I recently spent a lunch-time out with a friend who is a little bit newer at the Mommy game than myself. Her 8 week old cutie was sleeping in his car seat and Abigail was standing and sitting on my lap very contentedly as we ate Greek food. Of course we weren’t in a sit-down restaurant; we ordered at the front and drank from paper cups at Daphne’s just in case one baby or the other required a very swift exit. We immediately set in talking about labor and feeding, sleeping and work-leave. I think she was feeling a little overwhelmed at the time and the topic quickly shifted to the hard parts of new parenthood. These things often go unsaid or glossed over, as it’s hard to convey that you love your baby more than anything, but each day is a struggle. I certainly had my moments of feeling this way, too, so in the interest of acknowledging the darker side of motherhood while reveling in the many perks, I offer this blog entry. To my friend, who will of course remain unnamed, here are some struggles off the top of my head. You are not alone. Being less than perfect does not make you a bad mother. I hope it feels easier soon. Your baby is a lucky little man, whose mother loves him and wants what is best for him. It will all be okay.
The classic first thought when one considers the trials of raising an infant is sleep deprivation. I actually expected to feel much worse, but I have about an hour almost every morning during which my brain and body tell me that I cannot do this. No way. Of course this is usually between 4 and 5 am, after the second or third or fourth feeding of the night. I feel SO TIRED. And my only opportunity to work out knowing that Jake and Abigail will be chatting along merrily lies at 6 am. Guess how often I make it to the gym? The worst part about this is that if I don’t go to the gym, I probably end up getting about 15-20 minutes more sleep. It never feels worth it later when I’m feeling completely out of shape and wishing I had forced myself out the door. If you know me, then you know how important workouts are for my sanity. I’m currently getting 1-3 workouts a week—and they are not long. This is definitely something I need to work on. Jake is totally willing to accommodate and help me reach a schedule that works for me, but it never feels like the right time. There’s always the next feeding or nap. She always needs me, and a part of me surely wants it that way, but I’m trying to recognize that we’d both be better off if we gain a little more flexibility.
I remember in the first few weeks after having Abigail, when Jake was home, I’d take a nice long shower sometime in the course of the day and wash off all the bodily fluids: pee, poop, spit up, sweat and most of all breast milk. Then I’d get out, start drying my hair, maybe even try to pluck my eyebrows or clip my fingernails, when suddenly I feel warm, wet liquid running down my stomach. Seriously, I just got clean. Breast milk was taking over my life. I was sure I would never, ever be clean again. I recognize now that my milk has regulated and I no longer go through 8 shirts in a day that this was a blessing. I was able to feed my baby girl, which is something many mothers these days struggle to do. I know so many moms who spend hours stressed and crying over pumps and formula-supplement-tubing trying to get it all right. I’m grateful that we didn’t have that struggle. Still, my body has not been my own for over a year now. It seems like pregnancy and postpartum consequences will never, ever end. I’m told my hair will eventually stop falling out and someday I will recognize my body again. I’m not convinced.
I don’t know how any mother at home can say that she is bored. I always, always, always have something to do: washing diapers, clothes and sheets, dishes, dinner, feeding, napping, waking up and needing to be put back to napping, reading, tummy time, spending more than 2 minutes talking to my husband, grocery shopping, walking, did I say feeding?, exercising, bathing, answering the phone, calming a fussy little miss, doctor’s appointments, medical bills, showering, downloading pictures, cooing, loving, never mind sleeping. I think I might be losing my ability to relax a little more each day, because I am constantly using my impressive (if I might say so myself) time-management skills to keep our world going. I used to have time to read, sleep, bake, exercise 6 days a week and go out to eat with my husband.
But it’s all worth it a million times over. Her eyes are the clincher. She looks at me and smiles, giggles, and goos. She loves me, because I spend all my time loving her. It’s a beautiful time and I treasure each stare. I know this is just the beginning, but I can't imagine it getting better. I just wish I could walk to my family’s houses for a visit, instead of driving 90-180 minutes one way.
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| Morning talking...I love the mismatched socks. |
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| Such a sweet face |
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| She looks at me with such expressiveness |
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| Tired girl |
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| Thanksgiving morning |
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| Enjoying the beach on a sunny winter day |
