him/her before, under a cover while sitting in a car is a feat not even Houdini could perform.

And then, I got real. Maybe it was the doctor’s crazy insistence that Drea wasn’t gaining weight fast enough and that I should supplement with formula. Maybe it was just because breastfeeding was becoming easier for both of us. But suddenly, a switch in me flipped and it was like that Luvs commercial with the difference between baby number one and baby number two. I realized that, while whipping out my boob under other circumstances might be crude and spring break worthy behavior, feeding my child wasn’t something to be ashamed of. If my kid is hungry, I’m going to feed her. It’s as simple as that.

I’ve now breastfed in the mommy lounge at Babies R Us, the parking lot of Target, without a cover, the fitting rooms at Target, Macy’s and Express, my front porch letting my girl enjoy the fresh air and, most recently (and notably) at the DMV. Hey, I had to renew my license, she had to eat. We’re a team after all, we have to work together! (We did use a cover in this incident however!)

As I left the DMV, an elderly couple asked how I finally got my baby to be quiet. I responded that “She was hungry. I whipped out my boob.” I think they went straight to therapy. But that’s reality. And if anyone else had a problem with my feeding her, they didn’t show it. In fact, two women sitting behind me jokingly commented about Drea being drunk on breastmilk afterwards. And my daughter was perfectly happy and content!

We see commercials on TV all the time urging us to send money to starving children in other countries. Why would we allow our own little one to go hungry for even a minute if we could help it? The great thing about breastfeeding is that you always have food for baby, wherever you are. So whip it out and give your precious bundle that yummy, wholesome nourishment! For the record, Drea is growing in leaps and bounds. And I never gave her a single drop of formula.

To the new mommies trying to face their breastfeeding fears, let me just say this: the first time’s always the hardest. And the most rewarding. After you successfully feed your baby in public for the first time and,survive, you wonder what you were ever so uncomfortable about. The truth is, people stare when your baby’s screaming and crying. So let them stare because you’re feeding him/her instead. There is nothing more beautiful and natural in this world and don’t ever let anyone make you feel ashamed for providing your child with the greatest gift in the world.

For more support, check out the Facebook page, You Can Breastfeed Here. My only question now is: can you breastfeed in church? We have a communion coming up and this is the one place I’m not sure about! Lol

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Fill Your Mommy Arsenal With Knowledge

P_birth_Plans1They say that knowledge is power.  I’m not sure who “they” is but, just the same.  So why is it that, with certain things, like doctors, we just take what we’re told to be fact?  Most people I know research big purchases before they make them, like cars, computers, houses.  If someone told you that the foundation of the house they’re selling is sturdy, would you just take their word or would you have it checked out – research it a bit for yourself?  Why don’t we do the same when it comes to our doctors, to giving birth, to the most important decisions of our lives?

We all know there are certain “no-nos” during pregnancy: drinking, smoking, drugs (although these should perhaps be on the no-no list all of the time?).  I think most people would at least think twice before going sky-diving or skiing while carrying a giant bowling bowl in their abdomen.  But what about medications, pain interventions, birthing options?

When I got past the excitement of teeny-tiny shoes and onesies and I thought about the actual process of giving birth, my first thought was, I assume, similar to many women’s –epidural!  With scoliosis, I didn’t know if that would actually be a possibility (sometimes they don’t take or numb only one side of the body, etc.) and I began vigorously researching this and talking to my doctor about getting an anesthesia consult.  Then, I did some more research on epidurals only, this time, I wasn’t researching the likelihood of one working on me.  I was researching what’s actually in them and what effect they can have on my child.

I learned that epidurals make you feel so good because, well, they’re drugging you.  Now, that may seem like a pretty “duh” thing to say.  But I suppose I just never really looked at it that way before.  According to the Physicians Desk Reference, “Local Anesthetics rapidly cross the placenta and when used for epidural, paracervical, pudendal or caudal block anesthesia, can cause varying degrees of maternal, fetal and neonatal toxicity.”  What a minute!  My doctor never told me that!!!  And so began my research into many other interventions.

My doctor constantly tells me to stop watching the baby shows on TLC.  You know, Baby’s First Day, A Baby Story, etc.  Naturally, they show extreme situations otherwise, they wouldn’t be all that entertaining.  But, I have always been the kind of person who likes to prepare myself for all situations.  Prepared for the worst case scenario, I should be able to handle anything that comes along.  These shows mention Pitocin pretty frequently, in fact, I think on about every episode.  Pitocin is a drug that’s used to either induce labor or speed up labor in certain situations.  Seeing as induction is sometimes necessary (doctors don’t let you go past 42 weeks due to a decrease in the functioning of the placenta and an increase in the risk of meconium)  I thought to ask about this means of intervention at our last doctor’s visit.  My doctor’s response?  Pitocin is something your body produces naturally so it’s perfectly safe.  Sometimes your body just isn’t producing enough and so they provide additional Pitocin by means of IV.  Okay, sounds good, right?

The problem is that what pregnant women receive in their IV’s is actually a synthetic form of what our bodies produce naturally and there is nothing natural about it at all.  The bodies natural hormone is secreted in bursts, causing spaced-out contractions.  When given through an IV, Pitocin is received in a steady flow.  So, what’s the big deal?  The big deal is that this causes contractions to be stronger and closer together.  During contractions, there is a major decrease in uterine blood flow aka the amount of oxygen reaching the baby.  With normal contractions, there is enough time in between for the baby to recover.  However, with Pitocin induced contractions, they come on too strong and too fast most of the time, making it difficult for the baby to recover their oxygen between contractions.  This can and often does result in fetal distress, making an otherwise unnecessary c-section suddenly an emergency situation.  Pitocin can also cause premature separation of the placenta, rupture of the uterus, postbirth hemorrhage, fetal asphyxia, neonatal hypoxia, physical injury and prematurity (if the due date is not accurate).  There is also research showing that Pitocin is linked to disorders on the autism spectrum.  I guess my doctor, and many others, aren’t quite up on their reading?

It can be a vicious cycle, one that starts with an epidural, which often slows down and eases up contractions.  This can create the need for Pitocin which may result in the need for a c-section due to fetal distress.  Or, in situations where induction is necessary due to being past the due date or for other medical reasons, the cycle may start with Pitocin.  Which increases the pain from the contractions (they’re stronger, remember), resulting in an epidural when previously unwanted.

To be fair, there are absolutely times where medical interventions are absolutely necessary and I’m so thankful that these options exist for the safety and well-being of delivering women everywhere.  Let me say that I do not begrudge any woman’s right to the birthing plan of her choice, including epidurals or other medicinal pain management.  Every woman and every pregnancy is different and, for all I know, when I’m actually in that situation two months from now, I may be screaming for someone to just give me the f’n drugs already!!!!”  I like to think I have a decent pain tolerance but, then again, I’ve never had a human being coming out of my body before.  Either way, I’m thankful that women have these options and the right to make these choices when it comes to their bodies.  I just think that those choices should come with the responsibility of fully researching the options and their possible impacts on both mothers and their children.

After my own research, I have made drastic changes to my own birthing plan which, let’s be honest, is really just a wish list.  When the time comes, BB will be the one calling the shots that day.  It’s the first time as mothers we are called on to let go and trust our children to know the right thing to do.  I trust BB, he/she has a smart mama.  All the same, having a plan is something that makes me feel more prepared for the big moment.  And boy, has my plan changed.  I went from freaking out that an epidural might not work on me to not wanting one at all.  My plan?  A natural birth.

I want to know that, not only is my baby drug free at birth but that I am too; that I’m not too loopy to hold my baby or to remember that very first contact.  There’s a lot of documentation about women who give birth naturally being able to breast feed more quickly, to actually walk to their room rather than being wheeled in, etc.  There is also research about babies being born with healthier coloring (no blue Smurf look at birth) and I find it all fascinating and worth reading up on at the very least.  I do not want to be held back by IV’s, especially if I’m not receiving any medications through them.  It always amazes me how, anytime you’re in an ER or hospital for any reason, they immediately hook you up to an IV.  Most often, if you ask, they will tell you that it’s a precautionary measure, so that if they do end up needing to medicate, they are one step ahead of the game.  This is something I routinely refuse.  If I wind up needing medication, then you can stick me with an IV.  Until then, please leave my skin and veins in tact, thank you very much.

During labor, IV’s are very restrictive and make the possibility of natural childbirth much less likely.  They can restrict a woman to the labor and delivery bed, with other monitors, etc. hooked up.  What’s amazing to me to learn is that there are indeed alternatives.  As in any other time, women have the right to refuse a precautionary IV during labor.  Which leaves them free to walk (one of the most recommended ways to speed up labor), use a balance ball, squat (also recommended for speeding up labor), bathe, eat, drink, etc.  The list goes on and on.  Our bodies were designed to birth babies after all.  We just need to know what we’re doing to help them along.

I will soon be starting my Bradley Classes although I have already been reading the books, practicing my exercises, ensuring proper sleeping position etc. etc.  I’m hopeful that, with proper breathing techniques, positioning, exercising and of course, CC’s support, that this whole natural birthing thing will be a reality.  Of course, I am prepared for the possibility that I may wind up needing every single intervention that I’m not interested in having.  But, at least I know the pros and cons, the risks and benefits and how to determine if the doctors and nurses are making a decision because it’s medically necessary or because they want to get home to watch their favorite show.  And I know that I have the option to say no and that, whatever spur of the moment decisions arise that day and need to be made right away, I will at least be making them intelligently, backed with the knowledge of all of my research.

Whether women choose Bradley, Lamaze, natural birth, c-sections, epidurals, etc, it is a personal choice every woman can and must make for herself, hopefully with the input and support of her partner.  Just remember that these choices are going to be with you much longer than that new car you’re thinking about buying.  A little research and arming your mommy arsenal with knowledge can be a powerful thing.

** To anyone considering natural childbirth or just looking to learn more, I highly recommend Husband-Coached Childbirth by Robert A. Bradley, M.D. **