Silly, all-consuming, can't-get-rid-of worries

I wish I didn't worry.
I wish I was one of those laid-back moms who took things in stride and knew everything simply would just work out.
But I'm far from that.
In a previous post, I already admitted my (senseless) worry that having a child would somehow damage my relationship with Jesse.  Knowing how completely ridiculous that turned out to be should calm my mind a little.
But it hasn't.

For some reason, I cannot shake this fear that baby number 2 will, in some way, make Emerson feel neglected... or it will change her in some way... or worse, it will change my feelings towards her in some way.

Really, I blame my cat, Moe, for this, and I honestly did not notice the connection until my fingers typed out the last paragraph.  See, before Emerson was born, I adored Moe.  He and I lived alone together for over 5 years.  We'd cuddle up on the bed or couch together every night.  However, since Emerson's birth, that relationship has drastically changed.  Moe runs from the screaming, giggling, loud baby so when she is awake, he's rarely in view.  When she is asleep, I'm usually trying to grade papers or do lesson plans (or go to sleep at 9:00) so I get annoyed when he climbs all over my lap.  I catch myself sometimes and realize I'm being unfair to him.  He is neglected.  My feelings for him have changed.

I guess that's what I fear will happen with Emerson.  Perhaps she won't hide under the bed when the new baby arrives (or maybe she will!), but I worry I won't have time for her.  I worry that she'll notice how distracted Mommy suddenly is.  I know I won't be able to rock her to bed at night or spend as much one-on-one time with her and that these changes will make her feel like Mommy loves her less.

I know I'm being ridiculous.  Jesse tells me all the time - you and I both have younger siblings and look how we turned out! (it's supposed to be reassuring).  But seriously, I adore my little brother and I thank God every day I have siblings, so I don't know why I'm so obsessed with this concern.

I've even been stubborn about moving Emerson into the bigger bedroom.  I don't want her life to be totally flipped upside down so I've been trying to defend leaving her in the nursery...

It sounds silly as I type this.  But writing is therapy and I needed to get this out.  So there, I said it.

The only thing I do more than worry is think of things to worry about.

My name is Coury and I'm a worry-holic.

Getting to Know My Daughter

My little one is not so little anymore.  She turned 18 months old this week and, in the last few months, she hasn't felt like a baby.  She's forming a personality and I have to say, I like what I'm seeing.

So far, my little girl is sweet and affectionate, yet feisty and independent.  She'll rush across the room to give me a hug but she'll refuse to hold my hand as we walk from my car to the house.  She wraps her arms around my neck for a hug but she grabs the spoon from my hand to feed herself.

If Emerson wants you to sit somewhere, she'll point to the chair and proclaim, "SIT!".  And if you sit in a different chair than the one she intended, she points that tiny finger a little more aggressively and says, "No, Mommy, SIT!'.  And she does not back down.  The other day at my mom's house, she evidently wanted to go outside because when no one was looking, she opened the screen door, walked out, closed the door, climbed down two steps and plopped herself in a chair outside.  She's a woman who knows what she wants and refuses to take no for an answer.

I realize that in years to come, I may curse myself for saying this... but her independent, strong personality makes me so proud.  After all, I did name her after the man whose most famous essay is entitled Self-Reliance...

She also loves to dance.  Whether it's the Fresh Beat Band, Wheels on the Bus, or Ke$ha's latest, if she hears music, she stops to dance along.  Last Friday, Jesse, Emerson and I spent at least twenty minutes dancing to Ke$ha (the same song, over and over and over).  As we laughed at each other over her head, I realized - years ago, I spent my Fridays dancing at bars, but this was so much more fun.

Perhaps the sweetest thing, Emerson loves to kiss mommy's 'baby.'  She tells baby to "grow" and "eat" and "night night."  I don't know if she thinks my stomach is my baby or what, but she knows that under Mommy's shirt is "Baby" and almost every night, she has to talk to him/her.  It has made being pregnant so much more exciting.

I enjoyed Emerson as a newborn, but I have to admit, getting to know her as a person has been the most fun and most rewarding part of being a parent so far.

Becoming a Mom...part II

In July, I had a training in Louisville.  I sat among some of my closest friends in a conference room of the Brown Hotel, and I could not shake this nauseous, hot feeling.  I kept trying to ignore it, thinking I hadn't eaten enough or the room was just too warm.  However, on day two of the training, I felt the same feelings.  On the way home, I asked Jesse to stop at Walgreens so I could buy a pregnancy test.  We laughed it off, knowing it would have to be pretty early symptoms if I was pregnant, and by the time I got home, I stuffed the pregnancy test in the back of a bathroom drawer and forgot about it.

Until a few weeks later when a certain something went missing and I remembered that nauseous feeling.  And I remembered just knowing I was pregnant the first time - feeling it in my body before my body showed me an external sign.

So I drug that test back out from behind the fingernail polish and bags of makeup.  And what do you know... my instincts were right after all.  We're expecting baby #2!

This time, I was determined to surprise Jesse with the news.  I had about 30 minutes before he would come home from work, so I acted fast.  I grabbed a basket, filled it with Emerson's newborn clothes, a few pictures of Jesse holding her, the standard striped, white blanket and my pregnancy test... with a note that simply said:  "Ready to do it all again?".

I placed the basket where he would see it as soon as he opened the door, and I sat, grinning sheepishly, waiting for the sound of his car in the drive.

And I waited.

And waited.

And waited.

Finally, I heard the car... the steps... the door... and then a voice.  It started out soft and confused and quickly grew in volume and excitement:  "Wha... what is this... what?? REALLY?  WE ARE?!"

I rushed into the bedroom and nodded.

Yep, we're ready to do it all again.  Bring it on, Baby #2!

Teaching: Perfect Job for a Mom?

The teaching profession is widely considered one of the best jobs for mothers.  Yesterday, my sister asked me if I could now better understand why some people choose teaching as a career simply for that reason, and it got me thinking... what makes teaching a great job for moms?  And a not-so-great one?

The first obvious advantage are the breaks, especially summer break.  As a mother, there's nothing better than getting to spend an entire summer break at home with your child.  And once your children are of school age, I'm sure it's even sweeter to be able to stay at home with them on spring, fall, and Christmas breaks, as well as snow days.  However, as I mentioned in a previous post, if you want to advance in your career, you often times have to work during those long breaks.  For example, although I have turned down numerous trainings for this summer, I am training teachers for two weeks in July, and I have a two-day leader training in Louisville.  These are minor compared to no break at all, but it is a reality.  Speaking of breaks, another disadvantage of being a teacher is you do not get to pick when your family goes on vacation.  It may be cheaper in "out of season" times, but as a teacher, your vacation time is picked for you - June and July!

Another great advantage to teaching are the work hours - we can leave school at 3:30 pm.  I used to never leave school at 3:30, but this year, when I was still adjusting to not being around Emerson very often, you could see me walking about the back doors at 3:30 sharp every day.  However, this comes with a disadvantage, based on your subject and your work ethic.  Although I would leave school at 3:30, it meant I had to spent hours at night, preparing lesson plans and grading papers.  That, to me, is one huge disadvantage of teaching... you can't just leave your job at work.  I know there are lots of other professions like that too, but some people are fortunate enough to walk out the door at 5 pm and not have to think about work again until the morning.  That isn't the case for most teachers.  That means, I either miss out on time with my child by staying at school until my work is finished, or wait until she goes to bed and spend the little "me time" I have working.  Of course, as I stated, this is totally dependent upon what type of teacher you want to be.

Speaking of that, another disadvantage I recently thought of deals with continuing your education.  Teachers in KY are required to get their Masters, and if you want to "move up" the professional ladder, you usually have to get 30 graduate hours to be certified in any other job.  Unlike in some professions where you can get promoted simply for your work or your time invested, in the education world, you have to get special certification for each job.  This means time -- and money -- taken away from your child so you can pursue your graduate degrees.

There is another advantage that I think few people consider.  Teaching has taught me so many of the characteristics I need as a mother: patience, flexibility, discipline, etc.  The traits required of teachers are the same ones required of mothers, and after years of practicing these in the classroom, they come a little more naturally at home.  While it is more difficult to discipline my own child, I have seen firsthand what happens when children aren't disciplined at home, and that is a strong reminder for me to tell Emerson "No," to give her a curfew (when she's older, of course), etc.

It is definitely not a one-sided issue (what is?).  Teaching is a great career for mothers, but it isn't a perfect one.  And it definitely isn't something someone should choose simply because they think it would be good to have for that reason.  I wouldn't want any other job, but I felt that way before being a mother.  I love my subject, I love my students, and I love helping them learn.  Those are the reasons to be a teacher.  The rest are just bonuses.

Mrs. Mom

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.

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.

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.