The title of this post sounds deep. In actuality, it has only to do with blogging. (so, in some way I guess it has to do with every post I write...ooo. That is deep) My revelation was that I don't have to wait until I have some deep revelation to actually write a blog post. I have this sneaking suspicion that some, possibly a lot, of bloggers actually start writing multiple posts whenever they have time/thoughts come to them, and save them to finish later. Genius! Genius, I tell you. I, in my always-make-things-10x harder-before-figuring-out-there's-a-better-way-to-do-it ways, have trouble keeping up with blogging because I think I have to wait until I have the time, energy and mental capacity to come up with some deep, thought-provoking post. I have ideas for posts all the time, but then fail to write them because I don't have an hour to just sit and blog at that moment. Well, I just figured out, I don't have to. I can take 5 minutes and get out what's in my head, then come back to it later. What?! Craziness. This may just change my life.
A perfect example of my former thinking ways is that I had planned to blog every day for a week leading up to Graham's birthday. Epic.Fail. I got 3 out. 3 out of 7...not even a 50%. Had I had my revelation prior to that week, it could have turned out a whole lot differently. What really happened was that I had about 10 zillion things going on, between my family coming to town, working a totally different schedule than normal, personal commitments and planning a birthday party that I was too tired to think at night and then writing became a chore. And frankly, my last post took a lot out of me and I needed some days to decompress.
But now, now the party is done, my baby is 1, my parents have left and I have a new-found approach to blogging. Turning over a new leaf, I dare say. It's kind of like the blogging New Year for me; maybe I'll don a little black hat and drink some champagne to celebrate. Except I don't have any...I'll have to work on that. But for now, I'm going to go jot down some ideas I have, then save them for later. See? Genius.
Wednesday, November 14, 2012
Sunday, November 4, 2012
The Post I Really Don't Want to Write
But I need to. I know I need to. I know it will be good for me, and could be good for others. I've been avoiding it for months, for lots of reasons. I'm afraid of what people will think; it's like inviting feedback from random people when you write a blog, and feedback can be scary. I'm not sure I'll get it all out, or say it all right, say it the way I want to. Most of all, I know I still have days when I struggle with it, and it's so much harder to write about current struggles than things you've totally gotten over. I mean, who wants to share with the world your most personal struggles? Not many people that I know of, and I would include myself in that list.
But, I do feel it's important. I know when I was in the thick of postpartum depression, I desperately wanted someone, anyone to understand how I felt; what I was going through. It's not something people just bring up in conversation: "Hey, I'm Alisha. I have a 4 month old and am seeing a counselor for postpartum depression. How are you? Want to get coffee?" I found some good resources and groups online that made me feel not quite so alone, but it's still not quite the same as 'real' people, you know? So, my prayer is that in writing this, it's not a foreboding or discouraging thing, but an encouragement to someone who may need to read about real life, and that it's OK to struggle, and there are people who get it. (re: 2 Corinthians 1:3-7)
And that is a good starting point for talking about this. The alone feeling. You are completely convinced that no one understands how you're feeling, and if they did, would think you were crazy. Logically, even at the time, I thought that sounded so self-centered/woe-is-me, but still, it seemed like reality. And if I were to get up the nerve to talk about it, to share what I was truly thinking and feeling, what in the world would people think of me? Things like I wanted to just run away some days, or that I would actually get angry at my baby, or that I woke up every morning with a feeling of fear, dread and anxiety - my shoulders would immediately tense before my feet even hit the floor. I was afraid that most moms would look at me like I was some kind of horrible person that needed to have my child taken away.
It started with that, that totally helpless, alone feeling. Then, the negative thoughts came in. 'Why is this so hard?' 'I seem to be having a harder time adjusting than most moms I know.' 'I don't feel like I'm enjoying this.' 'I must be doing something wrong.' 'Every time I leave him with someone they tell me how great he was. He's not great at home. Or maybe it's just me.' And on, and on, and on. It's cyclical. The more you hear these negative thoughts, the more you believe them, the more they seem like truth, and the more alone you feel, so you just shut others out and stay in your head with these thoughts. And it spirals, and you're all of a sudden to the point where you're so overwhelmed you don't know how to get out.
Things like just taking a shower, or going to Target, or making dinner or cleaning seem so overwhelming that you don't know where to start, so you just don't do them. Or, if you're incredibly blessed, your husband makes you do things like take a shower and holds the crying baby for a few minutes, and for a few minutes, you start to feel better...until you start thinking again. 'Why can't I do this?' 'Most moms don't have a lot of help from their husbands and they figure it out. Why can't I?' 'I should be able to do this.'
Shoulds. That's where it really was/is for me. I remember very vividly the day I called the counseling office. It was one of my 2 days/week at home...one of the 2 days/week I dreaded, if we're being honest. At work, I knew what to do, could get things done and was comfortable. At home, I was anything but. So, that Thursday, as I literally sat in our living room sobbing my eyes out at nothing in particular but everything all at once, I realized I needed help. I texted Jim and told him and he simply said 'OK.' That's really all he needed to say; it was enough to tell me I had his support.
Gosh, I was so nervous the first day I went to the counselor. I tried to act all cool and friendly and professional. At work, I have to market quite frequently, so I can do a good professional face when I need to. But it didn't last long. He asked me to tell him what I was feeling, specifically, about me, about motherhood, toward Graham. That last one got me. When I verbally said that sometimes, he annoyed me, or I was mad at him - a small, helpless baby - I just lost it. And you know what my counselor did? He handed me a Kleenex, said it was OK, and before I left, prayed for me. And I knew that, at that moment, God had definitely led me to the right person.
Without going into all the details of my counseling sessions, basically, I had to learn to re-train my thoughts. I would write down a thought I had, for example: "Everyone seems to handle motherhood better than me." Then, I would think of a few things that would negate that statement: 'Everyone' is overgeneralizing.' 'I only see parts of other people's lives; I don't know what they're thinking/feeling.' 'This is a huge life change, and huge life changes take time to get used to.' I would then go one further, and combat it with its exact opposite, with things that were undoubtedly true: 'God ordained me to be his mother.' 'I know his quirks, his needs, his cues better than anyone.' 'No one could be a better mother to Graham than I am; God sovereignly chose him to be part of our family, and not anyone else's'. I think you get the picture.
It was a long road, one that I'm still on, really. This week? This week's been rough. I'm not entirely sure why; hormones maybe. Jim's been working later a lot. Graham has had some reflux issues. But that tenseness, that anxiety in the mornings, that irritability, that sense of being so overwhelmed I'm not sure where to start...it's been there, much more often than I would like to admit. But, God does give enough grace, and daily I am sustained.
I can say I truly love being a mother now. I still find it incredibly hard, and you know what? I probably always will. But in that, I've been stretched, I've grown more than I ever thought I could grow, and it's making me into a better person. Sometimes I just go in and look at my little guy and swell with joy, or just rock him and cry, because I'm so thankful. So thankful for where we are, and where we've come from. This has been the single hardest thing I've ever gone through in my life, but also one of the best. It has made me less reliant on myself, more open with others, and more willing to understand. It has strengthened our marriage. It's helped me to truly understand, just a little, the depth of the love and mercy of God, and how much I am truly dependent on Him. And, I think, it's created an even deeper bond with Graham than I would have had. Once you've gone through hell and back with someone, you grow this sort of connection that binds you together on a level that you really can't even put into words, and that is a very precious thing.
It's done. It's not perfect; there's more I could have said, maybe some I could have left out, and my English teacher friends probably wouldn't appreciate this if it was in a paper, for the lack of tense agreement. But I'm glad I wrote it. I may piggy-back on this later and delve into why I think I had postpartum, and what I may do differently if, Lord willing, there is a next time. For now, I'm going to post this, then go to bed - but not before stopping in to just watch that precious little boy all curled up fast asleep, because moments like that are too good to pass up.
But, I do feel it's important. I know when I was in the thick of postpartum depression, I desperately wanted someone, anyone to understand how I felt; what I was going through. It's not something people just bring up in conversation: "Hey, I'm Alisha. I have a 4 month old and am seeing a counselor for postpartum depression. How are you? Want to get coffee?" I found some good resources and groups online that made me feel not quite so alone, but it's still not quite the same as 'real' people, you know? So, my prayer is that in writing this, it's not a foreboding or discouraging thing, but an encouragement to someone who may need to read about real life, and that it's OK to struggle, and there are people who get it. (re: 2 Corinthians 1:3-7)
And that is a good starting point for talking about this. The alone feeling. You are completely convinced that no one understands how you're feeling, and if they did, would think you were crazy. Logically, even at the time, I thought that sounded so self-centered/woe-is-me, but still, it seemed like reality. And if I were to get up the nerve to talk about it, to share what I was truly thinking and feeling, what in the world would people think of me? Things like I wanted to just run away some days, or that I would actually get angry at my baby, or that I woke up every morning with a feeling of fear, dread and anxiety - my shoulders would immediately tense before my feet even hit the floor. I was afraid that most moms would look at me like I was some kind of horrible person that needed to have my child taken away.
It started with that, that totally helpless, alone feeling. Then, the negative thoughts came in. 'Why is this so hard?' 'I seem to be having a harder time adjusting than most moms I know.' 'I don't feel like I'm enjoying this.' 'I must be doing something wrong.' 'Every time I leave him with someone they tell me how great he was. He's not great at home. Or maybe it's just me.' And on, and on, and on. It's cyclical. The more you hear these negative thoughts, the more you believe them, the more they seem like truth, and the more alone you feel, so you just shut others out and stay in your head with these thoughts. And it spirals, and you're all of a sudden to the point where you're so overwhelmed you don't know how to get out.
Things like just taking a shower, or going to Target, or making dinner or cleaning seem so overwhelming that you don't know where to start, so you just don't do them. Or, if you're incredibly blessed, your husband makes you do things like take a shower and holds the crying baby for a few minutes, and for a few minutes, you start to feel better...until you start thinking again. 'Why can't I do this?' 'Most moms don't have a lot of help from their husbands and they figure it out. Why can't I?' 'I should be able to do this.'
Shoulds. That's where it really was/is for me. I remember very vividly the day I called the counseling office. It was one of my 2 days/week at home...one of the 2 days/week I dreaded, if we're being honest. At work, I knew what to do, could get things done and was comfortable. At home, I was anything but. So, that Thursday, as I literally sat in our living room sobbing my eyes out at nothing in particular but everything all at once, I realized I needed help. I texted Jim and told him and he simply said 'OK.' That's really all he needed to say; it was enough to tell me I had his support.
Gosh, I was so nervous the first day I went to the counselor. I tried to act all cool and friendly and professional. At work, I have to market quite frequently, so I can do a good professional face when I need to. But it didn't last long. He asked me to tell him what I was feeling, specifically, about me, about motherhood, toward Graham. That last one got me. When I verbally said that sometimes, he annoyed me, or I was mad at him - a small, helpless baby - I just lost it. And you know what my counselor did? He handed me a Kleenex, said it was OK, and before I left, prayed for me. And I knew that, at that moment, God had definitely led me to the right person.
Without going into all the details of my counseling sessions, basically, I had to learn to re-train my thoughts. I would write down a thought I had, for example: "Everyone seems to handle motherhood better than me." Then, I would think of a few things that would negate that statement: 'Everyone' is overgeneralizing.' 'I only see parts of other people's lives; I don't know what they're thinking/feeling.' 'This is a huge life change, and huge life changes take time to get used to.' I would then go one further, and combat it with its exact opposite, with things that were undoubtedly true: 'God ordained me to be his mother.' 'I know his quirks, his needs, his cues better than anyone.' 'No one could be a better mother to Graham than I am; God sovereignly chose him to be part of our family, and not anyone else's'. I think you get the picture.
It was a long road, one that I'm still on, really. This week? This week's been rough. I'm not entirely sure why; hormones maybe. Jim's been working later a lot. Graham has had some reflux issues. But that tenseness, that anxiety in the mornings, that irritability, that sense of being so overwhelmed I'm not sure where to start...it's been there, much more often than I would like to admit. But, God does give enough grace, and daily I am sustained.
I can say I truly love being a mother now. I still find it incredibly hard, and you know what? I probably always will. But in that, I've been stretched, I've grown more than I ever thought I could grow, and it's making me into a better person. Sometimes I just go in and look at my little guy and swell with joy, or just rock him and cry, because I'm so thankful. So thankful for where we are, and where we've come from. This has been the single hardest thing I've ever gone through in my life, but also one of the best. It has made me less reliant on myself, more open with others, and more willing to understand. It has strengthened our marriage. It's helped me to truly understand, just a little, the depth of the love and mercy of God, and how much I am truly dependent on Him. And, I think, it's created an even deeper bond with Graham than I would have had. Once you've gone through hell and back with someone, you grow this sort of connection that binds you together on a level that you really can't even put into words, and that is a very precious thing.
It's done. It's not perfect; there's more I could have said, maybe some I could have left out, and my English teacher friends probably wouldn't appreciate this if it was in a paper, for the lack of tense agreement. But I'm glad I wrote it. I may piggy-back on this later and delve into why I think I had postpartum, and what I may do differently if, Lord willing, there is a next time. For now, I'm going to post this, then go to bed - but not before stopping in to just watch that precious little boy all curled up fast asleep, because moments like that are too good to pass up.
Saturday, November 3, 2012
Birthday Week: First Year Top 10, Part 2
And...we're back! 2 days in a row is quite the accomplishment, so I think I'll just end here, close the computer, and go to bed.
Kidding. Kind of, except I really am having trouble of thinking of five more specific things people told me about the first year of parenting. I don't know why exactly, but I think they all kind of run together. Nevertheless, I'm going to keep going. It's time for another installment of "First Year Top 10: Myth or Fact". (In my mind, I hear that being said in the guy's voice from Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me on NPR)
6. "You will become more 'you' than you ever were before". Fact. This one is probably the most true, yet most difficult to grasp. I have struggled the most this past year in finding me again. In fact, my very first post on this blog was about identity, and I think that is a constant learning and growing process. It's funny, I have always been a confident person and known, for the most part, who I am and what I want out of life. Well, if you ever want your world rocked just have a baby; if you want it rocked even more, have a baby who has some serious health issues and well, who are you again? Because you'll start to wonder. But I know one thing: as I grow in this mothering journey, I'm discovering parts of myself I didn't know were there. Sometimes good, sometimes not, but have a much deeper understanding of myself and of others, and never was able to realize before that that was even missing.
7. "The first three months are hard, but after that, it all starts to click". Myth-ish. I think this is a true statement for a lot of babies, but for us, I think a lot of this not being true was attributed to his reflux. What was true came from a dear friend who has gone through a very similar reflux experience: after 6 months, it gets better. I doubted that for, oh...about 6 months. Then one day, I realized, she was right! Something with babies with severe reflux...once they can sit up independently, life becomes more happy for everyone involved. So, 6 months was our marker; not that there weren't some wonderfully memorable times before then, but there were a lot of hard days too (and by a lot, I mean the majority) and after 6 months, those hard days became fewer.
8. "Don't compare. Your family is your family, and you do what works for you". Fact. I laugh when I write this, because...oh, the irony. Daily I still struggle with this! Oh, she's spending more quality time with her kids, or doing more home projects, or cooking great meals, or..or.or..or what? As much as I struggle with this, I am so thankful for its truth. God gave Graham to us to raise, in the home we live in, with the lives we live, and that is going to look different than anyone else, and that's OK. So hard, but so very, very true.
9. "You won't be wearing those kinds of clothes much anymore". Fact. This is in reference to things like wool, cashmere, silk...things that I had a lot of in my wardrobe, thanks to a lovely little thing called the J. Crew outlet. However, once your cashmere sweater gets spit up on a couple of times, and you realize just how hard that is to get out of said cashmere sweater, you start to think...hmm. Maybe, just maybe, this should be reserved for non-baby things. I remember when Graham was only a couple of months old going shopping because, as I told Jim, "I just need cute around-the-house things to wear". Things that are easy to wash, but also don't make you feel like you're that tired looking housewife that I think every mom dreads. I'm thankful I do get to wear my 'nicer' things still to work functions and date nights...and it kind of makes those pieces more special when I do wear them!
10. "The days are long, but the years are short". Fact. Times a billion. Oh, especially in those first days, there were times when I was just counting down until daddy came home. Or days like today, when little man skips his morning nap, so takes a weirdly-timed afternoon nap and wants to be in bed at 5:30 when it's daylight savings time. Not happening...but let me tell you, that hour and a half between 5:30 and 7 was looong. Like, I cracked open a beer while making dinner long. On days like that, it's easy to think that they're never going to be independent, never going to eat by themselves or entertain themselves for longer than 5.2 seconds. But then. Then, I start to get ready for his party and look through pictures of the last year. Of how little he was, and how he couldn't even sit, or swallow almost-liquid baby food the first time he tried it, or how his tiger 'lovey' was the same length as him. And now, now he is standing, taking steps, saying words (he says "I did it!" almost every time he flips off a light switch. Hysterical), discovering, learning, eating mostly finger foods and I just want to say "Stop! Just stop for a little bit!" Because this year has gone quickly. The really really hard days of those first months seem like a lifetime ago, but I just can't believe he's a year old already (almost. He's not yet. Let's make that clear.)
Woo! I did it. Top 10. There were so many others, and maybe this list is a bit lame, but that's OK. It got me blogging again, and we're going for a 3-peat tomorrow night. See you then! (or, if you really hate this, then maybe not. But that's OK too. Because I'm secure in my identity as a mom. Sometimes.)
Kidding. Kind of, except I really am having trouble of thinking of five more specific things people told me about the first year of parenting. I don't know why exactly, but I think they all kind of run together. Nevertheless, I'm going to keep going. It's time for another installment of "First Year Top 10: Myth or Fact". (In my mind, I hear that being said in the guy's voice from Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me on NPR)
6. "You will become more 'you' than you ever were before". Fact. This one is probably the most true, yet most difficult to grasp. I have struggled the most this past year in finding me again. In fact, my very first post on this blog was about identity, and I think that is a constant learning and growing process. It's funny, I have always been a confident person and known, for the most part, who I am and what I want out of life. Well, if you ever want your world rocked just have a baby; if you want it rocked even more, have a baby who has some serious health issues and well, who are you again? Because you'll start to wonder. But I know one thing: as I grow in this mothering journey, I'm discovering parts of myself I didn't know were there. Sometimes good, sometimes not, but have a much deeper understanding of myself and of others, and never was able to realize before that that was even missing.
7. "The first three months are hard, but after that, it all starts to click". Myth-ish. I think this is a true statement for a lot of babies, but for us, I think a lot of this not being true was attributed to his reflux. What was true came from a dear friend who has gone through a very similar reflux experience: after 6 months, it gets better. I doubted that for, oh...about 6 months. Then one day, I realized, she was right! Something with babies with severe reflux...once they can sit up independently, life becomes more happy for everyone involved. So, 6 months was our marker; not that there weren't some wonderfully memorable times before then, but there were a lot of hard days too (and by a lot, I mean the majority) and after 6 months, those hard days became fewer.
8. "Don't compare. Your family is your family, and you do what works for you". Fact. I laugh when I write this, because...oh, the irony. Daily I still struggle with this! Oh, she's spending more quality time with her kids, or doing more home projects, or cooking great meals, or..or.or..or what? As much as I struggle with this, I am so thankful for its truth. God gave Graham to us to raise, in the home we live in, with the lives we live, and that is going to look different than anyone else, and that's OK. So hard, but so very, very true.
9. "You won't be wearing those kinds of clothes much anymore". Fact. This is in reference to things like wool, cashmere, silk...things that I had a lot of in my wardrobe, thanks to a lovely little thing called the J. Crew outlet. However, once your cashmere sweater gets spit up on a couple of times, and you realize just how hard that is to get out of said cashmere sweater, you start to think...hmm. Maybe, just maybe, this should be reserved for non-baby things. I remember when Graham was only a couple of months old going shopping because, as I told Jim, "I just need cute around-the-house things to wear". Things that are easy to wash, but also don't make you feel like you're that tired looking housewife that I think every mom dreads. I'm thankful I do get to wear my 'nicer' things still to work functions and date nights...and it kind of makes those pieces more special when I do wear them!
10. "The days are long, but the years are short". Fact. Times a billion. Oh, especially in those first days, there were times when I was just counting down until daddy came home. Or days like today, when little man skips his morning nap, so takes a weirdly-timed afternoon nap and wants to be in bed at 5:30 when it's daylight savings time. Not happening...but let me tell you, that hour and a half between 5:30 and 7 was looong. Like, I cracked open a beer while making dinner long. On days like that, it's easy to think that they're never going to be independent, never going to eat by themselves or entertain themselves for longer than 5.2 seconds. But then. Then, I start to get ready for his party and look through pictures of the last year. Of how little he was, and how he couldn't even sit, or swallow almost-liquid baby food the first time he tried it, or how his tiger 'lovey' was the same length as him. And now, now he is standing, taking steps, saying words (he says "I did it!" almost every time he flips off a light switch. Hysterical), discovering, learning, eating mostly finger foods and I just want to say "Stop! Just stop for a little bit!" Because this year has gone quickly. The really really hard days of those first months seem like a lifetime ago, but I just can't believe he's a year old already (almost. He's not yet. Let's make that clear.)
Woo! I did it. Top 10. There were so many others, and maybe this list is a bit lame, but that's OK. It got me blogging again, and we're going for a 3-peat tomorrow night. See you then! (or, if you really hate this, then maybe not. But that's OK too. Because I'm secure in my identity as a mom. Sometimes.)
Friday, November 2, 2012
Birthday Week: First Year Top 10, Part 1
Last year, today was one day past my due date and I was anxiously awaiting to have a baby at any point in time. This year, said baby is fast asleep in his room and has just started taking his first steps. It's hard to fathom. The past year has been one of growth, of joy, of trials, of pain, of laughter, of tears, of more love than I have ever known and learning more about myself than I thought was humanly possible. I've posted periodically throughout the year, but have never really put down everything I've wanted to say, all that I wanted to document, all I wanted to remember. Because of that, I've decided to post every night through Graham's birthday next week. I'm not sure exactly what I'm going to post each night, but I have some ideas. I have been meaning to post all night tonight to get started, but just couldn't get going, and now it's 10:30. Honestly, I think it's because I know if I do, it means that Graham is actually turning 1, and that he is no longer really a 'baby' baby, and now I'm going to cry, excuse me...
OK. Pulling it together. I have a feeling some of this will be some seriously deep stuff, but tonight, because it's late and because my husband is camping and I don't have someone to cry to if I wanted, we're going to keep it a bit lighter, thus my 'First Year Top 10: Myth or Fact'. I should probably make this into a TV game show. To play, I'm going to write down something I was told about the first year of parenthood. Then, I'm going to say if it was a myth or a fact. Mind blowing, I know. Note: this is in our case...I'm sure it can vary greatly for everyone. Nevertheless, let's get started shall we?
1. "You'll forget the pain of childbirth." Myth. Did I forget that? NO. Do I ever think I'll forget it? Nope. In fact, if I think about it too much, I get a little freaked out about giving birth again someday. I had a relatively quick labor, but very "intense" (nice word for: hurt.like.a.mother. No pun intended), so to think I'll forget that pain isn't really reasonable. I am able to distance myself from it, and also know now that when it was done, it was really done, and that I can do it. I think that may be what people mean by 'forget the pain'. Or if they really do forget the pain, well, I'm jealous.
2. "Just enjoy every moment. They go by so quickly and you'll miss them." Fact-mostly. I almost can't believe I'm saying that, because for a long time, I did not think that. When you have a baby screaming in pain for 4 hours straight every night for 2 months, your first thought is not "I'm going to miss this". Your first thought is "I miss my old life." And even now, I don't miss the screaming, for obvious reasons. But what I do miss is how little he was, and how even when he was screaming, he could fall asleep in my arms, or how he would just lay there and look at me. Because now, he's a 24 lb. squirming almost-toddler, and he's so much fun, but cuddle times are hard to come by some days. So I get it now. With experience comes wisdom, isn't that how the saying goes?
3. "You're in survival mode for the first few months, and you'll get through." Big.fat.fact. You do not feel like you'll get through some days. The alarm on my phone that woke me up every two hours to feed him? I hate that thing. Correction: I despise it. I heard someone's phone with that music as their ringer the other day and it was like instant anxiety/panic/dread. But we got through, and even looking on those days I can fondly remember (most) of them. I laughed the other morning because I complain sometimes when he's up at 6 am after sleeping all night...how in the world did I get through months of waking up every few hours, and staying up for an hour to feed/change/burp/repeat? Lots of episodes of Law and Order, reruns of America's Next Top Model and the grace of God. That's how.
4. "Breast is best - it will be hard, but do what you have to do to make it work." Myth-for us. Breastfeeding was sweet at times, and I'm glad we did it for a while, and want to try again with any future children. But, as I realized through a lot of pain and tears, it just wasn't to be. I think God used that to really show me how much I'm not in control. Between reflux, protein allergies, post-partum and lots of other things, I'm surprised we made it as long as we did (almost 5 months). I remember the first time we took Graham to the chiropractor after switching him to his lovely, God-sent but incredibly overpriced formula, our chiropractor couldn't believe he was the same baby! He kept going on and on about it, because it was the first time in 4 months he'd seen him smiling and not screaming...that's when I knew we were on to something.
5. "The hardest thing is just getting out the door." FACT. Graham is almost one, and still, every day I have to plan in my head how we're going to arrange everything and everyone to get out the door on time; it doesn't matter if 'on time' means 8 am or 4 pm...it's an art form. Even on the days when everything is perfectly in order - things for the sitter, clothes picked out for all of us, showered the night before...inevitably, 99.9% of the time we're still rushing at the end. Some days, it's because there has been a random blessing from heaven and Graham slept in, so we decide 'Eh. Who needs to get up yet?' But usually, it's more like Graham was up 3 times, or woke up with reflux or teething and literally is pulling my pajama pants to my ankles (well good morning neighbors! This is why our blinds stay closed in the morning) trying to climb on me to be held...whatever it is, while I am cherishing these times (see #2), I do greatly look forward to the day when that part of life will be a little more smooth.
I just edited the title of this to say 'Part 1'. A) because I'm tired and my brain is turning to mush and B) because this gives me something to write about tomorrow in case I'm not in my 'let's talk seriously deep life-altering things' mode yet. More to come...
OK. Pulling it together. I have a feeling some of this will be some seriously deep stuff, but tonight, because it's late and because my husband is camping and I don't have someone to cry to if I wanted, we're going to keep it a bit lighter, thus my 'First Year Top 10: Myth or Fact'. I should probably make this into a TV game show. To play, I'm going to write down something I was told about the first year of parenthood. Then, I'm going to say if it was a myth or a fact. Mind blowing, I know. Note: this is in our case...I'm sure it can vary greatly for everyone. Nevertheless, let's get started shall we?
1. "You'll forget the pain of childbirth." Myth. Did I forget that? NO. Do I ever think I'll forget it? Nope. In fact, if I think about it too much, I get a little freaked out about giving birth again someday. I had a relatively quick labor, but very "intense" (nice word for: hurt.like.a.mother. No pun intended), so to think I'll forget that pain isn't really reasonable. I am able to distance myself from it, and also know now that when it was done, it was really done, and that I can do it. I think that may be what people mean by 'forget the pain'. Or if they really do forget the pain, well, I'm jealous.
2. "Just enjoy every moment. They go by so quickly and you'll miss them." Fact-mostly. I almost can't believe I'm saying that, because for a long time, I did not think that. When you have a baby screaming in pain for 4 hours straight every night for 2 months, your first thought is not "I'm going to miss this". Your first thought is "I miss my old life." And even now, I don't miss the screaming, for obvious reasons. But what I do miss is how little he was, and how even when he was screaming, he could fall asleep in my arms, or how he would just lay there and look at me. Because now, he's a 24 lb. squirming almost-toddler, and he's so much fun, but cuddle times are hard to come by some days. So I get it now. With experience comes wisdom, isn't that how the saying goes?
3. "You're in survival mode for the first few months, and you'll get through." Big.fat.fact. You do not feel like you'll get through some days. The alarm on my phone that woke me up every two hours to feed him? I hate that thing. Correction: I despise it. I heard someone's phone with that music as their ringer the other day and it was like instant anxiety/panic/dread. But we got through, and even looking on those days I can fondly remember (most) of them. I laughed the other morning because I complain sometimes when he's up at 6 am after sleeping all night...how in the world did I get through months of waking up every few hours, and staying up for an hour to feed/change/burp/repeat? Lots of episodes of Law and Order, reruns of America's Next Top Model and the grace of God. That's how.
4. "Breast is best - it will be hard, but do what you have to do to make it work." Myth-for us. Breastfeeding was sweet at times, and I'm glad we did it for a while, and want to try again with any future children. But, as I realized through a lot of pain and tears, it just wasn't to be. I think God used that to really show me how much I'm not in control. Between reflux, protein allergies, post-partum and lots of other things, I'm surprised we made it as long as we did (almost 5 months). I remember the first time we took Graham to the chiropractor after switching him to his lovely, God-sent but incredibly overpriced formula, our chiropractor couldn't believe he was the same baby! He kept going on and on about it, because it was the first time in 4 months he'd seen him smiling and not screaming...that's when I knew we were on to something.
5. "The hardest thing is just getting out the door." FACT. Graham is almost one, and still, every day I have to plan in my head how we're going to arrange everything and everyone to get out the door on time; it doesn't matter if 'on time' means 8 am or 4 pm...it's an art form. Even on the days when everything is perfectly in order - things for the sitter, clothes picked out for all of us, showered the night before...inevitably, 99.9% of the time we're still rushing at the end. Some days, it's because there has been a random blessing from heaven and Graham slept in, so we decide 'Eh. Who needs to get up yet?' But usually, it's more like Graham was up 3 times, or woke up with reflux or teething and literally is pulling my pajama pants to my ankles (well good morning neighbors! This is why our blinds stay closed in the morning) trying to climb on me to be held...whatever it is, while I am cherishing these times (see #2), I do greatly look forward to the day when that part of life will be a little more smooth.
I just edited the title of this to say 'Part 1'. A) because I'm tired and my brain is turning to mush and B) because this gives me something to write about tomorrow in case I'm not in my 'let's talk seriously deep life-altering things' mode yet. More to come...
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