Perspective

So I've been working on this post for about a week and a half now...every time I go to write, it's usually late and I start typing then I think "I'm tired" (or, more probable, Jim is saying "I can't sleep with that light on") and I get about 2 sentences down. It's early tonight, so maybe I'll actually finish this!

Last week I was given the opportunity to watch a friend's adorable little 5(ish) week old boy for a bit before heading to an appointment for work. I was both excited and nervous, nervous because, let's face it, my experience with a 5 week old has been less than ideal.  (i.e. that was the week I referred to as 'hell week' up until recently; it's when G started having 4 hours straight of screaming for days on end) But I was excited too, to see how I'd do, how I would feel, if I would enjoy it...kind of to know if the idea of a little one again is really conceivable yet. Bonus: my 7 month old (what?! that's crazy. 7 months) was up twice in the night, once for almost 2 hours, so I was running on similar-to-newborn-phase sleep, just to make it more realistic. He's nice like that.

Back to the babysitting...I actually really enjoyed it! I was so much more relaxed than I remember being at that stage, and I guess it's because you've been through it once, you know it's OK if you don't necessarily have it all figured out. Funny, I should think that now too, but for some reason I think I should have every stage figured out before I get there...ah, lessons. Anyway, I had the very wonderful gift of being given a newborn who had just been fed, (and I wasn't the one who had to do the feeding) so he was pretty content overall. That, combined with me blow-drying my hair and he was asleep not long after he arrived.

Cut to his mom picking him up. We were crossing paths very quickly as I had to get out the door for work, so I had to keep it brief. Brief = me saying something like "Oh, sure he fussed a little, but it was great! I enjoyed it, he slept most of the time." Cue me walking out the door.

As soon as I got in the car I literally slapped myself in the forehead (let's hope the mark had subsided by the time I got to my meeting. If not, I thank my new bangs for covering it up). I remember hearing those words from friends. Friends who meant well, who wanted me to feel comfortable leaving my son with them and not worry about him fussing or crying, friends who wanted me to feel like I didn't need to worry and they could handle it. I also remember the feelings that went along with hearing those (and similar) words, feelings that showed themselves in thoughts like: "why is he good for them? am I doing something wrong? i must be doing something wrong! he's always great for other people and fussy with me, I must not be a good mother. can I just leave him with them and go home and crawl in bed and not come out?"

As soon as I was able, I called that friend and left her a nice long voicemail (which I'm sure was humorous), explaining how sorry I was that I'd been so flippant in telling her how he truly was. I then laid out what actually happened: he was content for about 5 minutes, then started crying, so I picked him up and we walked around and talked until he calmed down, then I held him until I thought he was calm again. I put him in his seat and he watched me blow-dry my hair (which, if you didn't know, is like baby-calming-magic-machine, at least for us it was!), then he fussed off and on for about 5 minutes then fell asleep. Maybe that was too much info, but I know when I was at that point and wanted to just curl into a little ball and cry some days, it would have been nice to hear "Yeah, he did fuss. Yes, we had to take time out of our day to calm him. Yes, babies can be incredibly hard and frustrating. Which is why I'll watch him again anytime, because I've been there."

I guess what I'm trying to say is, something I have learned very well with G is that I prefer things not to be sugar-coated. I want life full-on; the good, the bad, the ugly, the oh-my-gosh-this-is-what-hell-is-like, the we-had-the-best-day-ever days...ALL of it. So if you watch my baby and he screams for 30 minutes straight, don't tell me that "Oh he cried some but he went to sleep; we had a great time!" Please tell me, "I wanted to scream and run out the door and let it slam behind me and go to my nice, peaceful home, but since he's your child, I didn't. I smiled and whispered and silently cursed myself for offering to watch this demon angel child."

And if you did have a great time, then tell me that too!...but when you see me looking at that deceptive cute little being with a look of slight disgust because he was up 4x the night before and I'm on my 8th cup of coffee, please be kind enough to at least offer some sympathy for my plight, and don't say "He must be so easy! You have the best baby ever!" Because yes, my child is awesome and his smile lights up the entire room and I could just squeeze his little cheeks all day long and I seriously don't know how he can bring this much joy into my life. But his scream also pierces my eardrums in places I didn't know existed and no baby is incredibly adorable while screaming at 3 am. It's just fact.

All of that rambling to say, I'm thankful for the perspective this experience gave me. It helped me to realize that things truly are stages; they really don't last long. (hindsight is 20/20) It really sparked in me this sense of being thankful for every day - even the hard, not-so-good ones - and to look for the good in every day. I don't want to miss it, and I don't want to look back wishing I would have just relaxed and enjoyed it a bit more (which I do, when I think about those first few months). It really helped me to enjoy them just being a baby, because it is such a fleeting time, and I know when my little baby starts to take his first steps (which is going to come far sooner than I realize), I won't get these sleepless, tired, overwhelemingly full yet happy days back, and I will miss them.

Seriously? He slays me.
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