Updates from the road.

I've officially been a mom now for ONE WHOLE YEAR. While I'm not yet ready to slip on some mom jeans and cut my hair into a Dorothy Hamill ice-twirling bowl cut, I do feel ready to reflect on what the experience has been like for me.

Note the words: FOR ME.

My experience obviously won't be the same as everyone else's. I sincerely hope you didn't need me to tell you that.

Labor and Delivery

Guess what? It hurts. Like a sonofabitch. (I used bad language because that's how bad it hurts.) Contractions aren't just shortened, combined words with apostrophes replacing letters you've left out. No sir. They are also your uterus' attempt to incapacitate you as if the very Devil himself is squeezing your insides. A child who presents "sunny side up" (face up instead of face down) will bang the back of her head on your tailbone as you push making it seem as if it's truly about to snap.

Guess what else? As soon as the child finally exits your body and lands in this bright beautiful world, the pain stops. No lingering pain like when you stub your toe. It's just, "ahhh, better."

And then you might pass out. Twice.

Also, it's fun to find out if it's a boy or girl in the old-fashioned way. I highly recommend it.

Month 1

"Absolutely shattered." That's how I described how I felt those first weeks to a friend. It was--hands down, the polls are closed and the results are in--the hardest month of my life. I was constantly buzzing with anxiety and stress. I was totally in love with my child while at the same time thinking, "Why did I think I wanted a baby? Why did I think this was a good idea? I don't think I'm ready for this! Am I a horrible mother for thinking this? I don't remember how to find time to eat or drink water!" Slight possibility I had some mild postnatal depression, aka Baby Blues. I prayed all the time for many things, including sleep. Especially sleep. Okay, basically I just prayed for sleep.

There was also a deep fear of trimming those tiny, razor-sharp fingernails. "They're so tiny! Aw, and so cute! OMG I MIGHT CUT HER AND SHE'LL BLEED AND I'LL DIE. I'LL JUST DIE."

Patrick became the infant manicurist.

Month 2

We decided to put her in her own room when she turned a month. Funny thing, that. We all started sleeping a little better when I stopped waking up every time she turned her head and I HEARD A NOISE!--oh, just her head rubbing against the sheet for 0.5 seconds when she moved in her sleep. The day she turned 7 weeks old, she started sleeping through the night. That night ranked up there with my wedding as one of the best days of my life. High fives were given at 5am when we realized neither of us had gotten up with her, then we rolled back over and fell back asleep with big smiles on our faces.

I also came out of the fog this month and began functioning at a level that enabled me to get dressed and sometimes put on makeup or fix my hair (but rarely hair AND makeup in the same day). I also realized I wasn't a natural homemaker. (Perhaps it's more accurate to say that it was confirmed that I'm not. It wasn't a big secret before I had a kid that I hate housework.) I was busy tending to/playing with/holding/feeding the baby, so, ya know, I didn't do much else. "Oh, look! She's napping! Finally, a few minutes to watch some Netflix."

She was clean and fed and the house was cluttered, but not gross (no old food sitting out or gross bathrooms). It felt like a win to me.

Month 3

Just when I come to grips with the fact that I'm not a horrible mom and start really enjoying my little punkin is when I realize, "Aw, dang. Paychecks."

So I did my best to nap and snuggle and play and watch Netflix and enjoy my last month home. (I did a good job of it.)

Months 4-12

Going back to work was difficult, but honestly, not that hard. The anticipation of it was worse than the actual event. And if I'm being really honest, I'm glad I'm a working mom. I used to get a pang of guilt when my stay-at-home-parent friends say how blessed they are, how it's so worth it, or how nothing would be worth "missing out on these moments," etc. I translated these innocuous statements as judgements against me. 

"I made the choice to BE WITH MY CHILDREN. Ergo, you chose to NOT be with yours. You think something is worth more than time with your child. Tisk, tisk." But that's silly. They don't give two rats about what I do; they're just really happy to be home.  Well, I'm really happy to be at work. It's best for our finances and, I think, best for me. 

"But what about your baby? What about what's best for her?"

Oh, her? I forgot all about her needs and feelings!

Just kidding.

She loves daycare. She loves being in a room full of people. She gets bored and fussy if she has too much alone time. They have good toys there. And sweet teachers. And every afternoon when I pick her up and she gives me a big smile and flaps her little arms with excitement.

If we ever become big-time ballers, then yeah, I'll stay home in a New York minute. But, you know, bills and stuff. 

Let's see... other updates from the road

• I LOVE HER SO MUCH I WANT TO HUG HER UNTIL SHE MELTS INTO MY BODY. But only if I can do it without hurting her.

• I don't refer to myself as mommy. I'm Mama.

• Lizzie has come around and will actually walk within arms-reach of Sutton. That's the equivalent, in human terms, of Lizzie having personally given Sutton the Kennedy Center Honors, complete with a performance honoring her lifetime achievements. (It's a big deal, in other words.)

• Baby clothes are cute and will make you spend all your $$$ if you aren't careful.

• Putting a hair bow on her elevates her cuteness into something that I almost can't handle.

• She has a fantastic head of hair, and I'm so glad about that.

• Taking care of a baby is not easy. Especially not to a naturally lazy person like me. However, I like her to be fed and bathed and happy and I love her with a deep intensity, so I buck up and do it (if Patrick hasn't already, that is).

• "Sleeping in" is 7:15am. "Staying up late" is 10 or 11pm.

• These tooties are super adorable, and get stinky in shoes if worn with no socks. I'll kiss 'em anyway.

Will I go through labor and delivery and a potential month of angst again ever? Yeah. Because God makes us forget. I'm already like, "Oh, it was hard, but I mean... it wasn't THAT bad. Labor doesn't last forever, right? And that first month was hard, but it's only a month!"

God grants us the necessary amnesia so that we will have more than one kid each.

Mom jeans and baby snuggles to you and yours,
xo