When I got married, I was (newly) 31 years ago; I had Emerson when I was almost 33. There are many advantages to being that age before becoming a mother. I do not feel as if I've missed out on anything - I had plenty of nights at the dance clubs, I've traveled to Europe twice, and I lived alone for several years. Professionally and financially, I felt secure. Like I said, there are many. But one of those advantages - being professionally secure - has proven to be somewhat of a disadvantage as well. Perhaps "disadvantage" isn't the right word, but my professional life and my personal life don't quite seem to be on the same path anymore.
I became a teacher in 2001. I didn't even meet Jesse until 2004 (or date anyone seriously for that matter), and we didn't marry until 2009. For eight years, I dedicated my life to my job. And honestly, it paid off. In 2010, I hit my peak, winning three different teaching awards, one of them on a national level. I stayed busy, working to be the best teacher I could be and trying to move up professionally. I helped score AP exams, I traveled to different high schools as a consultant for Saturday Study Sessions numerous times throughout the year, I traveled to Connecticut and Texas for trainings... I lived and breathed AP English. Then Emerson came along.
BAM!
Everything. Changed.
For two summers now, I have turned down the opportunity to score AP exams. Although the scoring is done in Louisville, it is tiresome work and it would be impossible for me to drive back and forth. Also for two summers now, I have turned down the opportunity to travel to Texas to complete a training opportunity. I have turned down numerous Saturday study sessions, choosing to stay home instead.
I made these decisions, and I don't regret them, because instead of those things, I spent quality time with Emerson. When I barely see her during the week, it is hard to sacrifice my Saturdays and it is truly difficult to imagine going a week without her, especially at her age when she changes and grows so much.
But there is a little part of me that feels like I'm letting people down. Like I'm losing a part of myself. Like I'm falling down a hill instead of climbing up a professional ladder. It's a strange feeling, a difficult feeling to figure out.
After all, teaching defined me. That's just who I was.
Now I'm Emerson's mom.
I love the title change, and I can say without question that the time I spent tonight watching Emerson giggle as she kicked a ball around was by far time better spent than sitting at a bar drinking away the woes of scoring AP essays all day, which is taking place right now in Louisville. But I think I'm still figuring out how to be both a successful, driven teacher and a present, caring mother - and to feel I'm doing my best at both.
Thursday, June 14, 2012
Thursday, June 7, 2012
Mama and Baby Cry It Out
I just realized that I wrote one post about making Emerson "cry it out" but it was only about 24 hours into it. Oh boy... here's a fun story for your blog readers out there.
As I stated in my previous post, I really wanted to avoid the "cry it out" method. I read so much about babies developing trust issues and thinking their parents won't be there to meet their needs, not to mention I hated the idea of letting my child cry, that I put off the decision and went without good sleep for a very long time. Finally, as I said earlier, I gave in. We put Emerson in her crib, walked out, and listened to her cry.
But man oh man, is my baby girl stubborn. Emerson would cry for about an hour. Then, of course, she'd wear herself out. But she refused to lie down. Refused. She fell asleep sitting up. Her head would fall forward, she'd wake up, shake it off, and repeat. She'd bob around like this for hours. Literally. One night it lasted 3 hours.
Proponents of the "cry it out" method told me to give it 3 days. Day one, babies cry about an hour. Day two, they cry about 30 minutes. By day three, they're sleeping through the night without crying.
To all of you, I stick out my tongue and say NOT HARDLY!
Emerson's crying and bobbing lasted for eight days. Yes, eight. She was so exhausted from the bobbing and the crying that she barely got any sleep. I spent several of those nights at my mom's house in tears - I couldn't stand to be home listening to her cry. I said hello to one of my coworkers one day during planning and was suddenly crying to her. It was a rough eight days.
Then, suddenly, a miracle happened. Emerson slept. Emerson didn't sit up. Emerson didn't bob or cry or fight it. She just stayed asleep when I put her down.... until twelve hours later at 7 am.
And she has every night since with very few exceptions.
Crying it out is controversial. It isn't for everyone. But I can say with utmost confidence it was one of the best decisions I have made as a mother. When I look back at pictures of Emerson's life, I can see the bags under her eyes, especially between 6-8 mths when she was waking every 2-3 hours. After she started sleeping all night in her own crib, she looks healthier and happier. And so do Mom and Dad.
As I stated in my previous post, I really wanted to avoid the "cry it out" method. I read so much about babies developing trust issues and thinking their parents won't be there to meet their needs, not to mention I hated the idea of letting my child cry, that I put off the decision and went without good sleep for a very long time. Finally, as I said earlier, I gave in. We put Emerson in her crib, walked out, and listened to her cry.
But man oh man, is my baby girl stubborn. Emerson would cry for about an hour. Then, of course, she'd wear herself out. But she refused to lie down. Refused. She fell asleep sitting up. Her head would fall forward, she'd wake up, shake it off, and repeat. She'd bob around like this for hours. Literally. One night it lasted 3 hours.
Proponents of the "cry it out" method told me to give it 3 days. Day one, babies cry about an hour. Day two, they cry about 30 minutes. By day three, they're sleeping through the night without crying.
To all of you, I stick out my tongue and say NOT HARDLY!
Emerson's crying and bobbing lasted for eight days. Yes, eight. She was so exhausted from the bobbing and the crying that she barely got any sleep. I spent several of those nights at my mom's house in tears - I couldn't stand to be home listening to her cry. I said hello to one of my coworkers one day during planning and was suddenly crying to her. It was a rough eight days.
Then, suddenly, a miracle happened. Emerson slept. Emerson didn't sit up. Emerson didn't bob or cry or fight it. She just stayed asleep when I put her down.... until twelve hours later at 7 am.
And she has every night since with very few exceptions.
Crying it out is controversial. It isn't for everyone. But I can say with utmost confidence it was one of the best decisions I have made as a mother. When I look back at pictures of Emerson's life, I can see the bags under her eyes, especially between 6-8 mths when she was waking every 2-3 hours. After she started sleeping all night in her own crib, she looks healthier and happier. And so do Mom and Dad.
New Moms
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.
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.
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...
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