Sometimes I wonder if I should be a little more mysterious, and a little less open about what I am thinking and feeling. But then I remember that doing that would just exhaust me.
Thursday, September 15, 2011
Sunday, September 11, 2011
Baby Lists
I don't even know what to say. We had our sweet little baby Reese two weeks ago today! It's hard for me to sum up how our lives have changed. Instead of giving you the gory details of the birth and telling you just how awesome my pelvis is, I am going to list things about motherhood that have surprised me in the last two weeks. I really need to figure out some other way to organize my thoughts other than lists.
1. The paranoia. Historically, cute Dave is the paranoid one. He was paranoid about everything during the pregnancy. I was really good at the ole eye-roll when he would tell me that our baby would come out deformed if I didn't eat broccoli (I didn't eat it, and she is beautiful). Now, since removing the child from my uterus I am the paranoid one. Wha?? When did that happen? The first night it was just the three of us at home I noticed her toes were purple/blue. I thought she was dying and couldn't breathe and wasn't getting the oxygen to tell us that! I grabbed the keys to take her to the emergency room. Dave made me google it first. Google told me it was normal. Phew. I am constantly taking her temperature, and interpreting every squeak as a sign of some awful disease. Someone needs to cut me off from WebMD. I am projecting my hypochondriac mania onto my baby. I need to start doing yoga again and calm down.
2. The guilt. Now, don't get me wrong. I am happy. I will get to that later. But, honestly, there has been guilt and that was something that took me by surprise. Everyone gives you the advice that in the hospital you should let the nurses take the baby while you get some sleep. I let them take her for probably 6 of the 48 hours we were there. Primarily because she was new and beautiful and all mine, but I also felt guilty letting her out of my sight. A part of me felt like I would fail the first test of motherhood if I pawned her off onto other people.
At the hospital she nursed really well. She would eat and then fall right asleep with her belly full of colostrum. When we went home, my milk started to come in. Things went swimmingly. My mom stayed the first night with us, but Reesey was such an angel that I knew we could do it on our own the second night. That night was awful. I nursed for what seemed like 5 hours, and my baby was still screaming and crying and telling me she was hungry. She would eat for 20 minutes, fall asleep, and as soon as I would put her down in her crib she would start right back up again with her pathetic starving cry. Finally, I was so distraught and worn out that I fed her some formula* because I was sick of it. She took down the whole 2 ounces (she's only 4 days old here, so that's impressive) and slept like a rock the rest of the night. She was finally happy, but as I sat there feeding her the formula on the couch I sobbed. My exclusively breast-fed baby was drinking formula. I, as a mother, was stripping my child of valuable nutrients and anti-bodies just because I was tired. I was overcome with guilt. I felt like a horrible, selfish failure. I was also sleep-deprived, so I did not even try to suppress my tears. I was sobbing so loudly that Dave came out into the living room (aka the nursery) looking panicked and asking what was wrong with the baby. My response was, "She's drinking formula!" He just looked at me. I think he was worried about my sanity at that point, because his reply was, "Maybe you should call your mom in the morning and have her come stay with you and the baby." Ha. This makes me laugh now, but at the time I was so very upset. So after putting my happy, full baby to sleep I finally got some sleep myself. The next morning I got up and decided to try and pump, because if she's gonna eat from a bottle, at least it can be breastmilk. I couldn't even pump 2 ounces from the both of them. My poor girl had been trying so hard to nurse, but was getting nothing from it. That's why she had been so grumpy. She really was starving! That assuaged my guilt from the formula a little, but brought with it guilt about my stupid evil boobs trying to starve my baby and not working right. I did my best over the next few days to try and teach them that they needed to produce more for my kid, but at the same time I had to feed her more formula. I have managed not quite to quiet, but at least stifle the guilt that comes when I feed her formula. My milk has been a lot more plentiful, but she still has formula every now and then. Do I know this guilt is irrational? Yes I do. There are so many cases when women choose not to or cannot breastfeed, and it's not like that makes the difference between ivy league and community college later on. I just had made the decision that I would breast feed, and for me when I couldn't provide everything she needed it felt like a slap in the face from failure. I have done my best to convince my brain that getting nutrition from formula is better than getting no nutrition at all, and that sometimes it will honestly be impossible for me to nurse her. But I still get a twinge of guilt every time we make her a bottle. But no sobbing! Progress!
3. the change in priorities. Today is my birthday. People have been asking me what I want for my birthday for the last couple weeks. BR (before Reese) I had imagined that I would milk this birthday to its fullest, seeing as how I would be a brand new mom, frazzled, and in need of something extravagant. I feel the opposite now. I don't need anything, because I have everything. I have been unable to think of something I want, and when I do it's something like a Moby wrap, which will make carrying my sweet kid around easier. I live in a Reese-centric universe. Someone tell Galileo!
4. bionic ears. How is it that I can sleep through alarm clocks, but if my baby sighs in the next room, I can be roused from my REM cycle? Also, how does Dave sleep through it all!?
5. Nesting. Still. Pinterest has been my savior and favorite pal during the nighttime feedings. I have gotten about a billion DIY projects that I am going to do. Like this super sweet mobile (I am not going to show you the link, because I will post pictures after it's done. And then I will not tell you how easy it was) and some glowing jars. I am in craft-mode.
6. I didn't know that this much happiness could exist. When Dave and I fell in love I felt like my heart's capacity for love and happiness had expanded. It's done it again. Exponentially. We probably can't have more kids, because if this keeps happening I just might 'splode.
*Women who feed their babies formula are still wonderful mothers. In no way do I think women who breastfeed are superior or better mothers.
1. The paranoia. Historically, cute Dave is the paranoid one. He was paranoid about everything during the pregnancy. I was really good at the ole eye-roll when he would tell me that our baby would come out deformed if I didn't eat broccoli (I didn't eat it, and she is beautiful). Now, since removing the child from my uterus I am the paranoid one. Wha?? When did that happen? The first night it was just the three of us at home I noticed her toes were purple/blue. I thought she was dying and couldn't breathe and wasn't getting the oxygen to tell us that! I grabbed the keys to take her to the emergency room. Dave made me google it first. Google told me it was normal. Phew. I am constantly taking her temperature, and interpreting every squeak as a sign of some awful disease. Someone needs to cut me off from WebMD. I am projecting my hypochondriac mania onto my baby. I need to start doing yoga again and calm down.
2. The guilt. Now, don't get me wrong. I am happy. I will get to that later. But, honestly, there has been guilt and that was something that took me by surprise. Everyone gives you the advice that in the hospital you should let the nurses take the baby while you get some sleep. I let them take her for probably 6 of the 48 hours we were there. Primarily because she was new and beautiful and all mine, but I also felt guilty letting her out of my sight. A part of me felt like I would fail the first test of motherhood if I pawned her off onto other people.
At the hospital she nursed really well. She would eat and then fall right asleep with her belly full of colostrum. When we went home, my milk started to come in. Things went swimmingly. My mom stayed the first night with us, but Reesey was such an angel that I knew we could do it on our own the second night. That night was awful. I nursed for what seemed like 5 hours, and my baby was still screaming and crying and telling me she was hungry. She would eat for 20 minutes, fall asleep, and as soon as I would put her down in her crib she would start right back up again with her pathetic starving cry. Finally, I was so distraught and worn out that I fed her some formula* because I was sick of it. She took down the whole 2 ounces (she's only 4 days old here, so that's impressive) and slept like a rock the rest of the night. She was finally happy, but as I sat there feeding her the formula on the couch I sobbed. My exclusively breast-fed baby was drinking formula. I, as a mother, was stripping my child of valuable nutrients and anti-bodies just because I was tired. I was overcome with guilt. I felt like a horrible, selfish failure. I was also sleep-deprived, so I did not even try to suppress my tears. I was sobbing so loudly that Dave came out into the living room (aka the nursery) looking panicked and asking what was wrong with the baby. My response was, "She's drinking formula!" He just looked at me. I think he was worried about my sanity at that point, because his reply was, "Maybe you should call your mom in the morning and have her come stay with you and the baby." Ha. This makes me laugh now, but at the time I was so very upset. So after putting my happy, full baby to sleep I finally got some sleep myself. The next morning I got up and decided to try and pump, because if she's gonna eat from a bottle, at least it can be breastmilk. I couldn't even pump 2 ounces from the both of them. My poor girl had been trying so hard to nurse, but was getting nothing from it. That's why she had been so grumpy. She really was starving! That assuaged my guilt from the formula a little, but brought with it guilt about my stupid evil boobs trying to starve my baby and not working right. I did my best over the next few days to try and teach them that they needed to produce more for my kid, but at the same time I had to feed her more formula. I have managed not quite to quiet, but at least stifle the guilt that comes when I feed her formula. My milk has been a lot more plentiful, but she still has formula every now and then. Do I know this guilt is irrational? Yes I do. There are so many cases when women choose not to or cannot breastfeed, and it's not like that makes the difference between ivy league and community college later on. I just had made the decision that I would breast feed, and for me when I couldn't provide everything she needed it felt like a slap in the face from failure. I have done my best to convince my brain that getting nutrition from formula is better than getting no nutrition at all, and that sometimes it will honestly be impossible for me to nurse her. But I still get a twinge of guilt every time we make her a bottle. But no sobbing! Progress!
3. the change in priorities. Today is my birthday. People have been asking me what I want for my birthday for the last couple weeks. BR (before Reese) I had imagined that I would milk this birthday to its fullest, seeing as how I would be a brand new mom, frazzled, and in need of something extravagant. I feel the opposite now. I don't need anything, because I have everything. I have been unable to think of something I want, and when I do it's something like a Moby wrap, which will make carrying my sweet kid around easier. I live in a Reese-centric universe. Someone tell Galileo!
4. bionic ears. How is it that I can sleep through alarm clocks, but if my baby sighs in the next room, I can be roused from my REM cycle? Also, how does Dave sleep through it all!?
5. Nesting. Still. Pinterest has been my savior and favorite pal during the nighttime feedings. I have gotten about a billion DIY projects that I am going to do. Like this super sweet mobile (I am not going to show you the link, because I will post pictures after it's done. And then I will not tell you how easy it was) and some glowing jars. I am in craft-mode.
6. I didn't know that this much happiness could exist. When Dave and I fell in love I felt like my heart's capacity for love and happiness had expanded. It's done it again. Exponentially. We probably can't have more kids, because if this keeps happening I just might 'splode.
*Women who feed their babies formula are still wonderful mothers. In no way do I think women who breastfeed are superior or better mothers.
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