What I know for sure.

I often think, "I married the wrong guy."

Although I may not love him the same as I did 14 years ago, I love the son he gave me, and the unborn child I'm carrying.

If he leaves, I will be okay.

A parent's darkest moments.. compliments of The Band Perry.

My heart is lost.

Or it’s dead.

Whatever it is, it no longer beats.

I can’t breathe.

I can’t live.

I won’t.

This is how I felt this morning for the few minutes I was overwhelmed with emotion thinking about how I would continue living if something happened to Max. As a parent, these thoughts are our darkest moments. I’m working so hard right now to keep him safe. Is it enough? What about when he’s no longer mine to keep safe.. when he’s his own person to keep safe. I want to provide him with all the tools and resources and knowledge to keep himself safe when he’s older. Will it be enough?

These utterly depressing thoughts on this totally normal Wednesday are not totally my fault. It’s that damn song, “If I die young.. blah blah blah” and the part about, “not even gray and burying her baby..”. I shouldn’t just gotten out of the car after the Jason Derulo song. :/

Who cares about the dishwasher.

Half way to work this morning and I found myself balling my eyes out in the car.

I’m super stressed lately. The AC in our house recently broke and while we finally have resolved that scenario, the dish washer has decided to quit draining the post-wash water (the disgusting smelly water), the garage door only opens and closes when it wants to, and my car has an intermittent funny noise that mysteriously disappears when I send my husband to investigate—and of course it’s the kind of noise that is nearly impossible to describe in such a way that the hubs will say, “ah, okay! I know EXACTLY what it is!”. The daycare has ants, the baby is on a crib strike and my carpets are in desperate need of vacuuming but the baby is terrified of the vacuum and I can’t bring myself to put him through it. Oh, and the biggest stressor—I received my formal layoff notice! August 19th. Dooms day.  In preparation, I have surrendered my bank account to the hubs to manage and have already had to endure the wrath of, “do you realize you spent xxx at Marshall’s last month?!”. Yep. Good times.

And then, being a female, I have the normal girl ‘life-bites’: will my saggy stomach ever go back to its cute tight self? Am I doomed to endless summers of ‘mom swim suits’?!

Strangely enough, none of these things opened the flood gates. It was Paul Simon and his song, “St. Judy’s Comet”.  He’s such a bully.

I hadn’t heard this lullaby in years and this morning, with Max soundly sleeping in the back seat of my SUV,  I felt like Paul Simon was singing just for him. I mean, the lyrics are so perfect,

Little sleepy boy
Do you know what time it is?
Well the hour of your bedtime's
Long been past

And though I know you're fighting it
I can tell when you rub your eyes
You're fading fast
Fading fast

And

Well I sang it once
Then I sang it twice
I'm going to sing it three times more
I'm going to stay 'til your resistance
Is overcome

I think this song just helped me remember what’s really important in my life. My family, my baby. Who cares about the dishwasher.

Once Bitten, Twice Shy

I have a biter. I have waited 6 looooong months (he’s been teething since month 4!) for my baby’s mouth to sprout some pearly whites. Now, I envy the ‘late bloomers’ in his class. These days (evenings, really), I nurse in fear. When the tiny chompers first appeared, I knew I’d get bit sooner or later; obviously hoping for the latter. Our nursing sessions are further complicated because I have quite the wiggle worm! While nursing, my son will twist his body from side to side, climb up me to ‘root’ in mommy’s squishy parts, and it is not unusual that he attempts to stand WHILE nursing as well. I’ve been bit at least once per session—sometimes twice! What once was a quiet peaceful time, is not ridden with fear and anxiety. I’m unable to relax and keep my ‘unlatch’ finger ready!

I remember attending a breastfeeding support group very early on in motherhood and hearing a young mother seeking advice for deterring boob biting behavior. I remember distinctly the lactation counselor saying, “unlatch, make eye contact, and firmly say NO BITE’; and also, “try to predict when the bite is near”. So this is what I do. A few nights’ ago, he bit me, I obeyed technique, re-latched him, and my barracuda bit me again! I stayed true to technique; however, this time, it sent him into major meltdown mode that only daddy could calm. When he was in a restful state, I took over again and encouraged him to finish nursing on his way to dreamland.

I think this ‘no bite’ technique is my baby’s first introduction to boundaries. And his meltdown was his reaction to me denying him comfort.. for the first time in our mother/son relationship. It makes me sad to think that for a few short minutes, my baby actually felt hurt and betrayed by me, but that is a small price to pay in the land of nipple bites! I try to find comfort in convincing myself that like most things, this is a phase. I’ve heard that this biting behavior is very unnatural given the mechanics behind suckling; and I’m thinking that the action of nursing might physically soothe any oral discomfort my boobling might have as a result of teething. Whatever the case may be, I can’t wait for this phase to be over and I can go back to loving breastfeeding.

Regrets

Usually, if I have a decision to make, no matter how tough, I am one to spend hours upon hours gathering the necessary facts to convince myself I’m making the right decision. It’s a time consuming process, but I usually have no regrets. Even if the choice I made isn’t as awesome as I thought, I figure, “eh, I researched everything I could. I thought my decision was sound. It wasn’t. Moving along.” That is until recently. This week, two decisions have haunted me:

1. The decision to have a c-section. (yes, I realize I have an earlier post on here boasting about how 'fine' I am with they way Max was born-- but there were these 5 minutes that disturbed me)

When Max and I were cuddling one very early morning, the thought crept into my mind, “I should have at least tried to have a vaginal birth”. Not sure where the thought came from, just all of a sudden, it was there! For 5 whole mins I stewed on the fact even though I had spent 9 months formulating my birth plan to include a vaginal birth—how I spent 9 months reading about why I didn’t want a c-section—and somehow, that is exactly how I ended up having my baby.

 Here’s what I know:

I know I was super uncomfortable. I was tired of being pregnant. I couldn’t sleep. I was constantly starving (not just hungry). I was 185lbs- up 60 whole F-ing lbs from my prepregnancy weight. I had ultrasounds estimating my baby’s weight to be 10+ lbs if carried 40 weeks. My doctor was telling me very honestly, but graphically, that if I attempted to birth my baby vaginally, I would tear “up to my butt”.  So when my doctor said to me, “I think we need to consider a c-section”, without hesitation, without even stopping to discuss with my husband, I said, “Great. Put me in for Thursday!”.

Hindsight (which is always 20/20) I should have surrounded myself with some strong female role models. Women who could put me at ease about child birth. I don’t know. I think I could have done it. But now I will never know.

2. Circumcising my son.  

I really thought this was the ‘normal’ thing to do. As awful as the procedure is, yes, I thought that having my son’s foreskin on his penis surgically removed was normal. Afterall, all of my friends that have boys did it. My thought process kills me. I spent hours and hours researching vaccination and finding a pediatrician that was ‘okay’ with a delayed vax schedule, and yet, I never once considered that I didn’t HAVE to have Max circumcised. I never researched it. When the day came, I just handed my 4 week old baby son to the pediatrician for a 5 min procedure that left my baby screaming for the 20 minute car ride home.

Here’s what I know:

I remember talking about the circumcision once or twice during my pregnancy. I remember thinking, “well of course I’m going to have him circumcised, because if not, it is difficult to clean” or “make him more susceptible to STDs”. With Brian, I remember saying, “we’ll have him circumcised so that you and him will look alike”, and “I don’t want him to feel different when he realizes that he doesn’t look like his dad or his friends”. How ignorant of me.

I wish I would have considered my options. Now it’s too late. And I fear that I will forever deeply regret this decision.

Happy Valentine's Day

Dear Husband,

Are you fucking kidding me? Thanks for being such an asshole this morning when I needed you. When Max needed you. You think our baby is some master con-man! He’s six months old- crying is pretty much his only means of communication! You’d think by now, you would have learned all his different cries: his hunger cry, his “I’m bored” cry, his “I’m tired” cry, and his “I don’t feel well” cry! Last night was clearly his “I don’t feel well” cry.  I mean, besides last night, when was the last time you heard him cry all night like that?! Exactly. Christmas break when he had RSV. So why in the world wouldn’t your daddy radar pick up on the fact that his behavior wasn’t normal; his cry was harsh and screechy like he was uncomfortable?!! He was not crying because he didn’t want to sleep in his crib; or because he didn’t want to sleep; he needed us. He needed our attention, our warmth, our protection, our comfort.

Your attitude really pissed me off this morning. While I appreciate you getting up out of bed to help me with him—the type of help you offered was much less than awesome, and more so offensive and just plain disrespectful.  It was annoying, and frustrating; and leaves me worried about future parenting challenges we’ll face; and makes it difficult for me to even consider asking you for help in the future regardless of how much I need it.

So thanks for being a giant D-bag. Happy Valentine’s Day.

Wife

What an ignorant thing to say?!

"A newborn baby has only three demands. They are: warmth in the arms of tis mother, food from her breasts, and security in the knowledge of her presence. Breastfeeding satisfies all three." Grandly Dick-Read

One of my Facebook friends recently posted a news story about how introducing solid food early to formula fed babies can increase their risk of battling childhood obesity. Someone in the comments posted the following:

“Neither of my older kids was obese at 3 months and they were both on 3 meals a day by somewhere around 4-6 months! Isn't it a matter of listening to why they are crying and not feeding on demand? There are many philosophies on these subjects and much listening to the baby.....patience on Mom's part for sure! Let the Wise one direct you!”

What an ignorant thing to say?! First off, I’m guessing that when this person says, “Let the Wise one direct you”, she’s referring to the Baby Wise book that is highly controversial among the pediatric community. In my opinion, it’s a disgusting and hurtful approach to parenting—in fact, nothing could be farther from Attachment Parenting than the Baby Wise philosophy. I have heard that the author of Baby Wise has a severely broken relationship with his children; and there are accounts of babies “failing to thrive” when subjected to the Baby Wise methods. Baby Wise is borderline inhumane. And that’s all I’ll say about that. My real beef with this person’s comment is the part I bolded, “Isn’t it a matter of listening to why they are crying and not feeding on demand?”

When I first brought Max home, every single time he cried, I offered him a breast. Even if I had just fed him. Breastfeeding is so much more than actually feeding your baby. It’s comfort, it’s love, it’s bonding, it’s your baby learning that you are his safe place, his ultimate protector and provider, and nourishment. Further, breastfed babies turn to the breast for several reasons: they aren’t feeling well, they are teething, growth spurt time—if a developmental milestone such as rolling over or crawling is bothering them; they will want to breastfeed to relax.

Maybe I’m being over dramatic. Maybe the commenter’s reference to “the Wise one” set me off. I don’t know. What I DO know, is that I will never deny my baby my warm embrace or my breast. I will never deny him food in his mouth. I will never deny him the security of my guardianship.