It has been entirely too long since I've blogged, but motherhood happened and there's a never-ending to-do list that comes before "hobbies." I've always known a part of me that cannot relax if there are responsibilities waiting in the wings. I've known this, but since your arrival in my life I've gained new responsibilities and am never really "off the clock." It is difficult for me to sit and be still when I know there are dishes in the sink, or laundry to be done, or dog poop to scoop, or groceries to be bought, or time to be spent with you. Part of not being able to be still is also the inability for my mind to be still or silent (I hope you don't inherit this).
I have a lot on my mind as a wife and a mother - at times, it's overwhelming. I am doing enough for everyone. Is Dad getting enough time with just me? Are you and Dad getting enough time with each other? Are you getting enough from me as a mother? Am I patient enough? Am I present enough? Fun enough? Tough enough? Consistent enough? There's an endless questioning of whether I am enough. Throw all of these daily questions in with an ever present nagging question of whether or not I would like to try to have another child and you've got a mom who can get bogged down by the weight of it all.
About a week ago I was telling your dad that I was in a funk and kind of feeling like this decision I need to make was weighing very heavy on my heart. Should we try again? His response, "I don't know why you're stressed out about something you have absolute control over." While on the surface he is right, it's a little bit more complicated than that. I either do want to have another baby or I don't, but not knowing the answer to makes your dad's simple solution null. Not only did I not know my answer to that question, but history has made that decision a little bit more difficult to arrive at.
I've talked a lot about my miscarriage before you were born. I would have been right around 13 weeks when my first pregnancy ended. No rhyme or reason, the baby was just gone. This was incredibly difficult on me because, well, I am extremely hard on myself. I don't need anyone to tell me what I've done wrong or scold me when I mess up, because I've already been way harder on me than they could ever be. So when we lost that baby, of course my knee-jerk reaction was, "I had to have done something wrong." I took a bath and the water was too hot. I accidentally ate a soft cheese. I didn't give the baby good enough nutrition. I lifted weird at the gym. I didn't drink enough water. Anything I had done or potentially done in those 13 weeks, I was sure it was the cause of my miscarriage.
Now, hindsight is 20/20, and I know that this happened for a reason. It's most likely nothing I did but rather something genetically that did not line up. Who am I to question why my pregnancy did not go full-term. It made me and your dad learn to lean on each other in a way we hadn't experienced before and it showed me that I was a fighter and was not going to give up that easily. About three months after my miscarriage, we tried again, and became pregnant with you. This pregnancy was exciting, but not in the way that the first one was. There was an ignorance that was lost and a naiveté that could never be given back. I got pregnant easily the first time and lost that baby, so who was to say if this one would result in a full-term pregnancy either? If you are reading this then you obviously know the ending to that pregnancy.
You arrived and you were an angel. Truly, you were a great baby, and I'm not just saying that because I am your mom. If you need proof, I tell people all the time that you are not super graceful or coordinated. I'm honest about your strengths and weaknesses. Other than some usual breastfeeding issues and gassiness, we really had very few issues with you. You slept well, had a sweet disposition, went with the flow, and never got incredibly sick. You were a "good baby" and we still had an incredibly tough time. Nothing in our lives had ever been that time consuming, sleep deprivating, and emotionally taxing as having a newborn. We would joke (but were also serious) that if we had that hard of a time with such a good baby, what in the world would we do if we had a tough baby?
So, like I said, knowing what I know now and having gone through what we've gone through, I had been leaning more toward going with my head rather than my heart in an effort to protect my heart. The day after talking to Dad about the baby dilemma, I went to see my therapist (the same one I've had since you were about 5 months old) and we talked my feelings out. I admitted that my miscarriage plays a part in me being afraid, that I don't feel excited about trying, that I worry you are too old now and it will be too difficult to start over now that you are so independent. I admitted that I am finally feeling comfortable in my own skin and more like myself than I have in years and I'm afraid to allow my body to go through another pregnancy to just undo all the hard work I've done. We tried to figure out if I was being hesitant based on fear; fear of miscarriage, fear of feeling inadequate as a mother, fear of getting insanely depressed again or if I was just not making the decision to have another because I'm actually good with the family that I have. (Side note: My life is full to the peak with just you).
I mentioned to her that in the previous week I had met two strangers that both had children with significant age gaps (5 years and 6 years) and how I wondered if that was in some way God trying to tell me that the gap that would be between my children would be okay. By the end of the hour, she asked me how I was feeling after having been able to just talk out loud and I was actually in a better place of feeling like it could be exciting and that I think I do want to have another child if that's what God has in store for me.
On my drive from therapy to go pick you up from school I began to think about how special it was/is that I get to be so involved in your life. I have countless hours with you and when you were a baby and I was in the thick of depression/anxiety, you were there with me. For a good portion of your life, it's been you and me, Sissy. I got to soak up every moment with you and watch you grow without having to manage any other children. I thought about how lately your dad's go-to advice for me has been "change your perspective" and how that is what I needed to do with this whole having another baby thing. And, so I did.
What if I miscarry? Then Dad and I will grow even closer. It's going to be such a pain to start all over again in the infancy stage now that you are so independent. No, because you are independent, I will not have two toddlers to manage at the same time. I will have a baby with a sibling in school so I can spend quality time with #2 and soak up all of the magic that comes with the baby phase. I will have a helper. Lillie, you letting the dog out and in to do his business is a small thing but a game changer so I can only imagine how nice it will be to say, "Hey, can you grab mommy that diaper?" or, "Hurry, run get that poopy diaper before the dog grabs it." Yep, it happened, Lillie. It happened.
I have a goal to read the Bible start to finish this year and so during my daily reading the other day, I came across a verse that I have honestly never paid much attention to. It's Exodus 14, verse 14, right before Moses parts the Red Sea and it says, "The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still." This really resonated with me because I am one of those people who is always presently stressing to make sure I don't stress in the future. Isn't that the dumbest? (I also hope you didn't inherit this). I over plan and try to control things so much to avoid catastrophe later when all I have to do is be still. I don't have to be anxious worrying about the what-ifs. I don't have to be discouraged or feel hopeless when life throws a curveball.
The Israelites in that passage were hopeless feeling like they were in an impossible situation but what they should have realized at that moment was it was a situation that the Lord had put them in. They only needed to be still and let Him fight their battle because He had promised He would bring them out of Egypt and into the Promised Land. They couldn't see a way around their problem but God did. He made a way, He does that in my life all the time, and He will do that in yours too.
If I decide I want to try to have a baby, He will fight my battles; whether they be battles from a miscarriage, battles of pregnancy, battles of depression, battles of inadequacy, battles of fear, or battles of parenting two children - He will fight for me; I need only be still.
So, Lillie James, if there is ever something in your life that you are battling and you feel like you are going at it alone, remember, He brought you to the Red Sea in your life and He will part the waters to get you through it.
XOXO,
Mommy
Tuesday, January 28, 2020
Tuesday, February 6, 2018
#9
Lillie James,
I can't believe you are 21 months old. (By the way, I much prefer to say that you will be two in April when people ask me how old you are but for the purposes of the topic of this blog, I am going to say 21 months old because it will paint a better picture of just how far you and I have come in the last 17 months).
About a week ago, as I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, I saw a post by a TV personality* (who is always refreshingly honest) in which she stated, "Today marks the day I am DONE with breastfeeding. Gave it a good almost 3 months and I am retiring the boobs. Writing this in hopes that it will make other mothers feel less alone. You see, I'm not quitting because my milk supply dried up or because I'm sick . . . I'm quitting because I'm just plain OVER IT. By CHOICE. I know I will get lectured and judged by this but it doesn't bother me. I need some freedom back for my sanity and the bottle and formula will allow that. You are NOT a bad mother if you don't like breastfeeding. A happy Mama is the best gift you can give your baby. (At least in my opinion)."
It's been 17 months since I quit breastfeeding you and about 18 months since I began grappling with whether or not I would be ruining your life if I quit. You see, as a new mom, things like quitting breastfeeding or what temperature your room is at night seem like monumental decisions that will affect your growth, development, safety, and intelligence. There are what seems like an endless slew of decisions to make and the gravity of those decisions can sometimes feel like an insurmountable endeavor.
You see, before you were even born I had people asking if was going to breastfeed you. Every visit to the OB would start off with, "Do you feel safe at home? Any questions or concerns? Do you plan on breastfeeding the child when he/she is born?" They handed out gobs of literature on breastfeeding and your dad and I paid for a class about it in which they put the fear of God in you that if you didn't breastfeed your child, he/she would possibly have asthma, would possibly be sick all the time, would possibly be overweight, and that breastfeed children are generally more intelligent. I would always answer their nagging (and personal) question of, "Do you plan on breastfeeding the baby when he/she is born?" with, "Yes, but if it doesn't work, I will be doing formula." (Cue more stock responses about how it's important to breastfeed la la la la la).
Now, before having you, there was absolutely no way to stimulate all that comes along with breastfeeding: The physical toll, the emotional toll, the mental toll, the equipment needed, the going to the store with breast milk stains on your shirt, the creams for your nipples, the weird remedies for low milk supply or clogged ducts. It was a can of worms that was opened during our second moments together (I passed out during our first) when a nurse was trying to show me how to get you to latch onto me at midnight. Anything anyone is trying to show me at midnight is going to be an issue, because well, I am not a night owl, my love.
It did not go very well. My milk hadn't come in yet so they had a lactation consultant come into the room to help me figure it out. Bless her heart, she meant well, but she was too much. She would have been too much at 8:00 a.m., high noon, five in the evening; but, it was the middle of the night so naturally, I wanted to murder her. We had to stay in the hospital for a few days because of my c-section and you being the tiniest bit jaundice; during that stay I tried getting you to latch so many different ways but you just weren't really getting anything and were not gaining so we had to give you formula but in an effort to not cause nipple confusion we attached the tiniest tube to the formula and set the end of tube right by my nipple so that you could still latch but be getting formula. It was a lot and very overwhelming as a new mother.
We took you home and I was in for my second surprise about motherhood. In eighth grade, we were given a fake baby that we had to take care of in hopes of scaring us out of having a baby at a young age. You are given a key that has to stay on your wrist because let's face it, it would be too easy for parents to help their kids otherwise. (Sidenote: Ask your dad about how your Poppy still managed to take care of your dad's baby despite the key being on his wrist someday because it speaks volumes to just how much parents do for their kids and how sweet your Poppy is). So, back to this baby - when I had mine for the night I never woke up even though the baby was lying next to me. Your Nonna had to keep coming to wake me up. And even still, I got pretty lucky and it didn't cry all that much so it didn't really prepare me at all for motherhood.
The problem with that baby is real babies are not something you can just hold a key in to meet their needs. When you woke up every 2-3 hours, you needed me, and only me. I had what you needed and all my helpers could tell I was losing it from a lack of sleep and suggested that I pump so they could wake up and give you a bottle. The suggestion was sweet and thoughtful, but I would always respond with, "I will still have to wake up to pump so it's easier to just feed her and go back to sleep." I couldn't just lay you beside me and hold a key inside of you until you quit crying. The only thing that would have help was if somehow everyone just had an abundant supply of breastmilk on hand. Oh, that and the fact that me skipping would cause some kind of painful breast issue.
In the first month and a half, I started to get the hang of it somewhat and I liked it because it was something that I could do to have one on one time with you during a slew of visitors. It was a much needed break for me, but it soon began to take it's toll. Before you, I knew I always loved a good night's sleep and needed a little more than some people (a good 8 or 9 hours is what I like to achieve) so you waking up every 2-3 hours was weighing on me emotionally and mentally. That paired with the fact that I felt trapped in the sense that if I was gone too long, you would starve or I would begin leaking everywhere. It was such a strange thing to me to have someone be fully dependent on me and the process felt very weird to me.
I am not a touchy feely person. I am as modest as they come. So, the whole thing felt very much like being in a science fiction movie and all I kept thinking was, "This will only get more and more weird." I never felt comfortable feeding you in front of people, even with the ponchos, covers, etc. I HATED IT. Which then made any plans we would try to make revolve around when I would need to feed you. I spent many feedings in cars at restaurants or in random rooms at people's houses because I just wanted to be alone and to get it over with. The flip side of this was seeing moms who were breastfeeding in public and thinking, "Why can't I do that as easily as they could?" The whole movement where we should't judge moms for openly feeding in public and that they should be allowed to do so at any time and in any place is wonderful but the counterpart of that would be the moms that aren't as comfortable with it or the ones that couldn't/didn't want to breastfeed being made to feel ashamed that they weren't out in the park whipping out their breast for their baby while filing their taxes.
Lillie James, you'd be surprised by the audacity of some people to comment to your face on how you choose to raise your child. When you were about 5 months old (and 1 month into strictly formula) I was staying with your Nonna and Papaw because I was pretty sick and they offered to watch you while I rested and recovered. I finally broke down and went to see a doctor (some random NP that took walk-ins). She saw that I had a child and asked me if was breastfeeding. This in and of itself was a relevant and permissible question because it directly pertained to what she may or may not be prescribing to me. What transpired after I answered that I had quit a month prior was not acceptable or appropriate. This woman, who didn't know me from Adam, didn't know my story, didn't know my struggles, didn't know you, and most importantly DID NOT CARRY YOU for 9 months nor was her name on your birth certificate decided to say, "It's too bad you quit; you probably didn't need to" and then proceeded to give me advice for the next child that I would have. I wish I would have had the gumption I do know because I would have had a "come to Jesus" meeting with her about when to keep your mouth shut.
I am telling you all of this because one day, you might be a mom. One day, you might have someone shoving your boob into your baby's mouth and I want you to have the confidence to speak up for yourself. I want you to be able to, if it comes to it, make the choice to switch to formula with no apprehension and trust that you know what is best for you and your baby. I switched you to formula when you were 5 months old because I was getting clogged ducts right and left, pumping to try and relieve them, dipping my breast in saltwater to heal the cracked nipples, and I wasn't sleeping through the night which was wreaking havoc on my mental state. My life had become breastfeeding. I couldn't enjoy the sweet, tender moments with you to the fullest because breastfeeding was wearing me out mentally and physically. For my sanity, I made the decision to switch to formula.
Looking back it was the best decision I could have made for myself and for you. There's an analogy that is often used when dealing with overwhelmed mothers and it really helps to put things into perspective: Any time you fly and a flight attendant is making his/her spiel about what to do in the even of an emergency they always tell you if you are traveling with a child to put on your oxygen mask before you put on your child's. With your oxygen mask on, you will be way more equipped to take care of your child. It was the same thing for me and breastfeeding.
The decision to switch to formula from breastmilk was a lot like putting my oxygen mask on first. It gave me the freedom to allow your dad (or grandparents if they were around) to help me by doing some of the nighttime feedings which in turn meant getting a good night's sleep which was something that was in large part contributing to my postpartum depression. Getting to sleep through the night was a game changer because it meant I was rested up for the following day where you and I were together, alone, for 8 hours.
It also allowed me to feel more comfortable with leaving the house with you because I knew I could just pack some formula and a bottle of water and I could feed you anywhere we would be . . . EVEN OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE IN THE MIDDLE OF DINNER AT A RESTAURANT. Again, game changer. I was no longer feeling trapped and chained to when you would need to be breastfed. It opened the door for me to be able to enjoy my moments with you.
17 months have passed since making that decision and you know what? You are a very healthy, happy, and well-adjusted baby (almost toddler). You are very smart; you amaze your daddy and I every day. Your outgoing personality is impressive to an extreme introvert like myself. You've never met a stranger and you love to tell people what you are wearing. I took you to the store recently and you told a guy everything you were wearing. "Flowers, britches, boots, and socks."
You know all of your colors. You can count to 14 if you are focused. My favorite thing is how you like to start at 11 most of the time. You know the letter X and think most letters are B or Y. Sometimes you pick up something with words on it and "read" it. It usually goes a little something like this. "B, Y, E, X, D, B, 11, 12, 13, 14!!" Your vocabulary is very impressive and talking has always been something that you have just loved to do. It's crazy how many words a day you acquire. I just wish your dad was around more to teach you some of the more obscure words that I don't utilize daily.
My decision to not breastfeed you was my own, was one I stand by, and is one that shouldn't be anyone's business. All that to say, if you are a mom someday and you want to breastfeed, I will be your biggest advocate and if you want to switch to formula, I will support you in that endeavor. I will champion you every step of the way. I love you and am grateful that I get to spend every day watching you grow. You amaze me constantly.
XOXO,
Mommy
* @camwimberly1
I can't believe you are 21 months old. (By the way, I much prefer to say that you will be two in April when people ask me how old you are but for the purposes of the topic of this blog, I am going to say 21 months old because it will paint a better picture of just how far you and I have come in the last 17 months).
About a week ago, as I was mindlessly scrolling through Instagram, I saw a post by a TV personality* (who is always refreshingly honest) in which she stated, "Today marks the day I am DONE with breastfeeding. Gave it a good almost 3 months and I am retiring the boobs. Writing this in hopes that it will make other mothers feel less alone. You see, I'm not quitting because my milk supply dried up or because I'm sick . . . I'm quitting because I'm just plain OVER IT. By CHOICE. I know I will get lectured and judged by this but it doesn't bother me. I need some freedom back for my sanity and the bottle and formula will allow that. You are NOT a bad mother if you don't like breastfeeding. A happy Mama is the best gift you can give your baby. (At least in my opinion)."
It's been 17 months since I quit breastfeeding you and about 18 months since I began grappling with whether or not I would be ruining your life if I quit. You see, as a new mom, things like quitting breastfeeding or what temperature your room is at night seem like monumental decisions that will affect your growth, development, safety, and intelligence. There are what seems like an endless slew of decisions to make and the gravity of those decisions can sometimes feel like an insurmountable endeavor.
You see, before you were even born I had people asking if was going to breastfeed you. Every visit to the OB would start off with, "Do you feel safe at home? Any questions or concerns? Do you plan on breastfeeding the child when he/she is born?" They handed out gobs of literature on breastfeeding and your dad and I paid for a class about it in which they put the fear of God in you that if you didn't breastfeed your child, he/she would possibly have asthma, would possibly be sick all the time, would possibly be overweight, and that breastfeed children are generally more intelligent. I would always answer their nagging (and personal) question of, "Do you plan on breastfeeding the baby when he/she is born?" with, "Yes, but if it doesn't work, I will be doing formula." (Cue more stock responses about how it's important to breastfeed la la la la la).
Now, before having you, there was absolutely no way to stimulate all that comes along with breastfeeding: The physical toll, the emotional toll, the mental toll, the equipment needed, the going to the store with breast milk stains on your shirt, the creams for your nipples, the weird remedies for low milk supply or clogged ducts. It was a can of worms that was opened during our second moments together (I passed out during our first) when a nurse was trying to show me how to get you to latch onto me at midnight. Anything anyone is trying to show me at midnight is going to be an issue, because well, I am not a night owl, my love.
It did not go very well. My milk hadn't come in yet so they had a lactation consultant come into the room to help me figure it out. Bless her heart, she meant well, but she was too much. She would have been too much at 8:00 a.m., high noon, five in the evening; but, it was the middle of the night so naturally, I wanted to murder her. We had to stay in the hospital for a few days because of my c-section and you being the tiniest bit jaundice; during that stay I tried getting you to latch so many different ways but you just weren't really getting anything and were not gaining so we had to give you formula but in an effort to not cause nipple confusion we attached the tiniest tube to the formula and set the end of tube right by my nipple so that you could still latch but be getting formula. It was a lot and very overwhelming as a new mother.
We took you home and I was in for my second surprise about motherhood. In eighth grade, we were given a fake baby that we had to take care of in hopes of scaring us out of having a baby at a young age. You are given a key that has to stay on your wrist because let's face it, it would be too easy for parents to help their kids otherwise. (Sidenote: Ask your dad about how your Poppy still managed to take care of your dad's baby despite the key being on his wrist someday because it speaks volumes to just how much parents do for their kids and how sweet your Poppy is). So, back to this baby - when I had mine for the night I never woke up even though the baby was lying next to me. Your Nonna had to keep coming to wake me up. And even still, I got pretty lucky and it didn't cry all that much so it didn't really prepare me at all for motherhood.
The problem with that baby is real babies are not something you can just hold a key in to meet their needs. When you woke up every 2-3 hours, you needed me, and only me. I had what you needed and all my helpers could tell I was losing it from a lack of sleep and suggested that I pump so they could wake up and give you a bottle. The suggestion was sweet and thoughtful, but I would always respond with, "I will still have to wake up to pump so it's easier to just feed her and go back to sleep." I couldn't just lay you beside me and hold a key inside of you until you quit crying. The only thing that would have help was if somehow everyone just had an abundant supply of breastmilk on hand. Oh, that and the fact that me skipping would cause some kind of painful breast issue.
In the first month and a half, I started to get the hang of it somewhat and I liked it because it was something that I could do to have one on one time with you during a slew of visitors. It was a much needed break for me, but it soon began to take it's toll. Before you, I knew I always loved a good night's sleep and needed a little more than some people (a good 8 or 9 hours is what I like to achieve) so you waking up every 2-3 hours was weighing on me emotionally and mentally. That paired with the fact that I felt trapped in the sense that if I was gone too long, you would starve or I would begin leaking everywhere. It was such a strange thing to me to have someone be fully dependent on me and the process felt very weird to me.
I am not a touchy feely person. I am as modest as they come. So, the whole thing felt very much like being in a science fiction movie and all I kept thinking was, "This will only get more and more weird." I never felt comfortable feeding you in front of people, even with the ponchos, covers, etc. I HATED IT. Which then made any plans we would try to make revolve around when I would need to feed you. I spent many feedings in cars at restaurants or in random rooms at people's houses because I just wanted to be alone and to get it over with. The flip side of this was seeing moms who were breastfeeding in public and thinking, "Why can't I do that as easily as they could?" The whole movement where we should't judge moms for openly feeding in public and that they should be allowed to do so at any time and in any place is wonderful but the counterpart of that would be the moms that aren't as comfortable with it or the ones that couldn't/didn't want to breastfeed being made to feel ashamed that they weren't out in the park whipping out their breast for their baby while filing their taxes.
Lillie James, you'd be surprised by the audacity of some people to comment to your face on how you choose to raise your child. When you were about 5 months old (and 1 month into strictly formula) I was staying with your Nonna and Papaw because I was pretty sick and they offered to watch you while I rested and recovered. I finally broke down and went to see a doctor (some random NP that took walk-ins). She saw that I had a child and asked me if was breastfeeding. This in and of itself was a relevant and permissible question because it directly pertained to what she may or may not be prescribing to me. What transpired after I answered that I had quit a month prior was not acceptable or appropriate. This woman, who didn't know me from Adam, didn't know my story, didn't know my struggles, didn't know you, and most importantly DID NOT CARRY YOU for 9 months nor was her name on your birth certificate decided to say, "It's too bad you quit; you probably didn't need to" and then proceeded to give me advice for the next child that I would have. I wish I would have had the gumption I do know because I would have had a "come to Jesus" meeting with her about when to keep your mouth shut.
I am telling you all of this because one day, you might be a mom. One day, you might have someone shoving your boob into your baby's mouth and I want you to have the confidence to speak up for yourself. I want you to be able to, if it comes to it, make the choice to switch to formula with no apprehension and trust that you know what is best for you and your baby. I switched you to formula when you were 5 months old because I was getting clogged ducts right and left, pumping to try and relieve them, dipping my breast in saltwater to heal the cracked nipples, and I wasn't sleeping through the night which was wreaking havoc on my mental state. My life had become breastfeeding. I couldn't enjoy the sweet, tender moments with you to the fullest because breastfeeding was wearing me out mentally and physically. For my sanity, I made the decision to switch to formula.
Looking back it was the best decision I could have made for myself and for you. There's an analogy that is often used when dealing with overwhelmed mothers and it really helps to put things into perspective: Any time you fly and a flight attendant is making his/her spiel about what to do in the even of an emergency they always tell you if you are traveling with a child to put on your oxygen mask before you put on your child's. With your oxygen mask on, you will be way more equipped to take care of your child. It was the same thing for me and breastfeeding.
The decision to switch to formula from breastmilk was a lot like putting my oxygen mask on first. It gave me the freedom to allow your dad (or grandparents if they were around) to help me by doing some of the nighttime feedings which in turn meant getting a good night's sleep which was something that was in large part contributing to my postpartum depression. Getting to sleep through the night was a game changer because it meant I was rested up for the following day where you and I were together, alone, for 8 hours.
It also allowed me to feel more comfortable with leaving the house with you because I knew I could just pack some formula and a bottle of water and I could feed you anywhere we would be . . . EVEN OUT IN PUBLIC LIKE IN THE MIDDLE OF DINNER AT A RESTAURANT. Again, game changer. I was no longer feeling trapped and chained to when you would need to be breastfed. It opened the door for me to be able to enjoy my moments with you.
17 months have passed since making that decision and you know what? You are a very healthy, happy, and well-adjusted baby (almost toddler). You are very smart; you amaze your daddy and I every day. Your outgoing personality is impressive to an extreme introvert like myself. You've never met a stranger and you love to tell people what you are wearing. I took you to the store recently and you told a guy everything you were wearing. "Flowers, britches, boots, and socks."
You know all of your colors. You can count to 14 if you are focused. My favorite thing is how you like to start at 11 most of the time. You know the letter X and think most letters are B or Y. Sometimes you pick up something with words on it and "read" it. It usually goes a little something like this. "B, Y, E, X, D, B, 11, 12, 13, 14!!" Your vocabulary is very impressive and talking has always been something that you have just loved to do. It's crazy how many words a day you acquire. I just wish your dad was around more to teach you some of the more obscure words that I don't utilize daily.
My decision to not breastfeed you was my own, was one I stand by, and is one that shouldn't be anyone's business. All that to say, if you are a mom someday and you want to breastfeed, I will be your biggest advocate and if you want to switch to formula, I will support you in that endeavor. I will champion you every step of the way. I love you and am grateful that I get to spend every day watching you grow. You amaze me constantly.
XOXO,
Mommy
* @camwimberly1
Thursday, September 28, 2017
#8
Lillie James,
You are just the sweetest thing in the world. You have a little bit of a defiant attitude (somewhat ornery) from time to time, but most of the time you are so sweet. You are a little ham. You love to laugh and make people laugh. You are so outgoing and I love every minute of it because it is the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of who I am with strangers (and even people I know). When I was growing up and going through school, your Nonna would go to parent-teacher conferences to see how I was doing in school and they would always report good things but would say that I "never talked." I have a feeling that your reports will be more like your daddy's in that you will be doing well in school but you will talk too much.
The other day I took you to the grocery store with me and had you in the cart. We were strolling around the store and you would say very loudly, "Hi!!!" to any and every stranger. The nice ones that say "Hi!" back to you are my favorite because they are inevitably fostering your sweet, kind outgoing personality. If we began to stroll away from anyone you would say, "Byyye!" to whoever was around. Then, randomly you began to say, "DADA!!!!" over and over again. I told you time and time again, "He's at work, baby." I was beginning to think that strangers would think I'd kidnapped you and you were desperately trying to get back to your dad because of how many times you called out for him. But, this has become a pattern everywhere we go in that you call out for your dad. It's the sweetest.
You have the craziest memory. You remind me of your uncle Zak in home videos I have seen of him "reading" books that he had just completely memorized word for word. I have a set of about 24 flash cards with animals on them and each flash card has a different animal on each side. You have played with them off and on but we hadn't gotten them out in over a week until one night I pulled them out. I really needed to clean the kitchen and you had been attached to my hip lately (literally) so I decided to lay them all out on the kitchen floor with the tiger flash card face down so I could tell you to find the tiger. I laid them out and said, "Find the tiger," and within seconds you went straight for the card with the eagle which has the tiger on the other side. I laughed and said, "Your memory is freaky, Lil." Needless to say, this activity did not buy me the time I had hoped it would.
You have a little book called "Babies on the Farm" that I love to read to you because you "read" it with me by trying to say the words like I do (some words are nonsense but you use the same inflection that I do) and you anticipate each animal that is coming on the next page by either saying the animal or the sound before we even turn the page. You memorize these little books so quickly and are just a sponge for learning. You are helping me convince your Papaw that the degree I earned and he helped pay for was all worth it because I am indeed teaching you things every day. And what's even better than the words you are learning and shapes and colors is that I get to instill in you things like kindness, patience, sharing, etc. And you help me be a better person because I don't want you to see me do anything that is not Christlike and emulate that.
One of my favorite things you do as of the last couple months is the sound you make when you put on your necklaces or when you have me and daddy put on your necklaces. You say, "Oooooo!!!" and then act very bashful as if you are embarrassed of the attention but you don't fool us; we know you soak up every minute of attention you get.
You are mildly obsessed with the moon. When you first recognized the moon and said the word, it was, "moot." It was the cutest but daddy was trying very hard one night to get you to say the n at the end of moon and so he emphasized the n by saying, "moo-na," so sure enough, you began saying it the same way. You love to call out for things when you don't know where they are in the way someone would if they were out looking for a missing person or dog. So, for days it was, "Mooooo-na? Mooooo-na?" You are always looking for the moon when we are outside, day or night. And sometimes you find it during the day when I didn't even realize it was there.
You think every letter is "A" and it's the cutest. It's my favorite when we are out in public and you say, "A!" and I look at a word you've seen that has an "A." You love to count to three and when your dad and I continue counting you sometimes say six, seven, eight, and ten. Never four and never nine. It's so sweet.
You are very into giving kisses recently and my favorite is when I catch you giving your baby a kiss and telling her, "Nine-nine" (night-night). This shows me that you have picked up on the routines we have with you and you have seen love being shown in these ways and it makes me happy to know that you have picked up on it.
You love going to Daddy's office to see him and you run around like you own the place. You say, "Hiii!" to all the patients and you manage to always make people smile. You call out for your dad when he is in a room treating a patient. You get the sweetest smile when you see him come out of the room and you insist that he holds you. You are not a big fan of watching Dad adjust me though. You are getting much better because we smile a lot and then cheer when he is done. You've come pretty far from the time you began crying when he adjusted my neck.
You make us laugh every day and we love watching you grow and develop day after day.
Xoxo,
Mommy
You are just the sweetest thing in the world. You have a little bit of a defiant attitude (somewhat ornery) from time to time, but most of the time you are so sweet. You are a little ham. You love to laugh and make people laugh. You are so outgoing and I love every minute of it because it is the COMPLETE OPPOSITE of who I am with strangers (and even people I know). When I was growing up and going through school, your Nonna would go to parent-teacher conferences to see how I was doing in school and they would always report good things but would say that I "never talked." I have a feeling that your reports will be more like your daddy's in that you will be doing well in school but you will talk too much.
The other day I took you to the grocery store with me and had you in the cart. We were strolling around the store and you would say very loudly, "Hi!!!" to any and every stranger. The nice ones that say "Hi!" back to you are my favorite because they are inevitably fostering your sweet, kind outgoing personality. If we began to stroll away from anyone you would say, "Byyye!" to whoever was around. Then, randomly you began to say, "DADA!!!!" over and over again. I told you time and time again, "He's at work, baby." I was beginning to think that strangers would think I'd kidnapped you and you were desperately trying to get back to your dad because of how many times you called out for him. But, this has become a pattern everywhere we go in that you call out for your dad. It's the sweetest.
You have the craziest memory. You remind me of your uncle Zak in home videos I have seen of him "reading" books that he had just completely memorized word for word. I have a set of about 24 flash cards with animals on them and each flash card has a different animal on each side. You have played with them off and on but we hadn't gotten them out in over a week until one night I pulled them out. I really needed to clean the kitchen and you had been attached to my hip lately (literally) so I decided to lay them all out on the kitchen floor with the tiger flash card face down so I could tell you to find the tiger. I laid them out and said, "Find the tiger," and within seconds you went straight for the card with the eagle which has the tiger on the other side. I laughed and said, "Your memory is freaky, Lil." Needless to say, this activity did not buy me the time I had hoped it would.
You have a little book called "Babies on the Farm" that I love to read to you because you "read" it with me by trying to say the words like I do (some words are nonsense but you use the same inflection that I do) and you anticipate each animal that is coming on the next page by either saying the animal or the sound before we even turn the page. You memorize these little books so quickly and are just a sponge for learning. You are helping me convince your Papaw that the degree I earned and he helped pay for was all worth it because I am indeed teaching you things every day. And what's even better than the words you are learning and shapes and colors is that I get to instill in you things like kindness, patience, sharing, etc. And you help me be a better person because I don't want you to see me do anything that is not Christlike and emulate that.
One of my favorite things you do as of the last couple months is the sound you make when you put on your necklaces or when you have me and daddy put on your necklaces. You say, "Oooooo!!!" and then act very bashful as if you are embarrassed of the attention but you don't fool us; we know you soak up every minute of attention you get.
You are mildly obsessed with the moon. When you first recognized the moon and said the word, it was, "moot." It was the cutest but daddy was trying very hard one night to get you to say the n at the end of moon and so he emphasized the n by saying, "moo-na," so sure enough, you began saying it the same way. You love to call out for things when you don't know where they are in the way someone would if they were out looking for a missing person or dog. So, for days it was, "Mooooo-na? Mooooo-na?" You are always looking for the moon when we are outside, day or night. And sometimes you find it during the day when I didn't even realize it was there.
You think every letter is "A" and it's the cutest. It's my favorite when we are out in public and you say, "A!" and I look at a word you've seen that has an "A." You love to count to three and when your dad and I continue counting you sometimes say six, seven, eight, and ten. Never four and never nine. It's so sweet.
You are very into giving kisses recently and my favorite is when I catch you giving your baby a kiss and telling her, "Nine-nine" (night-night). This shows me that you have picked up on the routines we have with you and you have seen love being shown in these ways and it makes me happy to know that you have picked up on it.
You love going to Daddy's office to see him and you run around like you own the place. You say, "Hiii!" to all the patients and you manage to always make people smile. You call out for your dad when he is in a room treating a patient. You get the sweetest smile when you see him come out of the room and you insist that he holds you. You are not a big fan of watching Dad adjust me though. You are getting much better because we smile a lot and then cheer when he is done. You've come pretty far from the time you began crying when he adjusted my neck.
You make us laugh every day and we love watching you grow and develop day after day.
Xoxo,
Mommy
Tuesday, April 4, 2017
#7
Lillie,
You are turning one in two weeks. How is this even possible? No, really, how? It seems like yesterday I was posting pictures of pregnant orangutans and saying, "Where's Lillie James?" because according to science, you were supposed to be making your way out at any moment. It seems like yesterday your daddy was exhausted and overwhelmed in the hospital saying, "I can do the diapers but I can't do this crying." (Don't worry, I sent him into the hall to take a break and breathe. He came back so quickly, said he had prayed, and had a change of heart.) We would soon come to find out that the roles would reverse and he would be saying to me, "Why do you leave for a little while and take a break. We're fine. She's fine." or "Are you sure you are going to be okay? I can stay home." It only took a couple months to realize the gravity of his willingness to stay home (you see, he's kind of a hustler when it comes to his job). I googled Postpartum Depression and began to highlight all of the things on the list that pertained to me and for the first time felt somewhat understood.
Mommy was a mess - literally and figuratively. (Side note: You WILL know how to use "literally" properly even if it's the only thing I teach you). I rarely showered. There were days when it would be 3:00 p.m. and I would wonder if I had brushed my teeth and usually, I hadn't. I wore the same three night gowns almost daily, unless we went out and then I would wear workout pants and one of two t-shirts. I'm still currently wearing mostly the workout pants and t-shirts but, that's a work in progress. I cried, a lot. I laid in bed at night thinking about how wonderful it would be if I could just jump in the car and drive far, far away. Your dad thought I was certifiably crazy. And, we took LOTS of drives. Like, instead of toys, blankets, and diapers at your baby shower; they should have given me gas cards because the car was my safe haven.
We listened to the same Sandi Patty Lullaby CD which was like a sleeping potion for you. No joke, I've probably listened to that CD at least 1,000 times. I would put you in the car, turn on the CD, grab a Dr. Pepper at Sonic (Mommy pretty much ran on Dr. Pepper - so much so that Sonic and Dr. Pepper should have sponsored our drives), and we would drive all over Rio Rancho/Albuquerque. I would listen to podcasts in my headphones and use up all the data of our monthly shared data plan. Your Uncle Cory would text me and be like, "Girl! Quit using all the data." I think he would forgive me now that he knows what I was dealing with. (I also took the necessary steps to not do that once I figured out how). Our drives are what got me through the day - I felt the most in control when we were on our drives.
I didn't venture out too much because I was always afraid of doing everything wrong and being judged by other moms. I wasn't sure where exactly to put you when we went shopping. I would see moms with the carseat up on the top of the cart and it would make me a nervous wreck so I didn't want to do that. I saw some moms with the car seat in the cart but I thought, "Where the heck do you put all of your groceries?" So, if we went shopping at all, I kept you in your stroller and stuffed all the groceries in the bottom of it and still felt judged for doing that. I would struggle to put shoes on you because people bothered me about your feet all the time. It was just easier to either stay home with you or go for a drive.
I started going to therapy for my postpartum depression when you were about 4 months old. This is also when I quit breastfeeding, which I think fed into my depression more because I was struggling to get you to eat, I wasn't sleeping because you needed food at night, and no one could help me fully because you relied on me for food. I began to feel trapped by breastfeeding and after a lot of crying and mulling over the decision I switched to formula. I cried a lot in my first therapy session because it was the first time I had really ever said some of the things I had been thinking out loud and it was the first time I felt like someone really understood what I was going through. My therapist made me feel sane for the first time in a long time.
Fast-forward to you being almost 7 months old and me being at about a 3 depression wise, I decided to sleep train you and it was the worst to hear you cry for probably 35 minutes the first day (someone is reading this going, "YOU LET HER CRY IT OUT?!?!?!" and we will get to that later). Then the second day it was less, then the third day less again, then the fourth, the fifth, etc. and eventually, I was able to lay you down in your crib at approximately the same time every day and you went right to sleep. This was a huge turning point in our relationship because I again felt like I was getting some control and consistency back in my life to know, "Okay, I at least have one hour to do whatever I need or want." Usually, what I needed and wanted was to eat a meal, sit and watch terrible reality TV, or clean the house. It seems crazy that it was 5 months ago and now you are almost a year old. I've learned so much through the last year about myself and about motherhood.
The biggest thing I've learned about myself is that I am a lot more selfish than I ever thought or realized. I need sleep to be a lovely person and by sleep, I mean a solid 9 hours. 10 is best, but 9 will do, anything less is just rubbish. I realized this about myself when you would wake up to eat at 11, eat until about 11:45, go back to sleep at 12, wake up again 2 hours later, and I would stomp to your room while your dad said, "Are you okay?" For the record, my response was always either to ignore him or sternly say, "NO." See, not so lovely on less than 9 hours of sleep. Once we started giving you formula, daddy could help and was my savior. I hired him as the night nurse although really he volunteered. You love him now because he is loud, does cool tricks, and makes you laugh but soon you will realize that he is a gem because of his heart, selflessness, and go-with-the-flow attitude. We can only hope you are as laid back as him and your Papi.
I always knew that I needed alone time to reenergize but I never quite knew just how much until I had you. There had always been a time in my day where I had alone time either because I chose it or your dad was at work later than me. Then, you came along, and suddenly I had someone who constantly needed me. And while that's flattering and empowering, it also made me feel very drained. I have never had someone who always needed me. Your dad needed me occasionally when I would get a text when he was in school saying, "Sugar, I forgot my lunch. Any way you could bring me some lunch?" or when he would say, "Can you go with me to the bank to get a money order. I've never gotten one and you are just better at that kind of stuff." (I make him call the TV company). It was important for my mental health that I have just a minute to myself every day where someone else was watching you and I could truly be off the clock and your daddy provided me with that by coming home every day after he worked and offering to let me leave the house for a little while.
I've learned that it's important for me to do what I think is best for you and for me, even if other people disagree. I told you I would get back to letting you cry it out. There was a time that in order to get you to take a nap we had to swaddle you, cover your face with a blankie (you loved this), and bounce you like you were on the bumpiest dirt road. Then there came a time where you didn't want to be bounced but rather you wanted us to walk really fast back and forth. Then there came a time when the walking didn't work and the bouncing didn't work and I found myself leaping around in circles with you in my arms. This is where the sleep training came in.
You were just a little over six months and I decided for your well being and my well being, you needed to learn how to nap and you needed to be able to put yourself to sleep without the crazy antics. (Not to mention you could no longer be swaddled). Mommy asked some friends (angels really) and did some reading about the extinction method and we went to work. Some people probably would not do sleep training the way I did, but for us, it was what needed to happen. Now, I put you down for your naps and 9/10 you go to sleep right away. Occasionally you cry, but that's usually when you don't feel well. This was so beneficial for me because when we started this you took three naps a day and according to the method, you had to be in your crib for one hour whether you were crying, playing, talking, sitting, sleeping, etc., which meant I knew I had three hours (at least) during the day to have some me time. I told your daddy the other day that my greatest achievement over the last year is that I was able to sleep train you.
I've learned that I know you best and I need to let others comments roll off my shoulders. I used to take you out and not put socks on you because they always fell off anyway and your hands and feet were always warm and sweaty naturally. You get that from your dad. People would touch your feet and say, "Where are her socks?" I wanted to punch them because obviously I know you best and if you were really that bothered by not having socks, you would have been crying. People would comment about how big you were or small you were. In the same week while you were 10 months old I had people say you "are bigger than my two year old granddaughter" and you "are smaller than my 6 month old daughter." Who cares?! I knew you. What I wanted to say was, "maybe your granddaughter is a runt" but I didn't. You will learn soon that sometimes it's better to just think things in your head and smile. You were healthy, eating fine, sleeping great, and thriving. (You walked at 9.5 months so I think you are just fine).
I've learned that you will complete milestones all in your own time and that it's important for me to not compare you to another baby your age. I have heard far too many moms compare you to their children as far as how early you have walked and how many teeth you have and being on the other end of it, I feel sorry for their babies who are doing everything perfectly and in their own time. I try to be encouraging and say, "They'll walk when they are ready." I don't want to get in a habit of comparing you to other girls and I just want to be proud of you. You amaze me every day. You buzz around the living room like a Roomba and you often fall because you are either trying to carry something too heavy or you are not watching where you are going. Every time, you get right back up, and keep on moving. You're kind of inspirational that way, kid.
I've learned that it's okay to take you out to run errands in your pajamas or not bathe you 80 times a week. The pressure to look perfect as a mother is overwhelming at times, but I soon realized that if we are having a rough day and need to run to the store, you and I don't need to look fancy all the time. There will come a day when I have a little more time on my hands, I feel more like myself in my body, and I will do my hair, makeup, and wear something other than workout clothes. All three in one day, but for now, I'm trying to just soak up the way you constantly want to be with me (with my hair in a bun, my makeup free face, stinky breath, and workout clothes on). I'm trying to soak up the way you babble because before I know it you will be saying real words and I will miss the "dada's" and "nana's."
This has been quite a year. It's so crazy what you go through in one year and how you do it all with a smile on your face 80% of the time. You cut teeth, you grow (a lot), you learn how to roll over, to sit up on your own, to pull up on your own, to stand on your own, to walk on your own, and you do it all in that tiny little body. It's amazing to me that you don't just cry all the time out of frustration because if I had to learn all of that at my age now I would definitely complain about it a lot.
There's certain things that just in a year I've learned about you and your personality. I can tell you are going to be sweet. You light up when people you love come into the room or FaceTime you. You are going to love animals (maybe not horses). You love your puppy and have never been afraid of him but have just always wanted to be his friend. You are going to be generous and kind. You offer to share your food with us, your water with Tummy, and your toys with snotty nosed kids at the library who minutes before stole your toy. You are going to be stubborn. I've seen this in the way you respond to being told no and how you decided you were going to stand and walk and went full force in accomplishing that. You are a determined little girl and you are a sweetheart. You are going to love music. You love any book with music sounds, you love when you hear music on the TV, and you love when mommy sings.
It's no secret that you are beautiful on the outside but I love when I get to see your inner beauty shine through. You are sweet, funny, a ham, silly, energetic, talkative, loving, and intelligent. I love you very much, Lillie James. You are a light everywhere you go.
Xoxo,
Mommy
You are turning one in two weeks. How is this even possible? No, really, how? It seems like yesterday I was posting pictures of pregnant orangutans and saying, "Where's Lillie James?" because according to science, you were supposed to be making your way out at any moment. It seems like yesterday your daddy was exhausted and overwhelmed in the hospital saying, "I can do the diapers but I can't do this crying." (Don't worry, I sent him into the hall to take a break and breathe. He came back so quickly, said he had prayed, and had a change of heart.) We would soon come to find out that the roles would reverse and he would be saying to me, "Why do you leave for a little while and take a break. We're fine. She's fine." or "Are you sure you are going to be okay? I can stay home." It only took a couple months to realize the gravity of his willingness to stay home (you see, he's kind of a hustler when it comes to his job). I googled Postpartum Depression and began to highlight all of the things on the list that pertained to me and for the first time felt somewhat understood.
Mommy was a mess - literally and figuratively. (Side note: You WILL know how to use "literally" properly even if it's the only thing I teach you). I rarely showered. There were days when it would be 3:00 p.m. and I would wonder if I had brushed my teeth and usually, I hadn't. I wore the same three night gowns almost daily, unless we went out and then I would wear workout pants and one of two t-shirts. I'm still currently wearing mostly the workout pants and t-shirts but, that's a work in progress. I cried, a lot. I laid in bed at night thinking about how wonderful it would be if I could just jump in the car and drive far, far away. Your dad thought I was certifiably crazy. And, we took LOTS of drives. Like, instead of toys, blankets, and diapers at your baby shower; they should have given me gas cards because the car was my safe haven.
We listened to the same Sandi Patty Lullaby CD which was like a sleeping potion for you. No joke, I've probably listened to that CD at least 1,000 times. I would put you in the car, turn on the CD, grab a Dr. Pepper at Sonic (Mommy pretty much ran on Dr. Pepper - so much so that Sonic and Dr. Pepper should have sponsored our drives), and we would drive all over Rio Rancho/Albuquerque. I would listen to podcasts in my headphones and use up all the data of our monthly shared data plan. Your Uncle Cory would text me and be like, "Girl! Quit using all the data." I think he would forgive me now that he knows what I was dealing with. (I also took the necessary steps to not do that once I figured out how). Our drives are what got me through the day - I felt the most in control when we were on our drives.
I didn't venture out too much because I was always afraid of doing everything wrong and being judged by other moms. I wasn't sure where exactly to put you when we went shopping. I would see moms with the carseat up on the top of the cart and it would make me a nervous wreck so I didn't want to do that. I saw some moms with the car seat in the cart but I thought, "Where the heck do you put all of your groceries?" So, if we went shopping at all, I kept you in your stroller and stuffed all the groceries in the bottom of it and still felt judged for doing that. I would struggle to put shoes on you because people bothered me about your feet all the time. It was just easier to either stay home with you or go for a drive.
I started going to therapy for my postpartum depression when you were about 4 months old. This is also when I quit breastfeeding, which I think fed into my depression more because I was struggling to get you to eat, I wasn't sleeping because you needed food at night, and no one could help me fully because you relied on me for food. I began to feel trapped by breastfeeding and after a lot of crying and mulling over the decision I switched to formula. I cried a lot in my first therapy session because it was the first time I had really ever said some of the things I had been thinking out loud and it was the first time I felt like someone really understood what I was going through. My therapist made me feel sane for the first time in a long time.
Fast-forward to you being almost 7 months old and me being at about a 3 depression wise, I decided to sleep train you and it was the worst to hear you cry for probably 35 minutes the first day (someone is reading this going, "YOU LET HER CRY IT OUT?!?!?!" and we will get to that later). Then the second day it was less, then the third day less again, then the fourth, the fifth, etc. and eventually, I was able to lay you down in your crib at approximately the same time every day and you went right to sleep. This was a huge turning point in our relationship because I again felt like I was getting some control and consistency back in my life to know, "Okay, I at least have one hour to do whatever I need or want." Usually, what I needed and wanted was to eat a meal, sit and watch terrible reality TV, or clean the house. It seems crazy that it was 5 months ago and now you are almost a year old. I've learned so much through the last year about myself and about motherhood.
The biggest thing I've learned about myself is that I am a lot more selfish than I ever thought or realized. I need sleep to be a lovely person and by sleep, I mean a solid 9 hours. 10 is best, but 9 will do, anything less is just rubbish. I realized this about myself when you would wake up to eat at 11, eat until about 11:45, go back to sleep at 12, wake up again 2 hours later, and I would stomp to your room while your dad said, "Are you okay?" For the record, my response was always either to ignore him or sternly say, "NO." See, not so lovely on less than 9 hours of sleep. Once we started giving you formula, daddy could help and was my savior. I hired him as the night nurse although really he volunteered. You love him now because he is loud, does cool tricks, and makes you laugh but soon you will realize that he is a gem because of his heart, selflessness, and go-with-the-flow attitude. We can only hope you are as laid back as him and your Papi.
I always knew that I needed alone time to reenergize but I never quite knew just how much until I had you. There had always been a time in my day where I had alone time either because I chose it or your dad was at work later than me. Then, you came along, and suddenly I had someone who constantly needed me. And while that's flattering and empowering, it also made me feel very drained. I have never had someone who always needed me. Your dad needed me occasionally when I would get a text when he was in school saying, "Sugar, I forgot my lunch. Any way you could bring me some lunch?" or when he would say, "Can you go with me to the bank to get a money order. I've never gotten one and you are just better at that kind of stuff." (I make him call the TV company). It was important for my mental health that I have just a minute to myself every day where someone else was watching you and I could truly be off the clock and your daddy provided me with that by coming home every day after he worked and offering to let me leave the house for a little while.
I've learned that it's important for me to do what I think is best for you and for me, even if other people disagree. I told you I would get back to letting you cry it out. There was a time that in order to get you to take a nap we had to swaddle you, cover your face with a blankie (you loved this), and bounce you like you were on the bumpiest dirt road. Then there came a time where you didn't want to be bounced but rather you wanted us to walk really fast back and forth. Then there came a time when the walking didn't work and the bouncing didn't work and I found myself leaping around in circles with you in my arms. This is where the sleep training came in.
You were just a little over six months and I decided for your well being and my well being, you needed to learn how to nap and you needed to be able to put yourself to sleep without the crazy antics. (Not to mention you could no longer be swaddled). Mommy asked some friends (angels really) and did some reading about the extinction method and we went to work. Some people probably would not do sleep training the way I did, but for us, it was what needed to happen. Now, I put you down for your naps and 9/10 you go to sleep right away. Occasionally you cry, but that's usually when you don't feel well. This was so beneficial for me because when we started this you took three naps a day and according to the method, you had to be in your crib for one hour whether you were crying, playing, talking, sitting, sleeping, etc., which meant I knew I had three hours (at least) during the day to have some me time. I told your daddy the other day that my greatest achievement over the last year is that I was able to sleep train you.
I've learned that I know you best and I need to let others comments roll off my shoulders. I used to take you out and not put socks on you because they always fell off anyway and your hands and feet were always warm and sweaty naturally. You get that from your dad. People would touch your feet and say, "Where are her socks?" I wanted to punch them because obviously I know you best and if you were really that bothered by not having socks, you would have been crying. People would comment about how big you were or small you were. In the same week while you were 10 months old I had people say you "are bigger than my two year old granddaughter" and you "are smaller than my 6 month old daughter." Who cares?! I knew you. What I wanted to say was, "maybe your granddaughter is a runt" but I didn't. You will learn soon that sometimes it's better to just think things in your head and smile. You were healthy, eating fine, sleeping great, and thriving. (You walked at 9.5 months so I think you are just fine).
I've learned that you will complete milestones all in your own time and that it's important for me to not compare you to another baby your age. I have heard far too many moms compare you to their children as far as how early you have walked and how many teeth you have and being on the other end of it, I feel sorry for their babies who are doing everything perfectly and in their own time. I try to be encouraging and say, "They'll walk when they are ready." I don't want to get in a habit of comparing you to other girls and I just want to be proud of you. You amaze me every day. You buzz around the living room like a Roomba and you often fall because you are either trying to carry something too heavy or you are not watching where you are going. Every time, you get right back up, and keep on moving. You're kind of inspirational that way, kid.
I've learned that it's okay to take you out to run errands in your pajamas or not bathe you 80 times a week. The pressure to look perfect as a mother is overwhelming at times, but I soon realized that if we are having a rough day and need to run to the store, you and I don't need to look fancy all the time. There will come a day when I have a little more time on my hands, I feel more like myself in my body, and I will do my hair, makeup, and wear something other than workout clothes. All three in one day, but for now, I'm trying to just soak up the way you constantly want to be with me (with my hair in a bun, my makeup free face, stinky breath, and workout clothes on). I'm trying to soak up the way you babble because before I know it you will be saying real words and I will miss the "dada's" and "nana's."
This has been quite a year. It's so crazy what you go through in one year and how you do it all with a smile on your face 80% of the time. You cut teeth, you grow (a lot), you learn how to roll over, to sit up on your own, to pull up on your own, to stand on your own, to walk on your own, and you do it all in that tiny little body. It's amazing to me that you don't just cry all the time out of frustration because if I had to learn all of that at my age now I would definitely complain about it a lot.
There's certain things that just in a year I've learned about you and your personality. I can tell you are going to be sweet. You light up when people you love come into the room or FaceTime you. You are going to love animals (maybe not horses). You love your puppy and have never been afraid of him but have just always wanted to be his friend. You are going to be generous and kind. You offer to share your food with us, your water with Tummy, and your toys with snotty nosed kids at the library who minutes before stole your toy. You are going to be stubborn. I've seen this in the way you respond to being told no and how you decided you were going to stand and walk and went full force in accomplishing that. You are a determined little girl and you are a sweetheart. You are going to love music. You love any book with music sounds, you love when you hear music on the TV, and you love when mommy sings.
It's no secret that you are beautiful on the outside but I love when I get to see your inner beauty shine through. You are sweet, funny, a ham, silly, energetic, talkative, loving, and intelligent. I love you very much, Lillie James. You are a light everywhere you go.
Xoxo,
Mommy
Wednesday, September 21, 2016
#6
Lillie James,
As stated in my previous blog, I am writing about my experience with Postpartum Depression/Anxiety so that one day if you are experiencing it too, we can look here together and I can be a comrade in your battle.
I have had a rough few days as far as PPD/A is concerned. For some reason, beginning on Sunday, things kind of hit me hard and old feelings were stirred up. I have been thinking the past few days about what my "triggers" are for feeling less than my best and just how skewed my reality can be from your average chill mommy's reality. I thought it might be helpful to write these down as a way to help you, others, and myself recognize that I have these triggers and that my reality is warped.
I believe these "triggers" and my warped sense of reality go very hand in hand. So here are the triggers and the thoughts/feelings I have. I am going to focus on my four main ones.
1. The house being a mess - this begins to make me feel very overwhelmed and anxious and I begin to feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. If I let it become worse than just a small mess, then I get to a state where it seems impossible to remedy. I begin thinking, "I'll never get it clean. I can't keep up with the simplest things. There are moms out there sewing their children rompers and I can't wash a bottle after a feeding." This is when my motivation plummets and I just want to lay in my room watching New Girl and wonder if I will ever feel good again. I don't like this place, it's a scary place, and I cannot allow myself to go there so I am learning ways to manage this trigger, i.e. making my bed EVERY day, whether it is 6:15 a.m. or 6:15 p.m. Getting into a made bed gives me a sense of accomplishment. Or, making sure the kitchen is clean every night before bed, which is easier if I just wash everything right after it's used, EVEN if your daddy is trying to help and says, "I'll get that later." Because, if your daddy doesn't get that later (later being before I wake up) then I wake up, see the mess, become overwhelmed and my day is started off on the wrong foot. I've explained this to daddy that I know he means well, but I've got to do things my way for my state-of-mind, because what seems like no big deal to him, can be the catalyst of a meltdown for me.
2. People offering unsolicited suggestions as to how to parent you - this is a tough one to deal with because the normal person reality is "Oh, they are trying to help. Ya, great idea." But, the PPD/A warped sense of reality says, "They don't think I even know how to take care of my baby. Maybe I don't. Maybe she deserves better. Maybe I should just go back to work and put her in a daycare of some sort where they know what they are doing." This could be as simple as saying, "Her feet are cold." Lillie, I get told this ALL the time about you. It can be in a cold room or in a hot room, but your feet run cold. My mama gut instincts are usually correct and you are usually not cold, you just have cold feet like your daddy. When I REALLY think you are cold, I put socks on you and you kick them off. And I put them back on and you kick them off. It's New Mexico and since you were born it's been under 65 only a handful of times and I read somewhere before you were born that the optimal temperature for a sleeping baby is 65-70. This is what I keep in mind most of the time people tell me things like that because I know they mean well and are just wanting the best for you, but I am with you the most, I know you the most, and if there were anyone who knows what is best it would be me. However, truly only God knows what's best for you and I have to just trust that He is instilling wisdom in me each day to know how best to take care of you.
3. You waking up from a nap early - early on I got you in the habit of taking a pretty good nap in the afternoon. On average you sleep 3.5 hours and usually it's within the window of 1:30-6:00. Sometimes you go to sleep at 1:30 and wake up at 5:00. Sometimes you go to sleep at 2:00 and wake up at 6:00. You just on average give me 3.5 hours where I can get things done and know you are not going to need to be changed, fed, entertained, calmed down, cleaned off, etc. When you wake up early, normal sense of reality would be to think, "Oh well, somethings off today," or "She probably just spit out her pacifier; I will go put it back in." My warped sense of reality tells me, "Panic! She is awake.! You aren't finished paying the bills - when will you finish?!?! There is too much to get done! I'm never going to not feel trapped as a mother. Why can't I just have 3.5 hours to myself?!" The progress I have made since coming to terms with this PPD/A, going to a therapist, and being very intentional about how I think and structure my day is that I recognize that these thoughts are irrational. I take a breath, and I immediately tell myself, "It's going to be okay. She may not take a big nap today; but we will get through it. We will have help in ______ hours so we've just got to make it through that time and then I will have help and can get done what I had started earlier. That's quite a big step from where I was. It used to be that I would have a meltdown, cry, beg you desperately to give me more sleep, text your dad that I'm losing my mind, plead with God to let you go back to sleep, and then let it ruin my entire day. Baby steps, Lillie, baby steps. But, I mean, you get that. You ARE a baby. :)
4. Being told, "No, you don't need to do _________. You can't even keep up with all you have going on right now." Reality: Don't add any more unnecessary stress to your life. Just take care of yourself and Lillie right now. Warped Reality: You are such a crappy mom that you can't even keep the house clean, the laundry done, the bills paid, the meals made; why would you try to do some side jobs or make your own baby food? This is a tough one too because again, people mean well. But sometimes, Lillie, people don't think about what it is like to be in your shoes and how a comment they make might make you feel. That's what is so tricky about mental illness. It's almost like this secret club that you don't want to be in, but somehow you have been elected president, and if you aren't a member you don't quite fully understand the people who are members. Your daddy belongs to a sports message board and sometimes I will ask him a question about it and he will use a word that was made up on said message board and try to explain to me how it works. He will say, "You just don't get it. There is a certain etiquette you have to follow on here and if you don't, they will make your life a living hell. There are hackers that will find out all of your personal information and go after you." Mental illness is kind of like that. There is certain etiquette to follow, but unless you have experience it, you really don't know all of the rules; i.e. calling someone who struggles with mental illness "crazy" or saying "just don't stress about it" to a person with anxiety." Our natural reactions would be to say, "I'll show you crazy" and "I'd absolutely love to not stress about it" while metaphorically finding out everything about you and ruining your life. ;)
All this being said, even though I am having a rough week per se, my rough week is about a 6 whereas 2 months ago this same kind of week would have been a 9. So, progress. I mentioned that I am very intentional now about my thoughts and how I structure my time. I am also more forgiving of myself. If I have a little freakout moment because it's the 80th time you've fussed at me during the day and your dad is somehow super chill, I step back and think, "This is only his 10th fuss of the day. My fuse was shorter; sometimes people reach a breaking point. 80 is apparently mine." I forgive myself, let dad step in, and I do something else that calms me down. I am very intentional about beginning to pray right when I am feeling overwhelmed and that I am beginning to spin out of control. I ask for patience and remind myself of how you are a blessing and something I have wanted for as long as I can remember. I take a step back and let gratitude and thanksgiving flood my thoughts to drown out the doubt, fear, anxiety, and worry that was there.
It's a tough job being a mommy, Lillie. And one that kind of goes unnoticed. There is no employee of the month parking, no bonuses, no recognition of achievement, no promotions, no free trips, no raises, and that's okay. There are kisses and hugs (one day). There are huge smiles when you see me. There are arms and legs going crazy from excitement that you cannot contain when I come to get you from your crib. There are laughs when I am singing you a silly song. There is your look of pure innocence and wonder when you discover something new. There is peace when you are sleeping in my arms. There is a calm when you go to sleep at night. There is joy watching you play. There is a sense of pride when you make even the grouchiest looking strangers smile.
You are the best little person I know. You are my favorite baby. You are an easier baby than I give you credit for. You are the cutest little thing. You are the greatest gift your dad and I have ever received. You are important. You are special. You are precious. And most of all, you are loved beyond measure.
Xoxo,
Mommy
As stated in my previous blog, I am writing about my experience with Postpartum Depression/Anxiety so that one day if you are experiencing it too, we can look here together and I can be a comrade in your battle.
I have had a rough few days as far as PPD/A is concerned. For some reason, beginning on Sunday, things kind of hit me hard and old feelings were stirred up. I have been thinking the past few days about what my "triggers" are for feeling less than my best and just how skewed my reality can be from your average chill mommy's reality. I thought it might be helpful to write these down as a way to help you, others, and myself recognize that I have these triggers and that my reality is warped.
I believe these "triggers" and my warped sense of reality go very hand in hand. So here are the triggers and the thoughts/feelings I have. I am going to focus on my four main ones.
1. The house being a mess - this begins to make me feel very overwhelmed and anxious and I begin to feel like an elephant is sitting on my chest. If I let it become worse than just a small mess, then I get to a state where it seems impossible to remedy. I begin thinking, "I'll never get it clean. I can't keep up with the simplest things. There are moms out there sewing their children rompers and I can't wash a bottle after a feeding." This is when my motivation plummets and I just want to lay in my room watching New Girl and wonder if I will ever feel good again. I don't like this place, it's a scary place, and I cannot allow myself to go there so I am learning ways to manage this trigger, i.e. making my bed EVERY day, whether it is 6:15 a.m. or 6:15 p.m. Getting into a made bed gives me a sense of accomplishment. Or, making sure the kitchen is clean every night before bed, which is easier if I just wash everything right after it's used, EVEN if your daddy is trying to help and says, "I'll get that later." Because, if your daddy doesn't get that later (later being before I wake up) then I wake up, see the mess, become overwhelmed and my day is started off on the wrong foot. I've explained this to daddy that I know he means well, but I've got to do things my way for my state-of-mind, because what seems like no big deal to him, can be the catalyst of a meltdown for me.
2. People offering unsolicited suggestions as to how to parent you - this is a tough one to deal with because the normal person reality is "Oh, they are trying to help. Ya, great idea." But, the PPD/A warped sense of reality says, "They don't think I even know how to take care of my baby. Maybe I don't. Maybe she deserves better. Maybe I should just go back to work and put her in a daycare of some sort where they know what they are doing." This could be as simple as saying, "Her feet are cold." Lillie, I get told this ALL the time about you. It can be in a cold room or in a hot room, but your feet run cold. My mama gut instincts are usually correct and you are usually not cold, you just have cold feet like your daddy. When I REALLY think you are cold, I put socks on you and you kick them off. And I put them back on and you kick them off. It's New Mexico and since you were born it's been under 65 only a handful of times and I read somewhere before you were born that the optimal temperature for a sleeping baby is 65-70. This is what I keep in mind most of the time people tell me things like that because I know they mean well and are just wanting the best for you, but I am with you the most, I know you the most, and if there were anyone who knows what is best it would be me. However, truly only God knows what's best for you and I have to just trust that He is instilling wisdom in me each day to know how best to take care of you.
3. You waking up from a nap early - early on I got you in the habit of taking a pretty good nap in the afternoon. On average you sleep 3.5 hours and usually it's within the window of 1:30-6:00. Sometimes you go to sleep at 1:30 and wake up at 5:00. Sometimes you go to sleep at 2:00 and wake up at 6:00. You just on average give me 3.5 hours where I can get things done and know you are not going to need to be changed, fed, entertained, calmed down, cleaned off, etc. When you wake up early, normal sense of reality would be to think, "Oh well, somethings off today," or "She probably just spit out her pacifier; I will go put it back in." My warped sense of reality tells me, "Panic! She is awake.! You aren't finished paying the bills - when will you finish?!?! There is too much to get done! I'm never going to not feel trapped as a mother. Why can't I just have 3.5 hours to myself?!" The progress I have made since coming to terms with this PPD/A, going to a therapist, and being very intentional about how I think and structure my day is that I recognize that these thoughts are irrational. I take a breath, and I immediately tell myself, "It's going to be okay. She may not take a big nap today; but we will get through it. We will have help in ______ hours so we've just got to make it through that time and then I will have help and can get done what I had started earlier. That's quite a big step from where I was. It used to be that I would have a meltdown, cry, beg you desperately to give me more sleep, text your dad that I'm losing my mind, plead with God to let you go back to sleep, and then let it ruin my entire day. Baby steps, Lillie, baby steps. But, I mean, you get that. You ARE a baby. :)
4. Being told, "No, you don't need to do _________. You can't even keep up with all you have going on right now." Reality: Don't add any more unnecessary stress to your life. Just take care of yourself and Lillie right now. Warped Reality: You are such a crappy mom that you can't even keep the house clean, the laundry done, the bills paid, the meals made; why would you try to do some side jobs or make your own baby food? This is a tough one too because again, people mean well. But sometimes, Lillie, people don't think about what it is like to be in your shoes and how a comment they make might make you feel. That's what is so tricky about mental illness. It's almost like this secret club that you don't want to be in, but somehow you have been elected president, and if you aren't a member you don't quite fully understand the people who are members. Your daddy belongs to a sports message board and sometimes I will ask him a question about it and he will use a word that was made up on said message board and try to explain to me how it works. He will say, "You just don't get it. There is a certain etiquette you have to follow on here and if you don't, they will make your life a living hell. There are hackers that will find out all of your personal information and go after you." Mental illness is kind of like that. There is certain etiquette to follow, but unless you have experience it, you really don't know all of the rules; i.e. calling someone who struggles with mental illness "crazy" or saying "just don't stress about it" to a person with anxiety." Our natural reactions would be to say, "I'll show you crazy" and "I'd absolutely love to not stress about it" while metaphorically finding out everything about you and ruining your life. ;)
All this being said, even though I am having a rough week per se, my rough week is about a 6 whereas 2 months ago this same kind of week would have been a 9. So, progress. I mentioned that I am very intentional now about my thoughts and how I structure my time. I am also more forgiving of myself. If I have a little freakout moment because it's the 80th time you've fussed at me during the day and your dad is somehow super chill, I step back and think, "This is only his 10th fuss of the day. My fuse was shorter; sometimes people reach a breaking point. 80 is apparently mine." I forgive myself, let dad step in, and I do something else that calms me down. I am very intentional about beginning to pray right when I am feeling overwhelmed and that I am beginning to spin out of control. I ask for patience and remind myself of how you are a blessing and something I have wanted for as long as I can remember. I take a step back and let gratitude and thanksgiving flood my thoughts to drown out the doubt, fear, anxiety, and worry that was there.
It's a tough job being a mommy, Lillie. And one that kind of goes unnoticed. There is no employee of the month parking, no bonuses, no recognition of achievement, no promotions, no free trips, no raises, and that's okay. There are kisses and hugs (one day). There are huge smiles when you see me. There are arms and legs going crazy from excitement that you cannot contain when I come to get you from your crib. There are laughs when I am singing you a silly song. There is your look of pure innocence and wonder when you discover something new. There is peace when you are sleeping in my arms. There is a calm when you go to sleep at night. There is joy watching you play. There is a sense of pride when you make even the grouchiest looking strangers smile.
You are the best little person I know. You are my favorite baby. You are an easier baby than I give you credit for. You are the cutest little thing. You are the greatest gift your dad and I have ever received. You are important. You are special. You are precious. And most of all, you are loved beyond measure.
Xoxo,
Mommy
Friday, August 26, 2016
#5
This is very hard for me to do, Lillie James, but one day your dad asked me, "Are you journaling anywhere about your postpartum depression? You should. What if one day Lillie is going through it? It might be nice for her to know what you went through."
So, it's taken me a couple weeks since he said that for me to make the decision to not only write it for you, which I have done in a different journal, but for Jane Doe in Harrisburg, PA who feels alone in all of it. I can't really say exactly when it started, but I can say that I know when I came to terms with it on my own and that was around three months postpartum. I admitted it first to myself because I needed to accept it myself before I could tell your daddy. In an effort to really make sure it was postpartum depression I took to the Internet like any normal millennial and googled "postpartum depression symptoms." What came up was a list of symptoms and a paragraph prefaced the list saying, "You may not be experiencing all of the symptoms listed below or even most of them. Postpartum depression and anxiety are not 'one-size-fits-all' illnesses. Your experience may include just a few of the symptoms and you may not have others at all."
As I read through the list of symptoms I found that to be very true. Some of the symtoms were not related to what I was feeling while others felt like someone had found a way to tap into my thoughts. The first one on the list stuck out to me the most and it said,
- You feel overwhelmed. Not like “hey, this new mom thing is hard.” More like “I can’t do this and I’m never going to be able to do this.” You feel like you just can’t handle being a mother. In fact, you may be wondering whether you should have become a mother in the first place.
I remember reading this and thinking, "Yes. How are they reading my mind? This is probably the toughest part of my depression/anxiety for me to grapple with because being a mom is something I've dreamed of forever. It is what I have always felt I was meant to do; what I would be the best at. I don't have many things in my life that I am great at. I am mediocre at best at a lot of things; a jack of all trades, master of none. But, being a mom, I was just certain it was going to be my calling. So when this depression/anxiety began to settle in I began to wonder, "Can I do this? Should I have waited? She deserves someone better. Why does putting her to sleep overwhelm me so much? Why do I hate getting up in the middle of the night? When will I sleep? When will it get better and when will I feel on top of it all?" These thoughts as a new mom, more specifically a mom who was so certain she wanted to be a mom, are terrifying to have.
The next symptom that stood out was,
- You feel guilty because you believe you should be handling motherhood better than this. You feel like your baby deserves better. You worry whether your baby can tell that you feel so bad, or that you are crying so much, or that you don’t feel the happiness or connection that you thought you would. You may wonder whether your baby would be better off without you.
I can remember telling your daddy, "She deserves better. She's going to see me crying all the time and know that I'm sad. That's not fair to her." I can also remember telling him, "I want to run away." I've said this even in the last 10 days. I woke up to feed you at 3:30 in the morning, came back to bed, and anxiety began to set in and all I could think was, "I've got to get in the car and drive away. I've got to leave. I can't do this." Thoughts of running away and leaving my family was also on this list of symptoms. This is a scary thing to feel when you love your family more than anything. I would do anything for you and Daddy. You are both the most important things in my life.
The last thing that really stood out to me was,
The last thing that really stood out to me was,
- You are afraid that this is your new reality and that you've lost the "old you" forever.
I can remember being out to lunch with you, Uncle Zak, Daddy, and Nonna. We were eating our meal when a group of three young girls came into the restaurant, sat down in the booth, and began to just gab like young girls do. I remember thinking, "I wish that were me." It's an awful feeling to think these things and again it's so confusing because I love you more than anything. Sometimes I look at you and just think, "Why is she just the best thing ever?!" So, feeling so selfish and longing for another reality is frustrating, scary, and confusing. One of the things I am working through with my therapist (you can find me on Real Housewives of Rio Rancho) is making time for myself and finding ways to be more than just a mom whether that is taking 30 minutes to do my hair and hanging out with girls that either aren't moms or girls that are moms but can talk about things other than that.
One thing that does not help with my depression and anxiety is that we live in a social media world where without even knowing it, we feel pressured to fit into this box and love every single minute of being a mom. We see posts from other moms that talk about how great motherhood is, how it's the best thing ever, how their babies are the best, how they sleep through the night, how they are rolling over, how life didn't make sense until motherhood. But, this, this is not the whole truth. You see, people usually don't post about the hard days, the hard times, the getting pooped on, the crying baby that won't sleep, the baby that is going through a growth spurt and won't quit nursing, the anxiety you feel when you first take the baby out on the town, the pressure to reach every milestone on time. People post the highlights: The baby who is now sleeping through the night (after months of no sleep), the baby that is rolling over (after fearing it would never happen), the baby that is smiling (only minutes after throwing a major fit), the bath time cuteness (that should have happened days ago but didn't because mom was just out of motivation).
There are even people, Lillie James, who will see those successes and out of jealousy or feelings of inferiority will not support the mom who proudly posted the baby's accomplishments. It sounds so silly to say, the older I get the more I realize just how silly our gender is, but there are moms who you support and encourage by liking all their posts about motherhood/their babies who will for whatever reason never like anything you post about yours. I know, so trivial and so petty, but this is the world we live in and noticing that this is going on hurts your feelings because you wonder why everyone can't just be supportive, kind, and loving towards each other.
I am so aware of the unrealistic expectations that moms have to be perfect 24/7 and make everyone think that they have it all together, but I am kind of tired of it. It would be super easy to just delete my social media accounts but the truth is, I like seeing what my friends are up to and what exciting or not so exciting things are going on in their lives. You know what would be refreshing to see? A picture of someone else's baby throwing a major fit. A post from a mom who is honest about her struggles instead of trying to create this picture perfect notion of motherhood.
The thing is, motherhood is exhausting. There are nights when I think, "If she doesn't sleep until 4, I will die. I'm pretty sure I will never sleep again." There are days when I think, "I really don't want to pace up and down my living room to get her to go down for her nap. I just want to lay her down, grab a Diet Coke, and watch terrible TV to unwind." There are days when you are napping and I think, "Please don't wake up for 3 hours. If you do, I may lose it because I need to do laundry, cook, clean, call some company that charged us too much money." There are also nights when you wake up at 2 in the morning, I stomp off to your bedroom while ignoring your daddy's question of, "Are you okay," and I see your smiling face and forget just how mad I was that you woke me up. There are also days when I think, "I can't wait to laugh with her about how silly she was and the things her daddy and I did to get her to sleep." And there are also days when you are napping and I think, "I can't wait to go get her from her nap and see her happy face."
The most important thing to take from all of this is that I love you more than you could ever imagine, I want the best for you, and you make me so very happy. Yes, I'm struggling with postpartum depression, but I am taking necessary steps to come out on top. Yes, there are days when it's just the two of us and I am counting down the minutes until your daddy gets home. Yes, there are days when I want to run away, but I don't. In an effort to keep daddy in the loop and also not let things fester in my mind, I tell him when I am feeling like running away and how much that makes me feel like a terrible mother and he always says, "It's okay to feel like that. The important thing is that you don't run away and that makes you a wonderful mother." You'll soon learn that I think your daddy hung the moon and you will understand why. One thing you and I will always be is honest with each other, even when what we need to be honest about is scary.
I love you, Lillie James. I am working on being the best mommy I can for you, so just hang in there with me.
Xoxo,
Mommy
Thursday, July 7, 2016
#4
It's been 11 weeks since Lillie was born. I said in
my last blog that I wanted to share my birth story in a later blog.
While I was pregnant with Lillie I read a book called Ina May's Guide to Childbirth. The
beginning of the book is a compilation of different birth stories. I
read a few and kind of got the point, which I thought to be "no birthing
experience is the same."
After reading the aforementioned book, I began reading another book with Kyle that was recommended to him by a few patients. It was a book on The Bradley Method for child labor. We read the book, we practiced the exercises, and in my mind I had this idea of how my labor and delivery would go; despite everyone saying, "Have a plan, but just understand that it may go nothing like you plan,"
Deep down though, I really thought it was going to go like I planned. I had this idea that I would go into labor at my house, preferably at night. I would sleep through the first part of it just waiting on either my water to break or my contractions to get to a certain point. I would go to the hospital, dilate the rest of the way, and then push that baby out.
This. Did. Not. Happen. (Not in the slightest).
This is how it actually went down. I was 6 days past due and had an ultrasound scheduled to check the baby's practice breathing, fluid levels, heartbeat, umbilical cord heartbeat, muscle tone, and movement. I had decided early on that I didn't want to induce unless medically necessary or until 42 weeks and I did not want my cervix checked unless I had been having pretty strong contractions because it would not change anything. (This is one thing that I am glad I did).
Monday, the 18th of April, I went to the specialist to have the ultrasound done. I had already done the same thing at 40+2 weeks so I thought I was going to be told the same thing, "Baby is fine. You are fine. You are free to still wait." Again, I was wrong.
The ultrasound technician was doing all of the measurements and taking all her pictures and about 5 minutes in said, "How do you feel about being induced?" This translates to, "You are going to be induced." I told her, "I don't want to be but obviously I will if I need to." At this point she explained that my amniotic fluid levels were on the very low end so because of that, if most likely be induced. Fast forward through a lot of back and forth from the NP on duty and the on call doctoe she had to confirm with and I was calling Kyle and our families informing them that we would be having the baby that day.
Kyle met me at the doctors just as I was leaving and we headed home to gather up the hospital bag which was all packed except for the last minute items. I was scrambling around, Kyle was filming the process, and we took one final picture as just a family of three before we headed out. This was the beginning of it not being anything like I had planned. I was not having any contractions. I hadn't had any contractions. My water had not broken and yet here I was headed out to meet Lillie.
We got to the hospital, did the admission, and then a nurse began to explain my options as far as induction was concerned. We were moved from triage to L&D and after being check to find out I was only 1 cm dilated we decided to try a Cook's catheter, which is designed to accelerate cervical ripening before labor is induced. (See Picture) The catheter is inserted into the cervix until both balloons have entered the cervical canal. Then the uterine balloon is inflated with 40 mL of saline. After that is inflated, the catheter is pulled back until the uterine balloon is against the internal cervical os (which is the part of the cervix that opens up to the uterus). Then the vaginal balloon is inflated with 20 mL of saline. Once both balloons are on each side of the cervix then more fluid is added to each balloon until the contain 80 mL.
I had never had a catheter that I know of until this one and lets just say I hope that it's the last one I have for a while. The pressure of the balloon was so uncomfortable. You want to be laying down and resing during the "easy part" but the catheter makes it tricky to get comfortable and the rocks they have for hospital beds don't help much at all. This device can stay in a maximum of 12 hours and mine stayed in all 12 hours. I vomited three times while the catheter was in because well, it was the worst. They took out the catheter to see if I had dilated at all and I had gone to 4 cm and my water had broken.
It was time to start pitocin. I had read about pitocin and did not want to use it but are we noticing a theme yet? I've pretty much done everything that I didn't want to do. I didn't want to use the pitocin because I had read that it can make your contractions a lot more painful. But, we started it, and I rarely toot my own horn (only to my husband and brother) but I kind of rocked the whole Bradley Method of breathing. I did 19 hours of pitocin and with every contraction I just zoned out. If someone was talking to me, I quit listening and just closed my eyes and breathed. If I was talking, I stopped mid-sentence. After 12 hours, they checked me again and I had not dilated anymore. Bring on catheter number 2! This one monitors the contractions closer to make sure they are at a level that would cause me to dilate. They were all within the range to be progressive, but I was still at a stand still.
Shortly after I decided again to do something not in the plan: an epidural. I cried with Kyle and my doctor because I had worked and worked so hard for about 30 hours and I didn't want to feel like I was throwing in the towel. It was a feeling of failure and I didn't want that. I was at a point where I was so exhausted and thought that maybe if I could relax a little bit, then I would be able to dilate more, and not have a C-Section. I was also told if it came to a c-section, it would be much easier to already have the epidural in. At about 8 p.m. there was a shift change and my OB that I had done all my pre-natal visits with came in as the on call doctor. She said she wanted to check me again to see if I had dilated any more. She checked and I hadn't. She told me she had been monitoring what was going on all day from her office and she didn't think it was looking good. I was getting close to the 24 hour mark since my water broke and there is risk of infection after that so we discussed and I cried about having a c-section because part of me felt like I had worked and worked for nothing. Imagine hiking 3/4 of the way up a mountain, having to go back down because the rest of the trail was closed, and only not getting to see that magnificent view at the top. That's how I felt.
I was nervous for the C-Section because it's surgery and there are complications that come along with surgery. To add insult to injury, I was told they would come get me shortly and we would head to the operating room, but they came back in to tell me that we had to wait because the woman next door was ready to push and my doctor had to deliver her baby. Not to long after I heard the cheering and aside from the c-section itself, that was the worst feeling in the world.
They came to get me and Kyle was outside with our family praying. They went to get him and we made our way to the operating room. We got to a little waiting area near the room and they had Kyle stop there to put on his scrubs and told him they would come get him once I was ready. Note to medical professionals: people like me want their husbands with them the whole time and since this was not really an "emergency" type situation, we could have waited for him to put his stuff on and then all gone into the room together. They moved me from my hospital bed to the operating table and then strapped my arms down out to my sides in the position one would hang on a cross. They began to give me the anesthesia and then told me they would be testing the area they would be cutting open to see if I was completely numb. She started on my left side and I felt a sharp pain. I said, "Ow!" and my doctor said, "Where did you feel something?" I told her only on the left and was thinking, "These clowns better get me completely numb or they will have to find another way for this baby to come out because I am not about to sit her awake while someone slices me open."
They tilted the table to the left so I was hanging to one side. This was to ensure that area would be completely numb. Again, this would have been a nice time to have my husband in the room holding my hand. He was just waiting outside wondering what was going on. After testing again to make sure the area was numb, they brought Kyle in and he held my hand. They place a sheet of some kind above your waist so that you and your partner cannot see what's going on. They sliced me open, which I did not feel, thank God. Then they began to pull sweet Lillie out. This ladies and gentlemen is the weirdest, most uncomfortable feeling in the world because you can feel all of the pulling and tugging but it doesn't feel like you would imagine it would and it takes longer to get the baby out than you would think it does. It was the absolute worst thing in the world. They kept saying, "We are almost done, hang in there."
I heard Lillie cry and then let it out. I began sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. They asked Kyle, "Do you want to see her, Dad?" and I remember sensing his hesitation because while he wanted to see her he knew that she had the nurses there and I only had him. He didn't want to leave me because I was in a state of shock and shaking. He was asking, "Is this supposed to happen? Is she okay?" He went over to see Lillie, I think mainly to not seem like a bad dad for wanting to make sure I am okay. They brought her over to show me her and I cried and wondered whose nose she had. They asked if I wanted to do skin to skin on the table. Of course I did so they put her on my chest. About that time, while still not being able to quit shaking, I felt like I was going to vomit. They brought over a basin for me and I said, "I can't do this. I don't want to throw up with her on me."
This is the last thing I remember and then I woke up, Kyle was gone and they were getting ready to take me to my postpartum room. Kyle filled in the gap which was that they took him and Lillie and made him do skin to skin since I couldn't do it. I got back to the room and got to hold her and nurse her and the rest of the night was a blur.
I am writing my story out for Lillie to know but also to be honest because I think sometimes we think we are bad moms if we don't just say, "Well it wasn't how I planned it but the end result was great" or some other cliché response. I am guilty of saying this when really my feelings about my delivery is that it sucked. I hated the c-section. Every. Minute. Of. It. I did not get to see my baby right when she came into the world. That sucked. I didn't get to hold my baby right when she came into the world. That sucked. I was shaking so badly and wanted to vomit so I had to make them take her away. That sucked. I passed out and woke up not knowing where Kyle or Lillie were. That sucked. I did not get to deliver her in the way I had hoped and practiced for. And that sucked. Am I glad she is here and she is healthy? Yes. Am I glad nothing went wrong during the c-section? Yes. But I am allowed to be sad about not getting to deliver her the way I wanted.
I in some ways feel I was robbed of a rite of passage. To say, I had a c-section, makes me feel less than. It shouldn't, but it does. To know that if we have another child, I will most likely have to have another c-section makes me sad as well. I had heard of people who elect to have a c-section or who loved having c-sections and I think, "They must be off their rocker; but, to each their own." I just recently had a peace about my delivery and decided that it's okay that I didn't like it and think it was magical. It's okay that I am bummed I didn't get to even try to have her naturally. Will I dwell on it? No. But it's nice to know that I am allowed to have those feelings. And I will be honest when people ask my about it. I will not tell you some prepackaged answer about how it's okay because I got her in the end.
I loved every minute of getting her here until the surgery. I loved the pregnancy, I loved the excitement of packing for the hospital, I loved getting to put my practice of relaxing through the contractions to work, and I loved getting to spend all that time doing these things with Kyle.
Lillie, you are one of the greatest gifts in my life (you're dad choosing to be my best friend forever is the other one) and I cannot imagine my world without you. I hope one day you will be proud of me for the work I did to get you here the natural way and for the decision I made to go the surgical route when things weren't looking very promising. Just know that I tried my very best to get you here the natural way and I tried to be super tough during the procedure of having you the not so natural way. I hope you understand that me not liking my delivery has absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Would I do it all over again to get you here? You betcha! You are the best thing in the world and I am so glad you are here!
Xoxo,
Mommy
After reading the aforementioned book, I began reading another book with Kyle that was recommended to him by a few patients. It was a book on The Bradley Method for child labor. We read the book, we practiced the exercises, and in my mind I had this idea of how my labor and delivery would go; despite everyone saying, "Have a plan, but just understand that it may go nothing like you plan,"
Deep down though, I really thought it was going to go like I planned. I had this idea that I would go into labor at my house, preferably at night. I would sleep through the first part of it just waiting on either my water to break or my contractions to get to a certain point. I would go to the hospital, dilate the rest of the way, and then push that baby out.
This. Did. Not. Happen. (Not in the slightest).
This is how it actually went down. I was 6 days past due and had an ultrasound scheduled to check the baby's practice breathing, fluid levels, heartbeat, umbilical cord heartbeat, muscle tone, and movement. I had decided early on that I didn't want to induce unless medically necessary or until 42 weeks and I did not want my cervix checked unless I had been having pretty strong contractions because it would not change anything. (This is one thing that I am glad I did).
Monday, the 18th of April, I went to the specialist to have the ultrasound done. I had already done the same thing at 40+2 weeks so I thought I was going to be told the same thing, "Baby is fine. You are fine. You are free to still wait." Again, I was wrong.
The ultrasound technician was doing all of the measurements and taking all her pictures and about 5 minutes in said, "How do you feel about being induced?" This translates to, "You are going to be induced." I told her, "I don't want to be but obviously I will if I need to." At this point she explained that my amniotic fluid levels were on the very low end so because of that, if most likely be induced. Fast forward through a lot of back and forth from the NP on duty and the on call doctoe she had to confirm with and I was calling Kyle and our families informing them that we would be having the baby that day.
Kyle met me at the doctors just as I was leaving and we headed home to gather up the hospital bag which was all packed except for the last minute items. I was scrambling around, Kyle was filming the process, and we took one final picture as just a family of three before we headed out. This was the beginning of it not being anything like I had planned. I was not having any contractions. I hadn't had any contractions. My water had not broken and yet here I was headed out to meet Lillie.
We got to the hospital, did the admission, and then a nurse began to explain my options as far as induction was concerned. We were moved from triage to L&D and after being check to find out I was only 1 cm dilated we decided to try a Cook's catheter, which is designed to accelerate cervical ripening before labor is induced. (See Picture) The catheter is inserted into the cervix until both balloons have entered the cervical canal. Then the uterine balloon is inflated with 40 mL of saline. After that is inflated, the catheter is pulled back until the uterine balloon is against the internal cervical os (which is the part of the cervix that opens up to the uterus). Then the vaginal balloon is inflated with 20 mL of saline. Once both balloons are on each side of the cervix then more fluid is added to each balloon until the contain 80 mL.
I had never had a catheter that I know of until this one and lets just say I hope that it's the last one I have for a while. The pressure of the balloon was so uncomfortable. You want to be laying down and resing during the "easy part" but the catheter makes it tricky to get comfortable and the rocks they have for hospital beds don't help much at all. This device can stay in a maximum of 12 hours and mine stayed in all 12 hours. I vomited three times while the catheter was in because well, it was the worst. They took out the catheter to see if I had dilated at all and I had gone to 4 cm and my water had broken.
It was time to start pitocin. I had read about pitocin and did not want to use it but are we noticing a theme yet? I've pretty much done everything that I didn't want to do. I didn't want to use the pitocin because I had read that it can make your contractions a lot more painful. But, we started it, and I rarely toot my own horn (only to my husband and brother) but I kind of rocked the whole Bradley Method of breathing. I did 19 hours of pitocin and with every contraction I just zoned out. If someone was talking to me, I quit listening and just closed my eyes and breathed. If I was talking, I stopped mid-sentence. After 12 hours, they checked me again and I had not dilated anymore. Bring on catheter number 2! This one monitors the contractions closer to make sure they are at a level that would cause me to dilate. They were all within the range to be progressive, but I was still at a stand still.
Shortly after I decided again to do something not in the plan: an epidural. I cried with Kyle and my doctor because I had worked and worked so hard for about 30 hours and I didn't want to feel like I was throwing in the towel. It was a feeling of failure and I didn't want that. I was at a point where I was so exhausted and thought that maybe if I could relax a little bit, then I would be able to dilate more, and not have a C-Section. I was also told if it came to a c-section, it would be much easier to already have the epidural in. At about 8 p.m. there was a shift change and my OB that I had done all my pre-natal visits with came in as the on call doctor. She said she wanted to check me again to see if I had dilated any more. She checked and I hadn't. She told me she had been monitoring what was going on all day from her office and she didn't think it was looking good. I was getting close to the 24 hour mark since my water broke and there is risk of infection after that so we discussed and I cried about having a c-section because part of me felt like I had worked and worked for nothing. Imagine hiking 3/4 of the way up a mountain, having to go back down because the rest of the trail was closed, and only not getting to see that magnificent view at the top. That's how I felt.
I was nervous for the C-Section because it's surgery and there are complications that come along with surgery. To add insult to injury, I was told they would come get me shortly and we would head to the operating room, but they came back in to tell me that we had to wait because the woman next door was ready to push and my doctor had to deliver her baby. Not to long after I heard the cheering and aside from the c-section itself, that was the worst feeling in the world.
They came to get me and Kyle was outside with our family praying. They went to get him and we made our way to the operating room. We got to a little waiting area near the room and they had Kyle stop there to put on his scrubs and told him they would come get him once I was ready. Note to medical professionals: people like me want their husbands with them the whole time and since this was not really an "emergency" type situation, we could have waited for him to put his stuff on and then all gone into the room together. They moved me from my hospital bed to the operating table and then strapped my arms down out to my sides in the position one would hang on a cross. They began to give me the anesthesia and then told me they would be testing the area they would be cutting open to see if I was completely numb. She started on my left side and I felt a sharp pain. I said, "Ow!" and my doctor said, "Where did you feel something?" I told her only on the left and was thinking, "These clowns better get me completely numb or they will have to find another way for this baby to come out because I am not about to sit her awake while someone slices me open."
They tilted the table to the left so I was hanging to one side. This was to ensure that area would be completely numb. Again, this would have been a nice time to have my husband in the room holding my hand. He was just waiting outside wondering what was going on. After testing again to make sure the area was numb, they brought Kyle in and he held my hand. They place a sheet of some kind above your waist so that you and your partner cannot see what's going on. They sliced me open, which I did not feel, thank God. Then they began to pull sweet Lillie out. This ladies and gentlemen is the weirdest, most uncomfortable feeling in the world because you can feel all of the pulling and tugging but it doesn't feel like you would imagine it would and it takes longer to get the baby out than you would think it does. It was the absolute worst thing in the world. They kept saying, "We are almost done, hang in there."
I heard Lillie cry and then let it out. I began sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. They asked Kyle, "Do you want to see her, Dad?" and I remember sensing his hesitation because while he wanted to see her he knew that she had the nurses there and I only had him. He didn't want to leave me because I was in a state of shock and shaking. He was asking, "Is this supposed to happen? Is she okay?" He went over to see Lillie, I think mainly to not seem like a bad dad for wanting to make sure I am okay. They brought her over to show me her and I cried and wondered whose nose she had. They asked if I wanted to do skin to skin on the table. Of course I did so they put her on my chest. About that time, while still not being able to quit shaking, I felt like I was going to vomit. They brought over a basin for me and I said, "I can't do this. I don't want to throw up with her on me."
This is the last thing I remember and then I woke up, Kyle was gone and they were getting ready to take me to my postpartum room. Kyle filled in the gap which was that they took him and Lillie and made him do skin to skin since I couldn't do it. I got back to the room and got to hold her and nurse her and the rest of the night was a blur.
I am writing my story out for Lillie to know but also to be honest because I think sometimes we think we are bad moms if we don't just say, "Well it wasn't how I planned it but the end result was great" or some other cliché response. I am guilty of saying this when really my feelings about my delivery is that it sucked. I hated the c-section. Every. Minute. Of. It. I did not get to see my baby right when she came into the world. That sucked. I didn't get to hold my baby right when she came into the world. That sucked. I was shaking so badly and wanted to vomit so I had to make them take her away. That sucked. I passed out and woke up not knowing where Kyle or Lillie were. That sucked. I did not get to deliver her in the way I had hoped and practiced for. And that sucked. Am I glad she is here and she is healthy? Yes. Am I glad nothing went wrong during the c-section? Yes. But I am allowed to be sad about not getting to deliver her the way I wanted.
I in some ways feel I was robbed of a rite of passage. To say, I had a c-section, makes me feel less than. It shouldn't, but it does. To know that if we have another child, I will most likely have to have another c-section makes me sad as well. I had heard of people who elect to have a c-section or who loved having c-sections and I think, "They must be off their rocker; but, to each their own." I just recently had a peace about my delivery and decided that it's okay that I didn't like it and think it was magical. It's okay that I am bummed I didn't get to even try to have her naturally. Will I dwell on it? No. But it's nice to know that I am allowed to have those feelings. And I will be honest when people ask my about it. I will not tell you some prepackaged answer about how it's okay because I got her in the end.
I loved every minute of getting her here until the surgery. I loved the pregnancy, I loved the excitement of packing for the hospital, I loved getting to put my practice of relaxing through the contractions to work, and I loved getting to spend all that time doing these things with Kyle.
Lillie, you are one of the greatest gifts in my life (you're dad choosing to be my best friend forever is the other one) and I cannot imagine my world without you. I hope one day you will be proud of me for the work I did to get you here the natural way and for the decision I made to go the surgical route when things weren't looking very promising. Just know that I tried my very best to get you here the natural way and I tried to be super tough during the procedure of having you the not so natural way. I hope you understand that me not liking my delivery has absolutely nothing to do with you and everything to do with me. Would I do it all over again to get you here? You betcha! You are the best thing in the world and I am so glad you are here!
Xoxo,
Mommy
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