Falling in Love With My Baby

After an evening of wine and a gabfest about being moms, two friends suggested that I blog about bringing my first born daughter home from the hospital and the feelings I experienced on that pilgrimage into motherhood. My friends said that my frankness could help other moms to realize that not knowing what to do all the time is normal. Seriously? Were they drunk? Probably, or so I thought until this morning when one friend emailed me to ask why I hadn't written that story yet. I didn't know I was taking requests, but I'll do it anyway. Damn, the things I do for my friends.

As you know, I had a little girl on a Saturday in March, eight years ago. I won't go into the gory details of the labour other than to say that it was long and I hadn't slept in two days. I really felt like my dreams were coming true that morning. All I ever wanted was to be a mom and have a daughter. I had already planned our shopping trips and our confabulations while lying on her bed. It was going to be a wonderful adventure! While we were in the hospital everything was grand. I had a ton of visitors all telling us how lucky we were and how great I looked, which was total bull-shit, by the way. That night the baby was screaming in her hospital cradle so I brought her into my bed. I slept for about 5 seconds, but the baby fell fast asleep and I was just thrilled to hold my peaceful baby. In the hospital, breastfeeding seemed to be going well while the nursed helped me. Obviously, this mom thing was going to be a breeze. I was a natural! Yeah, right.

The day finally came when we got to bring our baby home from the hospital. That was also the day that my hormones kicked in and that lack of sleep caught up with me. Before our release into the real world the baby had to have a blood test. That's the one where they prick their feet and they scream bloody murder. You know the one. Well, I started bawling and the nurse had to take me into the hall so the technician could do her job. Not cool. So, then they had to show us how to put her into the car seat which I knew wouldn't be a problem because we had been practicing for months with my Curious George doll. So, off we go home. Despite the fact that my husband drove slowly home, I felt every bump along the road. (Ladies, you know what I'm talking about.) When we got home, my mom, my youngest sister, and my mother-in-law were all there to lend a hand. As soon as I walked through the door I felt so overwhelmed that I just broke down. My mom made me try to eat soup, but I couldn't hold the spoon so my sister spoon fed me while I was laying on the couch crying and shaking. I tried to feed the baby when she woke up but I couldn't get the proper latch and I was crying and she was crying and that just made me cry more. I felt like a mental patient. I just couldn't feed the baby. I couldn't even hold her without crying. I wanted to be a mother my entire life and now that I was I just couldn't do it. What the hell was wrong with me? I didn't know, and I'm sure my husband was wondering when the next flight to Timbuktu was leaving. I don't blame him. I was a total nightmare. I was ordered to sleep. I don't know if this has ever happened to you or not, but I was so over tired it was almost impossible to calm down and sleep. Also, I could hear my daughter crying so I kept getting up to see if I could feed her, which I couldn't. I was useless, my boobs were useless. Natural mother, my ass. I was failing and I knew it, and there was no escape. Welcome to the wonderful world of mommy-guilt!

After two weeks of the baby screaming and several trips to the doctor and the breastfeeding clinic, we decided she needed a bottle. I was totally fine with this idea by then. I just needed everyone to stop crying. Guess what. It worked like a hot-damn, for the baby, that is. Peace at last. It was such a relief but we were not out of the woods yet. I was still suffering in silence and crying when I was alone and the baby was sleeping. I should have won an Academy Award for my portrayal of a normal mom. Inside I felt confused, disoriented, and numb. I didn't tell a soul, not even my husband. During this time, a family friend had had a baby as well. We were invited to the shower and I really didn't want to go, but I went and I brought the baby along too. I put on my happy face and went through the motions of having a good time. (It's a good thing this was before I got back into drinking again because things could have become messy.) We were taking a photo of my daughter and my friend's new baby together when my friend turned to me and said,
"Did you ever think that you could love a person this much?" I couldn't believe what I was hearing. I can barely make it through the day and all my friend can think about is how much she's in love with her baby! I really don't know what my response was, but I was thinking that if she was having such a gay ol' time with this motherhood thing she could have my baby for a few days, that was fine with me. I could use the break. Somehow, I held it together until I got home. I brought the baby in and handed her off to my husband. That night I seriously wondered what was wrong with me and I knew that my husband and the baby deserved so much more than I was capable of giving.

It took about six weeks until I started to feel better. I knew I didn't feel like I had before I had the baby. Carefree, no responsibility. Those days were over forever, but I was transforming into the new me. The me with a baby and I was happy. The fog that I was living under had cleared and I could really start to enjoy my baby. I had actually fallen in love with her. I wasn't a dead-beat mom after all. Yay! Don't get the wrong impression, though. Through the first six weeks I did love my baby. I cared for her, fed her changed her, I kissed and hugged her a lot, but I didn't feel that deep undying, unwavering love that I feel now. Of course, it's never easy and there are always new and exciting challenges. Often times I have no clue what to do. It's trial and error. The first six weeks of being a mom was a disaster and I suppose on looking back I had a serious case of the baby blues and I should have told someone how I felt, but I got through it. I love my baby who is now 8 and I can't imagine life without her. Cliche, I know, but it's the truth! I don't know if this will help anyone out there, but it feels good to get all that off my chest. Phew!

Staying Home With The Kids Ain't Always Easy But It's Worth It. (One Mom's Opinion)

I'm pretty lucky to be able to stay home with my girls. Well, actually, truth be told, I really should work because, well, let's just say we're sacrificing a few things for me to be here on my computer- I mean, here with the girls. Fortunately, I don't care that much about 'stuff'. I'm happy to make financial sacrifices for the sake of being home. The reasons I stay home are a) I know it's best for kids to be with their mother especially in the early years, and b) if I were to work full time I would be bitter and stressed out because I would miss all the important little things that went on in my girls' day, and c) my personality is such that I know I wouldn't be able to do the household tasks that are necessary to running a home plus be present for my kids if I worked full time. I would just want to come home and lounge on the couch and my girls deserve the best that I can give them. I didn't like working full time before I had kids. I know some may call me lazy. Go ahead. At least I'm honest. I just simply don't do stress. If I think a situation will be stressful I will turn and walk the other way. That's me! I also don't do drama but that's a topic for another blog.
Being at home full time does get stressful, let me tell you. Allow me first say that I'm blessed to have two amazing girls ( I know no one wants to hear about how moms think their kids are amazing so I'll leave it there) but even so, I find it quite challenging sometimes to be home all the time with them. Just them and me. Oooo, that actually sounds a bit spooky! Like I've said before, I think I'm a calm person. Some may say laid back. Put two screaming kids together with a tired mom, a mountain of laundry and breakfast dishes still on the table at lunch time and you have a recipe for a meltdown and I'm not talking about the kids having a meltdown. Laid back mom quickly transforms into a cross between the Wicked Witch of the West and the scary lady from Goonies, or as I have dubbed myself, Psycho Mom from Hell and it's not pretty, my friends. I do my best not to become overwhelmed by the everyday drudgery because, well, I really don't like that Psycho Mom from Hell. She is unattractive and hateful and the kids think she's a total nut job. I do have a secret to reveal though. It actually feels good to go ape sh*t and let out the pent up steam every once in awhile. That's when I start talking to myself in my out loud voice and run into my room and slam the door shut to my bedroom and start throwing stuff. It's an adult temper tantrum and from time to time it happens. I'm not proud but it is cathartic. I guess what I'm to say is that it not all sugar and spice around here all the time. Sometimes we all go a little loony and need a break. For me, all is well after a glass of wine.

Get Penderized. It's A Beautiful Thing

We just got back from Pender Island, BC where my youngest sister's husband's family have a beautiful vacation home situated on the beach in Peter Cove. Pender Island is absolutely gorgeous and is one of my favourite places. Being on Pender Island is relaxing to the MAX. Now, for those of you who know me you know that I am not a huge nature fan. As a matter of fact I barely like outside but when I am there on Pender I actually spend most of the time outside. OK, well I mostly sit outside on the deck with a glass of wine in my hand but I am outside. That must count. The girls, on the other hand, spend every waking second on the beach exploring and searching for the perfect shell, finding jelly-fish (they found one that resembled a deflated silicone breast implant, ewwww) and swimming in the ocean, which is not warm but they don't seem to mind. The beautiful thing about the location of the house is that you know the girls are safe except for maybe the odd scraped knee or splinter. That peace of mind only adds to the tranquility and restfulness of the place. It's kind of like kicking it old school because the kids just go all day and you call them when it's time for lunch or dinner. Remember how it was when we were young? That's the Pender life.

One thing that could put a damper on your restful holiday on Pender is being there with someone whose idea of a good time is to go, go, go. Let me just explain. I am one of those people who enjoys realxing with a beverage and some snacky foods and just chatting or reading. I don't plan out my day except for planning what I'm going to eat or drink next. That's pretty much the extent of my day on holiday (and sometimes at home). OK, I may go on one very small hike once or twice but I will bring some wine as a reward when I reach the top. Truly, I just don't want to be bothered!!!
All in all, my vacation on Pender was exactly as it should be. We were all did our own thing in order to have a fulfilling holiday and that's the way it should be. I call this getting 'Penderized'.