Recently, one of my best friends had her first child. When I sent her a congratulatory text, I also told her I was thinking of her because this was, in fact, a very stressful and emotional time. She responded saying she had no idea it was like this and she was adding new moms to her daily prayer list.
She's right. When you think of having babies, you think of the blissful pictures of sweetly sleeping babies all wrapped up like little burritos. You think of the happiness Moms and Dads must be feeling as they finally get to see the little one they've dreamed about for 10 mths.
But the reality involves so much more. Again, I speak from my own experience only, but the first few months of Emerson's life were probably some of the hardest in my life. I cried more in that time than I have in my entire life. This was not just the hormones, but a result of the fact that I was sleeping about 2 hours at a time. And when I showered, if I was home alone, I was freaking out the entire time that my helpless little baby was out in the house all alone (because God knows what I thought could happen to her!). All rational thought is out the window though! I didn't know why she was crying or why she wouldn't sleep when I put her down or how in the world I was supposed to accomplish anything more than just staring at her all day!
My mom saved me. She would come to my house during her lunch break, bring me food, and hold Emerson while I ate. Then she'd get me to put a load of clothes in the wash. Make my bed. Sweep up some cat hair. Small little chores that, in my mind, were impossible to do while watching this newborn. She'd even convince me to leave Emerson in one room while I - gasp! - went into another. Milestones, I assure you.
Before long, I was figuring it out. I relaxed. My hormones returned to normal. I slept a slight bit more.
But being a new mom is no joke. They are a new addition to my prayer list as well.
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Nursing: 13 mths later
When Emerson was first born, I wrote a post about the difficulties of nursing. I described the pains and tears while admitting, still, it was worth it.
Well, here I am, 13 mths later, and Emerson and I still nurse twice a day. I have decided it is time for us to quit, and my reaction to that decision made me realize how much my impression of nursing has changed in the past year.
As I listened to my sister giving me advice on how to help Emerson quit nursing, I found myself getting teary-eyed. She told me I may not be able to join Jesse in putting Emerson to sleep for a few days until she adjusts and that broke my heart. Our nighttime routine (which everyone tells you to establish, and trust me, that is no joke!) consists of: we change her diaper and clothes downstairs, I carry her up and nurse her, then Jesse and I both read to her, then she hugs us both, Jesse leaves, and I rock her for awhile. I used to rock her to sleep, but now we just talk and play until I put her in her crib, tell her I love her, hand her Dolly, and walk out. It is no doubt the best part of my day. There can't be a better way to wind down and destress than laughing as your daughter "beeps" your nose or plays with your eyebrows or practices saying "nigh nigh" and "mama." I understand why I must miss this routine if I want to wean her, but it breaks my heart, even if it's just for a few days.
I guess I've derailed from my original subject of nursing, but really, it all connects. Nursing is part of that sweet nightly routine. And I will honestly miss it.
Once Emerson and I "figured it out," nursing quickly became a bonding time for us. When we recently took Emerson on vacation, and she woke up in the middle of the night confused and scared, I nursed her to comfort her. Every time she has gotten shots, I've nursed her immediately afterwards to help soothe the pain. While nursing, I've taught her how to give a high-five, I've cut her fingernails, I've played with her hair, and bonded with her in a way that no other person possibly could.
Nursing is a sacrifice. In the past 13 mths, I have been on "lockdown," never being able to leave my house around the hour of 7 pm or be away from home first thing in the morning. I've had to turn down my husband's awards ceremony, where he received copious amount of journalism awards, a night out with my best friend, and several nights out with friends. I've missed out on professional opportunities and had to take Emerson with me anytime I had to spend the night out of town.
But I wouldn't trade any of it. And I say that with no hesitation. Most of those things can be repeated - the bonding with Emerson never can.
Well, here I am, 13 mths later, and Emerson and I still nurse twice a day. I have decided it is time for us to quit, and my reaction to that decision made me realize how much my impression of nursing has changed in the past year.
As I listened to my sister giving me advice on how to help Emerson quit nursing, I found myself getting teary-eyed. She told me I may not be able to join Jesse in putting Emerson to sleep for a few days until she adjusts and that broke my heart. Our nighttime routine (which everyone tells you to establish, and trust me, that is no joke!) consists of: we change her diaper and clothes downstairs, I carry her up and nurse her, then Jesse and I both read to her, then she hugs us both, Jesse leaves, and I rock her for awhile. I used to rock her to sleep, but now we just talk and play until I put her in her crib, tell her I love her, hand her Dolly, and walk out. It is no doubt the best part of my day. There can't be a better way to wind down and destress than laughing as your daughter "beeps" your nose or plays with your eyebrows or practices saying "nigh nigh" and "mama." I understand why I must miss this routine if I want to wean her, but it breaks my heart, even if it's just for a few days.
I guess I've derailed from my original subject of nursing, but really, it all connects. Nursing is part of that sweet nightly routine. And I will honestly miss it.
Once Emerson and I "figured it out," nursing quickly became a bonding time for us. When we recently took Emerson on vacation, and she woke up in the middle of the night confused and scared, I nursed her to comfort her. Every time she has gotten shots, I've nursed her immediately afterwards to help soothe the pain. While nursing, I've taught her how to give a high-five, I've cut her fingernails, I've played with her hair, and bonded with her in a way that no other person possibly could.
Nursing is a sacrifice. In the past 13 mths, I have been on "lockdown," never being able to leave my house around the hour of 7 pm or be away from home first thing in the morning. I've had to turn down my husband's awards ceremony, where he received copious amount of journalism awards, a night out with my best friend, and several nights out with friends. I've missed out on professional opportunities and had to take Emerson with me anytime I had to spend the night out of town.
But I wouldn't trade any of it. And I say that with no hesitation. Most of those things can be repeated - the bonding with Emerson never can.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
My Cool Meter
Since becoming a mom, my points on the cool-o-meter have significantly plummeted (and here I thought they didn't have much room to fall...). Last Tuesday perfectly illustrates this.
A few weeks ago, my students started a tosh.o trend of "High Fashion Tuesdays." They come to school dressed to impress. I decided to join them last week.
I had plans. Big plans. My plans included a dress, stilettos, an updo, and fancy accessories. I must've temporarily forgotten what my mornings usually consist of - me, trying to get ready while Emerson is either tugging at my clothes crying to be held or making a mad dash for the steps so she can climb them. I managed to get dressed and put on the shoes - the rest dropped down the priority list.
Then, Jesse looked at me. He said, "I don't think I've seen you dress up like that in a long time." Ouch.
Then, Emerson spits up a little and it lands on my dress. I wipe it off with a Kleenex, and think, eh, good enough. ... because high fashion models wear baby spit up on their clothes, right?
Finally, it's time to leave and as I head out the door, carrying my 20+ lb baby in her 20+ lb carseat, while wearing my stilettos, I say silent prayers that I don't break a leg. And I come close.
This is just one example - one little morning of my many days and nights - that shows how "uncool" - or, in this case, how unfashionable - motherhood has made me. Add to that the number of weekends I spend falling asleep on the couch by 9 pm and the number of statuses, tweets, blogs and pictures that I post about Emerson and being a mommy and all that cuddly stuff, and yeah, I'm pretty much the uncoolest person I know.
But I'm okay with it. I've never really been too worried about being cool anyway. :)
A few weeks ago, my students started a tosh.o trend of "High Fashion Tuesdays." They come to school dressed to impress. I decided to join them last week.
I had plans. Big plans. My plans included a dress, stilettos, an updo, and fancy accessories. I must've temporarily forgotten what my mornings usually consist of - me, trying to get ready while Emerson is either tugging at my clothes crying to be held or making a mad dash for the steps so she can climb them. I managed to get dressed and put on the shoes - the rest dropped down the priority list.
Then, Jesse looked at me. He said, "I don't think I've seen you dress up like that in a long time." Ouch.
Then, Emerson spits up a little and it lands on my dress. I wipe it off with a Kleenex, and think, eh, good enough. ... because high fashion models wear baby spit up on their clothes, right?
Finally, it's time to leave and as I head out the door, carrying my 20+ lb baby in her 20+ lb carseat, while wearing my stilettos, I say silent prayers that I don't break a leg. And I come close.
This is just one example - one little morning of my many days and nights - that shows how "uncool" - or, in this case, how unfashionable - motherhood has made me. Add to that the number of weekends I spend falling asleep on the couch by 9 pm and the number of statuses, tweets, blogs and pictures that I post about Emerson and being a mommy and all that cuddly stuff, and yeah, I'm pretty much the uncoolest person I know.
But I'm okay with it. I've never really been too worried about being cool anyway. :)
Sunday, March 4, 2012
#HonestTweet
If the following post were on twitter, it would not only be way above the character limit, but it would also be accompanied with the hashtag #HonestTweet. And maybe #Sappy. So bear with me.
My mom and I are close. Always have been. As a matter of fact, when I was 12 years old, I cried to my mother that I didn't want to turn 13 because I thought teenagers automatically started smarting off to their mothers, and I didn't want to do that. I have grown up confident that my mother loves me and would do anything for me.
And yet, it was not until I had Emerson that I realized the extent of that love. As Jesse said when Emerson was a newborn - there should be a different word for the love you feel for your child. It definitely surpasses what I feel towards anyone, even Jesse. Or my own mother. It is a love that, at times, brings tears to my eyes for no reason. It is a love that makes it okay for me get poop on my thumbnail, spit-up on my new sweater and tangles in my hair. It is a love that keeps me home to put my baby to bed instead of going to a regional championship basketball game or my husband's awards dinner. It is a love that makes me hate Sunday nights, cry at the end of extended holidays, and rush out the school door at 3:30 pm.
I think about this sometimes when I look at my high school students. I hear them complain about their parents or retelling a story where they smarted off to them. I want to shake them and say, You don't even realize!! Sometimes I do. Well, I don't actually shake them, but I do tell them to remember that, one time, many years ago, their parents oohed and ahhed and gushed over them the way I do Emerson. So go easy on 'em. (Hopefully someone will say the same to Emerson one day when she's fussing about her mama).
I don't have time for much blogging these days. If I'm not grading papers or writing lesson plans, I'm probably either chasing Emerson around the house or collapsing in bed.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
My mom and I are close. Always have been. As a matter of fact, when I was 12 years old, I cried to my mother that I didn't want to turn 13 because I thought teenagers automatically started smarting off to their mothers, and I didn't want to do that. I have grown up confident that my mother loves me and would do anything for me.
And yet, it was not until I had Emerson that I realized the extent of that love. As Jesse said when Emerson was a newborn - there should be a different word for the love you feel for your child. It definitely surpasses what I feel towards anyone, even Jesse. Or my own mother. It is a love that, at times, brings tears to my eyes for no reason. It is a love that makes it okay for me get poop on my thumbnail, spit-up on my new sweater and tangles in my hair. It is a love that keeps me home to put my baby to bed instead of going to a regional championship basketball game or my husband's awards dinner. It is a love that makes me hate Sunday nights, cry at the end of extended holidays, and rush out the school door at 3:30 pm.
I think about this sometimes when I look at my high school students. I hear them complain about their parents or retelling a story where they smarted off to them. I want to shake them and say, You don't even realize!! Sometimes I do. Well, I don't actually shake them, but I do tell them to remember that, one time, many years ago, their parents oohed and ahhed and gushed over them the way I do Emerson. So go easy on 'em. (Hopefully someone will say the same to Emerson one day when she's fussing about her mama).
I don't have time for much blogging these days. If I'm not grading papers or writing lesson plans, I'm probably either chasing Emerson around the house or collapsing in bed.
And I wouldn't have it any other way.
Wednesday, December 28, 2011
Mama Knows Best
When Emerson was first born, everyone, with the best of intentions, shared their wisdom and guidance. Don't hold her too long, they said. Don't let her fall asleep nursing, they said. Don't rock her to sleep, they said. Let her cry it out, they said. Whatever you do, don't hold her while she sleeps or put her in your bed, they said.
Well... Jesse and I ignored every single scrap of that advice. And that is why we have an eight month old who sleeps in our bed, wakes up every 2-3 hours to nurse, and sometimes goes for 2 hour stretches in the middle of the night where she won't sleep.
So over this Christmas break, I decided to fix this problem. I would take the necessary steps to help my child - and Jesse and me -- sleep better.
I wanted to avoid the "cry it out" method. It seemed cruel (and some experts claim it is damaging to their sense of trust). So I got advice from Facebook, books, magazines and peers. Everyone had a different story. Some people swear by the cry it out method, saying that in 3 days, your baby will sleep through the night. Some people say to walk in, touch your baby and soothe her, to calm her fears but then walk away. Some people say to hold her until she stops crying but put her down the second she stops.
Here's what I say: do what you, as your baby's Mama, knows best. I did. And after 24 hours, I think it's working.
I knew that if Emerson saw me or Jesse when we were trying to get her to sleep on her own, it would backfire and anger her. I also knew that she fought sleep even if we were cuddling her and rocking her so it wasn't a matter of feeling unloved or deserted. So it was time - I had to let her cry.
And I did. I am, currently actually. And last night, she slept in her crib all night and never once woke up to nurse. When I walk in to get her, she wakes up peacefully and smiles at me. My baby knows I love her and she knows I'm here. She also is finally getting appropriate sleep.
I've accomplished many things in my life but THAT has to be the best feeling of accomplishment I've ever had.
Now let's see how tonight goes...
Well... Jesse and I ignored every single scrap of that advice. And that is why we have an eight month old who sleeps in our bed, wakes up every 2-3 hours to nurse, and sometimes goes for 2 hour stretches in the middle of the night where she won't sleep.
So over this Christmas break, I decided to fix this problem. I would take the necessary steps to help my child - and Jesse and me -- sleep better.
I wanted to avoid the "cry it out" method. It seemed cruel (and some experts claim it is damaging to their sense of trust). So I got advice from Facebook, books, magazines and peers. Everyone had a different story. Some people swear by the cry it out method, saying that in 3 days, your baby will sleep through the night. Some people say to walk in, touch your baby and soothe her, to calm her fears but then walk away. Some people say to hold her until she stops crying but put her down the second she stops.
Here's what I say: do what you, as your baby's Mama, knows best. I did. And after 24 hours, I think it's working.
I knew that if Emerson saw me or Jesse when we were trying to get her to sleep on her own, it would backfire and anger her. I also knew that she fought sleep even if we were cuddling her and rocking her so it wasn't a matter of feeling unloved or deserted. So it was time - I had to let her cry.
And I did. I am, currently actually. And last night, she slept in her crib all night and never once woke up to nurse. When I walk in to get her, she wakes up peacefully and smiles at me. My baby knows I love her and she knows I'm here. She also is finally getting appropriate sleep.
I've accomplished many things in my life but THAT has to be the best feeling of accomplishment I've ever had.
Now let's see how tonight goes...
Monday, July 25, 2011
Children's Books
Research or statistics or the all-knowing "they" claim that you should read to your babies starting when they are newborns. Of course, I want Emerson to be an avid reader so I tried it from day one (even though she seemed entirely oblivious). However, as I read to her from my baby book collection, I noticed two things: there were very few that focused on Daddy and baby and - more importantly - there were very few that were actually well-written. It bugged me. As an English teacher and wannabe writer, it really bugged me. Especially Goodnight Moon. I know, I know, it's like every child's favorite, but I'm sorry, I don't get it. The the creepy old lady in the corner saying hush? Saying good night to a bowl full of mush? Really? How did this book get so popular?
After fussing about the books, I realized, I had a solution - write one myself! And it just so happened that Father's Day was around the corner. So... I wrote a book. A book specially made for Jesse to read to Emerson. I used Shutterfly to put corresponding pictures to each page and voila! my first children's book was born (yes, first... the bug has now bitten). And now, I thought I'd share my "book" with you, blog readers.
Here are the words to the first book I've ever written. Enjoy!
A little boy named Jesse
Who had lots of toys,
Loved to ride a tractor,
Like lots of little boys
He'd climb upon the high seat
And snuggle close to his dad.
Enjoying the sun and the ride,
He loved the fun that he had.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
When Jesse grew a little bit,
He went away to school.
There he found a camera,
Which he thought was really cool.
He learned how to take beautiful pictures
From working hard in his classes.
He grew into a talented artist
And he knew he'd found his passion.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
Although Jesse loved his family,
He dreamed of moving away.
He wanted to live in Florida
Where the sun shined every day.
So Jesse took his camera
And moved south near the beach
The sun, the water, the friends,
He fell in love with each.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
But after awhile, Jesse started
To miss a girl back home.
He followed his heart, moved back,
And made that girl his own.
He gave her a diamond ring
And took her for his wife.
They bought a new home
And started a beautiful life.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
Two years later, Jesse and his wife
Had a little baby girl.
On a Good Friday in April,
She came into the world.
It took only one glance, one second
For Jesse to fall in love.
He held her in his arms
And thanked God above.
He looked into her blue eyes,
Played with her fingers, toes, and ears.
He slept with her curled on his chest
And helped soothe away her tears.
And, though he thought he'd loved
All those things before,
When he looked at his daughter Emerson,
He KNEW he'd never love anything more.
After fussing about the books, I realized, I had a solution - write one myself! And it just so happened that Father's Day was around the corner. So... I wrote a book. A book specially made for Jesse to read to Emerson. I used Shutterfly to put corresponding pictures to each page and voila! my first children's book was born (yes, first... the bug has now bitten). And now, I thought I'd share my "book" with you, blog readers.
Here are the words to the first book I've ever written. Enjoy!
A little boy named Jesse
Who had lots of toys,
Loved to ride a tractor,
Like lots of little boys
He'd climb upon the high seat
And snuggle close to his dad.
Enjoying the sun and the ride,
He loved the fun that he had.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
When Jesse grew a little bit,
He went away to school.
There he found a camera,
Which he thought was really cool.
He learned how to take beautiful pictures
From working hard in his classes.
He grew into a talented artist
And he knew he'd found his passion.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
Although Jesse loved his family,
He dreamed of moving away.
He wanted to live in Florida
Where the sun shined every day.
So Jesse took his camera
And moved south near the beach
The sun, the water, the friends,
He fell in love with each.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
But after awhile, Jesse started
To miss a girl back home.
He followed his heart, moved back,
And made that girl his own.
He gave her a diamond ring
And took her for his wife.
They bought a new home
And started a beautiful life.
And he thought he'd never love anything more.
Two years later, Jesse and his wife
Had a little baby girl.
On a Good Friday in April,
She came into the world.
It took only one glance, one second
For Jesse to fall in love.
He held her in his arms
And thanked God above.
He looked into her blue eyes,
Played with her fingers, toes, and ears.
He slept with her curled on his chest
And helped soothe away her tears.
And, though he thought he'd loved
All those things before,
When he looked at his daughter Emerson,
He KNEW he'd never love anything more.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Random Thoughts
There are several mini topics I've had on my mind lately so here's a random topic post with mini headlines. :)
She Looks Like... I posted earlier about old wives tales regarding the sex of the baby. Every other day of my pregnancy, someone would guess a different sex based on a different reason (for the record - the Chinese calendar was right, the pencil test was wrong). It made me laugh because people were so convinced by their own reasonings - even though the person right beside them had a different reason to guess a different sex. Well, the latest version of that is when people try to determine who Emerson looks like. At this point, I think Emerson has been compared to every living relative - and even a few who are no longer with us - that she has. I love it though. People still do that to me - if I meet a childhood friend of my mom's, she will immediately tell me how much I look like Mom. A day later, I could meet a childhood friend of my dad's, and he will proceed to proclaim his surprise at how much I look like Dad. I tell people that Emerson doesn't look like anyone...but Emerson. :)
Three months... Immediately after I gave birth, before being dismissed to go home, I had a final visit from both my doctor and my pediatrician. They gave me the same exact advice: give it three months. My doctor said I'd feel like a normal human again in three months. When we asked the pediatrician about different concerns we had, he always said she'd grow out of it in three months. Three months. It sounds like a long time (and felt like it at times!) - but here we are, two months and two weeks later and I have to admit, they were right. Emerson is already a totally different baby, and Mommy and Daddy are normal humans again! Everyone is sleeping better and smiling more! It's amazing how different it is!
Back to Work... I have to preface this mini-post by admitting that I've been incredibly lucky. I've had a nice long maternity leave with Emerson, since it fell right at the end of school. I had her exactly six weeks before school let out, so I had that time plus the entire month of June. But today was my last day to be home with her. I teach a training in Lex the next two weeks and then professional development begins and then, well, school. And even though I'm desperate to return to work, I have a confession: I cried several times today at the idea of leaving her. I've been with her almost the entire day of every single day of her life. That's a lot of time to spend with someone! I miss her already just thinking about it. And the idea of someone else watching her - someone who doesn't know that she likes to be held facing out and that she doesn't like getting hiccups and that she had a hard time falling asleep on her back and that she gags when she needs to spit up and that she likes her little blue elephant toy and that she... well... just someone who doesn't know her like her Mama... the idea of it terrifies me. I cannot express how much I will miss my sweet baby and the Mommy/daughter time we have had together already.
And that's all I have to say about that.
She Looks Like... I posted earlier about old wives tales regarding the sex of the baby. Every other day of my pregnancy, someone would guess a different sex based on a different reason (for the record - the Chinese calendar was right, the pencil test was wrong). It made me laugh because people were so convinced by their own reasonings - even though the person right beside them had a different reason to guess a different sex. Well, the latest version of that is when people try to determine who Emerson looks like. At this point, I think Emerson has been compared to every living relative - and even a few who are no longer with us - that she has. I love it though. People still do that to me - if I meet a childhood friend of my mom's, she will immediately tell me how much I look like Mom. A day later, I could meet a childhood friend of my dad's, and he will proceed to proclaim his surprise at how much I look like Dad. I tell people that Emerson doesn't look like anyone...but Emerson. :)
Three months... Immediately after I gave birth, before being dismissed to go home, I had a final visit from both my doctor and my pediatrician. They gave me the same exact advice: give it three months. My doctor said I'd feel like a normal human again in three months. When we asked the pediatrician about different concerns we had, he always said she'd grow out of it in three months. Three months. It sounds like a long time (and felt like it at times!) - but here we are, two months and two weeks later and I have to admit, they were right. Emerson is already a totally different baby, and Mommy and Daddy are normal humans again! Everyone is sleeping better and smiling more! It's amazing how different it is!
Back to Work... I have to preface this mini-post by admitting that I've been incredibly lucky. I've had a nice long maternity leave with Emerson, since it fell right at the end of school. I had her exactly six weeks before school let out, so I had that time plus the entire month of June. But today was my last day to be home with her. I teach a training in Lex the next two weeks and then professional development begins and then, well, school. And even though I'm desperate to return to work, I have a confession: I cried several times today at the idea of leaving her. I've been with her almost the entire day of every single day of her life. That's a lot of time to spend with someone! I miss her already just thinking about it. And the idea of someone else watching her - someone who doesn't know that she likes to be held facing out and that she doesn't like getting hiccups and that she had a hard time falling asleep on her back and that she gags when she needs to spit up and that she likes her little blue elephant toy and that she... well... just someone who doesn't know her like her Mama... the idea of it terrifies me. I cannot express how much I will miss my sweet baby and the Mommy/daughter time we have had together already.
And that's all I have to say about that.
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