It Must Be So Frustrating

Imagine with me for a moment.

You are so eye-droopingly tired. You want nothing more than to relax and drift off into dream land. You are cuddled up in your cozy, comfy bed and you know you should be okay, but your mind races. You can't shut it off. You keep tossing and turning impulsively; it's beyond your control. Your partner keeps telling you to just lay still and that if you're so tired, you should sleep. But you can't.

I think that must be what it's like to be a baby trying to sleep in the midst of a developmental leap. Baby Bird was just so tired, and grumpy, but he just couldn't drop off to sleep. It's been like this since Sunday. First it was his first two teeth cutting, and now it seems like he is putting all his energy into gross motor development toward crawling.

Yes, for me, it's very much frustrating. We don't really sleep train here, so a summary of nap-time is:

Rock rock rock
Baby seems drowsy but eyes pop open
Baby arches back and squirms until Mama gives up

or

Rock rock rock
Baby falls asleep in arms
Put baby down
Baby rolls onto stomach and tries to crawl away

Lather, rinse, repeat.

Sometimes I give up and we go play until I get my patience back.

But today it sunk in. How miserable must it be to be so exhausted but you just can't power down for the snooze you desperately need? Adults with insomnia, you know what I'm talking about here.

So today, I just kept my patience. I empathized with Baby Bird while I rocked and shooshed him gently. His eyes closed and his little body relaxed. I put him down and covered him with his blanket.

I walked out. Put an English Muffin in the toaster and the kettle on to boil.

"WAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!" Bird awakens with a start.

I curse the whole way to the room, breathe a deep breathe to regain my composure and enter.

Repeat the empathy, rocking. Put Bird down, cover with blanket, blow him a kiss.

It stuck. He's napping. Must've been the kiss I blew him.

Sometimes it pays to just be patient.

Irrelevant

I swore it would never, no, it COULD never, become me.

I'm going to say these three words just once, so treasure them. Savour them. Because you're not likely to see them in anything I write for a long, long time.

I. Was. Wrong.

It started slowly. I was in the habit of dressing decently and putting on make up daily. Then, after Bird was born and Keegan went back to work, some days I couldn't manage to do more than quickly dress in whatever I could find and throw my hair in a pony tail. It wasn't every day, though, so I felt safe because I still mostly made the effort.

Then I went from daily showers to once every two days. That was okay.

But this is day three and I'm wearing a head wrap to disguise my hair. And I'm not going to get a chance to shower until K. gets home.

Then I had to stop accessorizing because babies pull on and eat everything. So no more pretty dangly earrings, and no more necklaces, and definitely no more wearing my hair down.

In October, we got rid of cable. No more Canada AM to keep me up to only a day behind on my news or show me the latest viral video. No more Ellen show to keep me somewhat up to date on pop culture. No more re-runs of What Not To Wear.  No more watching our favourite shows the night they air. Heck, I don't even know what shows are even relevant anymore.

So here we are. I, my friends, have become uncool. Unhip. Not "with it". I'm a mom who has no idea what is happening in the world or what adults do for fun anymore. I don't know what's trendy for the winter.

What I DO know is that all of those things have become unimportant to me. One day, when I have a more independent child and I'm back in the working world, I'll probably care again. But right now, what I care about is my home. My family. My little slice of quiet heaven each morning while my son naps. Watching him learn and grow. Taking him to playgroups so he can socialize while Mama talks to other mamas going through the same thing.  I care about my studies. I care about learning and growing as a human. I care about learning to be generous of spirit and with my time. Learning to balance the motherhood side of my life with ability to still be me.

So what if that means I'm not really on top of the 'real world' right now? I'm deeply in love with my life, and indeed with living itself.

And that, my friends, is worth its weight in all those things I have let go.

You Can't Always Get What You Want

I'm struggling with a really big case of "Want It All".

I never imagined it possible that I would want to be a stay at home mother, but here we are. I would give up so much to be at home with Baby Bird past a year, but it would mean selling our current house and giving up our second car (at the very least).

So I thought, that's okay, I can find part-time work and bring in enough for us to maintain our lifestyle. That would keep Bird out of daycare full-time, and it would also give me a bit more adult time outside of the home. Ideally, I'd love to start my business but I'm just not ready.

I told my husband, and he agreed. I pranced around feeling free like the wind and I wanted to tell the whole world. I wanted to shout from the rooftops.

Then it all came crashing down. We started talking about when we should try to have a second baby, and I realized that a second baby means a second maternity leave. And if we are just barely comfortable with me only bringing in a part-time income, then we wouldn't make it at 55% of that during a second maternity leave.

I came to grips with going back to work full-time for roughly a year until a second baby arrives (if we are so blessed). I thought that then I could take my second maternity leave and then do the part-time work thing after that.

Yet another problem popped up and my heart crashed again. With two in daycare, could we afford for me to work only part-time? God knows I don't want to work to pay for daycare.

So at this point, I guess I'll be a working mom. I'm told this is not the end of the world; that children survive and even thrive in daycare.

But, I have this niggling feeling. I didn't realize it until a few months ago, but I did not have children to let someone else raise them for 40 hours a week.  I do not wish to be separated from my heart for 40 hours a week. I want to continue to watch him grow, to participate with him in life. I want to show him the world around him and see the wonder in his eyes. I want to be there when he skins a knee, to kiss him and tell him Mama loves him before each nap. I want to be there through the terrible twos to teach him about his emotions and how they can be safely & appropriately expressed.

I wish I could go back in time and tell Childless Kim that she would feel this way, so we could have avoided lifestyle inflation.  We could have made sure we could live comfortably off one salary.

Now I just feel stuck in a situation there is no way out of, and it's not a good option for me or for Baby Bird. I feel like I am failing him by not figuring this out.

Mamas who work: talk me off the ledge.

God and Baby

Typically, talking or blogging about spiritual matters is not for me. However, this blog is my mommyhood outlet, and mommyhood has wrought some changes upon my belief system. Feel free to tune out if talking about spirituality and the divine is not your jam, but I hope you'll keep an open mind, read, and comment.

B.C. (Before Child), I was not much of a God-knowing woman. My beliefs were all over the place. All I knew for sure is that I believed in some spiritual presence, but I was still prone to bouts of Atheism when that attitude served me. Still to this day, I believe that the only thing that matters to that spiritual presence is that we try our best to be good people, own up to and learn from our mistakes, and love with our whole hearts. For the purpose of this discussion, we'll call the spiritual presence "God", but this does not necessarily refer to the Christian God that I was raised to believe in.

A.C. (After Child), my views have not changed drastically in terms of what I belief, but my depth of belief has. Nothing as good and pure as my son could come from a Godless world. I find myself on much better speaking terms with God since having Baby Bird. To God I turn when I need strength, when I need clarification, patience, or when I'm simply so overwhelmed by gratitude for the gifts life has given me that I need a divine outlet (and Facebook has grown tired of my "I love my boy" posts). I find myself routinely asking God to look out for my loved ones. I feel so fortunate that my deeper understanding of God came from a positive event. It seems far more common that people find God in times of need instead of times of gratitude.

We go to an Anglican church. I have always gone to an Anglican church, although attending church has been a once-a-year type thing over the last decade. Despite my uncertainty in Christian beliefs, I have always turned to an Anglican church when in need of a house of worship. While I'm not sure how much I believe in Jesus, I have, at times in my life, derived great comfort from the lessons of kindness that Christianity seeks to teach. We were married by an Anglican clergyman. We will have our son baptized Anglican. This is my default, although I could derive divine comfort from any kind-hearted religious service in any religion, I think.

I want Baby Bird to have a spiritual belief system to run to when he needs comfort. I've found this is the wonderful thing about God - (S)He is there for you when you need him/her, no matter what. In fact, I know many people who don't spend time thinking about spirituality or God, but are surprised to find themselves appealing to whatever/whoever is out there in Universe listening in their times of need. We all need something to believe in from time to time, even if your spirituality lies in a deep sense of self and not "other".

I want to learn meditation so that I might deepen my connection to the Divine. Often, just spending quiet moments with Baby Bird is enough, but as he grows and becomes busy, those moments will be fleeting and I'll need to learn how to connect through myself rather than him.

Did having children change your belief system? Or perhaps another major life event did? I'd love to hear about your beliefs and how they have evolved. Please be respectful of other commenters and belief systems.

The Baby Bird Sleeps

It's 3:24pm. I'm standing in my son's darkened bedroom, with only a ribbon of brilliant sun light streaming in between curtains drawn. This tiny five-month old child rests on my shoulder, asleep, as I bury my nose in his sweet, natural, baby-scented shoulder. I'm close to tears, moved by the knowledge that these moments are numbered, and one day he will be a Big Kid who doesn't want to spend time in Mama's arms.

A month ago, I fought every nap time and bedtime mentally. I dreaded the chore of putting Baby Bird to sleep. He fought, and fought, and fought against sleep. I couldn't understand it; his eyes would be drooping and he was clearly so exhausted. Then, K. would come along and next thing I knew, Baby Bird would be fast asleep. Worst of all, with the horrendous combination of post-partum depression and anxiety I was battling at its peak, I let myself believe it made me less of a mother.

At some point in the last month, I talked myself into relaxing. I decided that even on the worst days, I would just go with the flow and know in my heart that it would not last forever. That mindset has changed my world. Not every day is awesome and smiles, but every day is manageable and comes equipped with its very own end. Happily, this has translated to nap time. I've truly come to (mostly) love the quiet moments where I sing softly to Baby Bird as he drifts off on my shoulder. His tiny body relaxes into mine as we sway gently back and forth, and I am left to my thoughts about how wonderful my life has truly become since he arrived in it. Because I am relaxed, he can relax.  On the odd occasion where he still fights the sleep, I don't sweat it.

Why I'm a Good Mother

In following my post partum depression post, I wanted to thank you for your amazing feedback and encouragement. It's clear from the comments that post partum depression happens to far more of us than society would have us believe. It's sad, but also a great comfort, to know I'm not alone in my experience.

I have been doing well lately. Baby Bird is having more good days than bad with regard to his reflux, and I'm having more good days than bad as well. Today was a bit of an "off" day, so I decided to refocus my energy on something positive.

Without further ado, I give you the reasons why I am a good mother.

• First and foremost, I love my son beyond what words could express. 
• When Baby Bird goes to bed, despite knowing I will be up with him far too soon, I can't help but miss him. I pour over all his photos and videos while he sleeps peacefully. My arms and my heart ache for him.
• I have fought through the challenges of early breastfeeding, and recently I gave up all dairy products in an effort to solve Baby Bird's woes. I'm now an advocate for breastfeeding and feel strongly about making it work (in my life).
• I would do anything, absolutely anything, to protect him from harm. Do not mess with my child.
• I never give up, even when I am exhausted and run down. I make every effort to put my woes aside and be a happy positive mother. There have been days I've been barely able to wash my hair, but I can still be what he needs.
• I am seeking help for my PPD, and trying my best to practice good self-care. I'm doing it equally for myself and for Baby Bird - I'll be a better mother when I am happy.
• I turn into a Mama Bear when I feel I need to protect my son (typically, this is from pushy advice that I know isn't right for our family). I never in my life display a temper toward others, except when I am acting as a mother.
• My baby smiles at me whenever I walk into the room. He reaches for me when he is tired or sad or hungry. He stares at me when others hold him.

What are the things that remind you that you're a good parent? And when have you had to make an effort to remember that you're a good parent?

Postpartum Depression

Some might say I'm making a huge mistake by writing this post and putting it out on the internet for the world to see. What if employers see this and it limits my career opportunities, they might say. I don't want any part of an employer who would hold this against me - and working in the HR industry, I certainly know it can happen.

I have post-partum depression. There. I said it. I've read that as many as 1 in 8 new mothers experiences a post partum mood disorder, so why do so many still live in darkness, afraid to get the help they need?

I knew PPD was a real risk for me going into pregnancy, as there is one particular risk factor I had to tick off. After fighting off the normal baby blues a few weeks after giving birth, I made my way across the amazing and occasionally rocky shores of motherhood fairly easily. Sure, it wasn't always easy, and not every day was good, but I was by no means experiencing any depression or mood disorder.  None the less, I continued to evaluate myself regularly and have K. keep a watchful eye out for the signs.

Once I hit the three-month mark, things got a lot easier and I began feeling confident that PPD was not an issue for me. I regret ever letting that thought pass through my mind. Not even two weeks later, Baby Bird began struggling with acid reflux, and K. began working 11-12 hour days, 6 days a week. The poor child screamed and fussed for hours each day. I cried several times a day for two solid weeks.  The entire time, a little flag raised itself in the back of my mind, alerting me that if PPD was going to set in, this would be an opportune time to take advantage of my exhaustion and stress. Then, things got a little better in the final week of K.'s three-week crazy work schedule - Baby Bird was doing better, and I felt much better able to cope once I got a bit of rest - and then they got much worse again.

This past week, I began to realize that even when I wasn't actively feeling sad or depressed (I still feel happy often enough), I am feeling completely overwhelmed by things that just shouldn't be overwhelming. Every little fuss of Baby Bird's would trigger an anxious sinking feeling in my stomach. I wasn't able to enjoy the activities of daily living, and I could never think of anything I might enjoy doing when I got an opportunity for "me-time". I would just go wander around the mall because I didn't know where else to go. I didn't want to go for a walk by myself because I was fairly certain I would end up walking down the sidewalk sobbing. Finally, today I noticed that I was having trouble finding the motivation to pick up the shampoo bottle in my shower and actually go through the motions of washing my hair. Finding something to eat in the kitchen was going to be a big ordeal. I just wanted to sit there and have someone else make all my decisions for me, because even deciding if I wanted toast (Yes or No) was too much to ask.

Not every day feels like that, but having more than one of these days "once in a while" was a big sign to me that I needed some help.  Happily, I recognized the signs and symptoms of postpartum depression well before they escalated to thoughts of harming myself or Baby Bird. I was still able to take care of him safely and well, but I preferred to not have to do it alone, and it took every ounce of energy I had in my body to do so.

My biggest fear was having meds pushed on me. This is completely hypocritical of me - I have a degree in psychology and I have always recognized that mental illness is a biochemical problem that sometimes needs medical intervention. However, I am breastfeeding, and no matter how many studies say certain meds are safe for breastfeeding, I'll never completely buy into it. I'm at my heart a complete naturalist, and I don't want my innocent boy getting any part of an anti-depressant. Long-term studies on the safety of such medications through breast milk have not yet been conducted.

So far, I have received a referral for therapy, which I'll start on August 22nd. The doctor did not want to go the meds route at this point (which is good, because I would have fought him on it until therapy failed, I was screened for other conditions, and a psychiatrist did a complete psych screening).

I really had my reservations about posting all this, however, I want to help overcome the stigma that surrounds mental illness, and I want to raise awareness that this really can (and does) happen to anyone. Do yourself a favour and, if you are expecting, take a close look at the signs/symptoms of PPD and other mood disorders. Tell someone you trust to keep an eye on you after the baby is born. And if you are a new mother thinking that this all sounds a little too familiar, please tell somebody you trust and talk to your doctor. I don't have to feel like this, and neither do you. PPD is temporary and treatable.

Original source: unknown. Here simply because it makes me smile.

On Mommy Gut

Emotional, sensitive, empathetic, and intuitive are all words that describe me. I feel everything so deeply. Throughout my life, I've been tempted to think of these qualities as "weak" or "inferior", and even told to toughen up from time to time.  Trouble is, each time I've made decisions while ignoring my heart's song, I've ended up in over my head in bad situations. A prime example was choosing a university program after being pushed into thinking a science degree was the only way to get ahead, and then essentially flunking out after my first year. Over the years that followed, I have learned (slowly, and sometimes painfully) that being emotional and sensitive is not necessarily a weakness. In fact, I would say that my ability to purge my unhappiness frequently by expressing it is healthy - I do not bottle up my feelings, and after a few minutes or even a day of feeling blue, I often bounce back to my better-adjusted self.

I parent by feeling things out in my heart and gut. I read everything I can get my hands on, and I ask for advice, but ultimately my heart and my gut makes the end decisions. I put faith into my mommy-gut that it will guide me to making the decision that is ultimately correct for Baby Bird, K., and I. The only decisions I regret making to-date are the ones where my mind said one thing, my gut said another, and I sided with my mind.

source

As my mother once said, after we butted heads briefly on differing philosophies, "The only people you need to make happy are [Baby Bird], K., and yourself. Screw what everyone else thinks."

People-pleasing is a tendency of mine which causes me a great deal of anxiety when the action required to please a person would also require me to ignore my intuition. At no point has this been more evident than since I became a parent. Trouble is, some days it seems like everyone tries to tell you how you need to raise your child, and people pleasers can get caught up in that haze of conflicting advice so easily. Still other days, I make assumptions about what others close to me expect of me that aren't even valid - often these people do not truly judge me for my parenting decisions, regardless of whether those decisions are congruent with their own beliefs or not.

I often think about how strong "Mommy Gut", or a mother's intuition, really is. Having been one to follow my gut feelings throughout my life, I am STILL blown away by how clearly a mother's intuition will speak to her. I don't have to sort through a confusing array of thoughts and feelings to find my answer - it is right there telling me in no uncertain terms what to do.

I believe that all we can ever do as parents is trust ourselves to decide what is best for our children. That's not to say there is never a season for asking advice or seeking facts, just that your parental instinct will ultimately guide you to do what is best for you and your child. And if what you feel and ultimately decide is right for your children isn't congruent with popular opinion, or what other people think you should do, screw 'em (to put it somewhat less eloquently than the rest of my post).

What Having a Baby Taught Me About Risk Taking

I was adamant that I would be a terrible mother. I had no experience with babies, no motherly instinct or inclination, and considered myself to be terribly selfish. I spent my pregnancy grieving the life I was leaving behind, and terrified of the role I was about to take on. I felt that bringing a child into this world was a huge risk, and one I was terrified to be taking.

When the baby came one glorious day in March, my entire world lit up. Motherhood is nothing if not demanding, but pays dividends. The risk I took to bring Baby Bird into the world was more than worth it. Even if it hadn't quite worked out perfectly (if Baby Bird had been born with an illness or disability), I certainly could never have regretted bringing him into the world.

The best risk-reward scenario I ever took

It seems that I get ideas of what I might want to do in life from time to time, and that when they don't happen, it's almost certainly because I am too scared to take the risk. This ranges from the simple:

"I would like to get my nose pierced, but no, I can't (can I?)"

..to the difficult:

"I would like to start my own business" (This is terrifying on so many levels).

So what is it, exactly, that being a mother has taught me about taking risks?

• Taking risks is hard. Once you take the plunge, it can take a lot of time, loving care, and hard work.
• If you put all of yourself into an endeavour, and you listen to that inner voice, you will not be disappointed in yourself.
• The outcome can be wonderful and fulfilling beyond your wildest hopes and dreams

I still have to remind myself nearly constantly that, without risk, there can be little reward.

• I'm taking a risk and returning to ballet classes. This is a low risk, but I'm afraid that I'll be the most out of shape and the largest person in the class. The plus is that I've been in the class before, I know how much I love it, and I know how little it matters what size/shape I am. Added bonus: I get to play the "I recently had a baby" card.
• I'm taking a risk and starting a full-time college program in September. The risks are that it will take some financial finagling to make it work (already done), and that once graduated, I'll have trouble finding work in this field to gain experience. The payoff is that I will one step closer to doing something I am passionate about for a living, and one step closer to being able to own my own business.
• I'm taking a risk by planning to be a business owner in the not-so-distant future. This is a high-risk endeavour, financially and personally. The payoff will be autonomy, doing something I am passionate about, and having a flexible working arrangement. 

Why not adapt this thinking to other situations to which we don't often attribute any degree of "risk"?

• Living a healthy lifestyle - I put this on hold so often that I've recently come to understand I must interpret some kind of risk, or else why would I let myself down so often? Risk - failing, or even scarier, SUCCEEDING. Sometimes we fear success simply because it means the unknown. This was the case with motherhood for me. I was terrified of losing my old status quo.
• Living more generously - this is risky because there is a tendency to believe that I will give, give, give and never reap any reward. However, I have only to look at the wonderful people in my life - who are generous, kind, and always there for me - to know that I am already receiving the payback. 

Tell me about the biggest risk you've taken and how it worked out for you. What did you learn from taking risks in your life?

Shockwaves

Anyone who has ever had a baby knows it sends shockwaves through your well-manicured life. You have this adorable little life set up for yourself - perhaps with a spouse and a little homestead (such as my self), and then along comes Baby changing everything (for the better).

I knew the shockwaves were coming. I knew nothing of babies before having my own, but I'd gleaned that (a) it ain't easy (b) they cry (c) your body will be forever changed and (d) you'll never sleep again.

The First Set of Shockwaves

I was a ridiculous bucket of nerves the whole way through my pregnancy. First off, we both decided to try and conceived Baby Bird in the same weekend. I did not expect that. In my well-intentioned mind, I *knew* it would take us at least three months to get pregnant. HA! So I spent the summer pregnant after having convinced myself that I'd have the summer to do all these cool last-summer-as-a-couple things (white-water rafting, anyone?).  Second, I had myself convinced that I'd have no maternal instinct, that I would definitely not be able to stand breastfeeding thereby disappointing my husband and in-laws. and that I'd definitely get postpartum depression. I thought there was no way I was going to bond with my child as soon as he was born and that any possible motherly deficiency would plaque me. I was convinced I'd struggle constantly.

The Second Set of Shockwaves

Life, changed forever by new life.

As soon as that Baby Bird was born, and as soon as I heard him cry, my heart grew infinite sizes. I love him so much I find myself tearing up on the regular. All the maternal instinct I'd considered myself devoid of came rushing in. All of my pre-conceived notions were crushed.

I surprise myself every day with how much of a grassroots Mama I am. I have become something of an advocate for breastfeeding, after spending my pregnancy convinced I wouldn't want to do it. I wear my baby in a ring-sling. I want nothing less than the best for Baby Bird.

There's another side to this shockwave business, too, though. My life has been upended - inostenibly for the better - but things don't feel normal just yet. I'm still acclimating to life with a tiny interloper, and it's not always rainbows and lollipops. As selfish as I spent the majority of my life being, it takes some time not to learn to put my son's needs before mine (that's automatic), but to learn how to put his needs before mine without mourning the loss of selfishness and still treating myself like I count. And where does K. fit into all of this? Well, I'm still learning how to be more than just Mama. I probably haven't been an excellent wife, and I'm going to have to take stock and make this a priority.

But, then, it's all going to be a learning curve, isn't it? I have a sneaking suspicious there is no 'normal' from here on out - just 'normal for now'.