What I wasn't told...

I'm not gonna lie, I've missed blogging. I didn't do it all that often, and my posts were getting further and further apart, but I've been walking around (more like sitting around) thinking about all the things I need to blog about, and how unorganized it will likely be.

Let's see, I guess it's only been about 3 weeks or so since that last post, but it feels like a million years ago. We've had our baby boy, and checked month five off our list in those few weeks. I have my birth story written out, a rough draft at least. I can't decide how I will post it, or if I will, because my writing is usually pretty detailed, and I don't know if the whole world wants or needs to read all about his arrival. The important thing is that he's here, and healthy.

Last night Jason and I were talking about our return to Colorado. He's becoming more anxious to leave here, and feels defeated a lot at therapy because he's letting other peoples comments get to him. I haven't gone with him since he started back off of leave, which has been hard for me because I really feel like I have no purpose here. He comes back and tells me who pissed him off that day because of their comments. He's never usually this sensitive to things like that, so I think he's getting really tired of this place, and just feels so done with it all. People usually are just giving him a hard time, saying things like "Come on man, why are you going so slow?" He tries to explain that he's exhausted, that his baby does not like to sleep at night, and he keeps dropping that weight because he can only hold it with the two good fingers on his left hand. I hate to see him this discouraged, and try to remind him daily how great of a job he's doing in his recovery. His occupational therapist told him that if he really does leave by the end of March, he will have set a record in getting out of here. If he does, I'm going to make them put his picture on the wall :) Anyway, I was telling him that now, after 5 months (only 5 months!), this is starting to feel normal, and I'm worried that I'll feel out of place (again) when we move back. I'm just at such a weird place in my life, a place I never, ever expected to be in to begin with. I'm not working, haven't been working, and don't know if I'll be able to go back to work since I only want to go back part time. He'll go back to work, and might be working full days again, and that will be weird for me, although baby will be older, and hopefully be taking it a little easier on Mommy.

I can't tell you how often I think of how blessed I am to have my husband home with me - literally full time. I wonder if all this was in someones bigger plan - they knew I wouldn't be able to handle the emotions and demands that come with motherhood all by myself, and so they allowed my husband to be here with me 24/7 for the first 3+ months of his life. How blessed am I? Who else can say that? Someone knew I needed to be slowly broken in to this new life!

Which brings me to my next paragraph - Motherhood.

Holy Moly - no one prepared me for this. A few days after we got home, I told Jason we should sue someone for not telling us it was going to be like this. I mean if people can sue McDonald's for making them fat, we should be able to find someone to sue for becoming parents before we knew what it was all about.

All my life I have wanted to be a mommy. I've spent so many years babysitting and helping with other peoples children, all the while making mental notes of what I'd never do when I became a mom. I've already done about half of those things. Now I struggle daily with breastfeeding, the demands of being a mom, whether or not I'm doing things the 'right' way, wondering if I passed my strabismus on to my precious little boy, hoping so hard I did not so that he won't have to wear glasses all his life and possibly have surgery like his Mommy did, hoping that by cosleeping right now, we won't be hurting his ability to sleep in his own bed in the future, wondering if giving him a pacifier or bottle will ruin him, letting his sleep on his tummy almost all the time, using Johnsons & Johnsons baby soap (gasp!), hoping the marks left by the forceps will not scar - a constant reminder that I could not get this baby out on my own, and the trauma I put him through...these are just a few of my daily thoughts.

No one prepares you for this life of constant worry - Jason asked the pediatrician "So are we just going to worry about everything for the next 18 years?" She had a very sad look on her face when she shook her head yes. Like a "You're just now figuring out what parenthood entails?" look. Everyone preaches it when you talk about having baby fever - "Don't do it yet, enjoy your life while you can. Your life won't be your own anymore." And while I took all this in to account, we still went ahead and got pregnant. We often compared parenthood to being dog parents - thinking it couldn't be any worse - you actually have to get up and go downstairs to let the dog out every time - with a baby, at least they sleep upstairs with you! This was really the only comparison we could make of the two. If only I could go back to a life of up and down stairs to let the dog out at night instead of being awake for 2 hours and asleep for one while your husband peacefully sleeps next to you - I might.

Don't get me wrong, I love my baby boy. I can't say that I love being a mother right now, because I don't feel like one yet. I feel like a cow - as a friend of mine once described breastfeeding. The first couple of days home, I think I was in shock of how much had changed in such a short amount of time. My whole day revolves around feeding and changing this little one. To think about going out somewhere is just that - a thought. We did go to Target one day after I couldn't stand sitting in this apartment any longer. As soon as we got there, we sat in the parking lot and I breastfeed for about 45 minutes. We loaded up and went in, only to find that he was still hungry. The one time in the day he decided he wanted to eat from both sides was the precise time Mommy wanted to wander the aisles of Target. Those days are gone. I can't tell you how unsatisfied I feel when I go in to Target and can't walk through every single aisle there. You just don't know what you're missing if you go in and only get what you need. Who does that!? (My husband.) Such is life as a mommy - a harsh reality for this only child. So we sped through the grocery aisles and got only the things on our list, and went back to the car for another 45 minutes of breastfeeding.

Breastfeeding is not easy. And it hurts. No matter what those lactation people tell you - it freaking hurts. I used to tell my patients that all the time anyway - I couldn't imagine how it wasn't supposed to hurt. Those things aren't used to being sucked on every 2 hours for at least 30 minutes at a time, it's going to hurt in the beginning. After my labor/delivery/postpartum experience, I feel like I was such an un-empathetic (I don't know if that's a word) nurse to those poor ladies. Now I know why they had to be reminded or encouraged to feed their babies - that sounds bad - but when you are so sore you cringe at the thought of feeding your little one, you put it off as long as you can. The first few days were fine for us, he fed great right from the start despite his rough entry. Then of course, the day we went home, he decided to stop feeding well. That was also the day I decided to give him a pacifier - something I will not encourage my patients to do if I ever go back to work. I think it really messed him up, plus my milk hadn't come in. We put the paci away after that, and only recently reintroduced it. In the mean time he was so angry with me, and getting hungry. He couldn't be sitting alone without screaming, and I was convinced I was starving my baby. He lost too much weight, and I came so close to supplementing with formula, but I'm so glad I held out. I used to get so upset with patients when they refused to supplement their babies "It's just a little formula, it's not going to hurt them" I would think. And here I was, doing the same damn thing. In the weeks since, he's regained his weight, and went from 7-11 at birth, to 6-11 four days later, and then to 8-10 at two weeks. I am pleased with his weight gain, but still struggle with the pain. It's not as bad as it was, and I think it might be on its way out, but my toes still curl every time he latches on.

And let me make a point to tell you that my husband has been absolutely divine in helping me care for this baby. He has been so comfortable and natural with him since day one. Changing diapers like it's his job. Even the poopie ones. Our child has inherited his fathers flatulence, and he thinks it's hilarious every time. It's hard for me not to laugh when he laughs at his son pooting all the time, because it is rather funny. For now. He loves to give the baths, and he always offers to burp him after I'm done feeding. I usually take over the night time changes, only because of his leg situation. It's just silly for me to sit there and wait for him to put his leg on, get up, change the diaper, and then he gives him back to me so I can feed him. I might as well just do it myself. I say this, but it's still hard to be okay with it at 3am while he looks so warm and cozy under the covers!

So far, Motherhood seems to be me figuring out all these things that people do not tell you! Everything that goes wrong with him I feel personally responsible for. And then I look at him sleeping (on his belly!) next to me (in bed!) so peacefully I have to stop and make sure he's still breathing. So, I figure I can't be doing everything wrong.