Cattula

Trying to Find the Sweet Spot

So, like most modern day parents, I have a tendency to obsess over my parenting. 

Am I attentive enough?  Too attentive?  Is it ok to have child care?  Should I have someone come to the house or send him somewhere?  If we really scraped by, could I stop working?  Would that be fair to him - if it make us less stable?

I had lunch with a friend the other day.  And while I feel like I practice "attachement parenting lite" - she practices a more formal type of it.  And being with her makes me question all my decisions anew.  She works w/o daycare - maybe I should do that too.  But I did do that - and it make me insane.  And I am so much less stressed out now.

I really think it comes down to knowing yourself and knowing your child and finding the solution that meets your sets of needs in the right way.  I choose to partially wean and have part-time childcare.  She feeds almost no solids at 11 months and has no paid childcare.  In the end - though - what matters is the love - the attachment.  And our bond is strong.

As Steve said to me the other night - Ben never calls out in the night for Cecilia - he calls out for me.  I am his mama.  And I will always be.  And for that I am truly, truly blessed.

Mom's Group Dropout (Or at least aspiring to...)

It's happening again.  I've logged onto facebook.  And there they are.  The pictures.

A large group of moms and babies - on a playdate, at a muesum, or some other event.  I know everyone there.  And I wasn't invited.

And on some level I am completly ok with that.  But on another - well....It's all so high school.  And that is exactly how it leaves me feeling - high school, alone, uninvited, questioning why I am not liked, scanning the contents of my mind for what I did or said and when....

The truth is the explanation is probably simple.  I'm a work at home mom.  And I hang out with a lot of stay at home moms.  And they just don't get my schedule - no matter how many times I explain it.  It's like there is this wall between us.  On some level I am jealous of them - they get to be home and just be home - not home with an email to send, an attorney's ego to soothe, a paper to get out.  And on some level they probably resent me - a two income family, a back-up plan built in.

But then there are also the other lines that divide - carefully etched.  To breastfeed or not.  To co-sleep or cry it out.  To make your own baby food or use the store bought variety. 

I consider myself to be practicing "attachment parenting light."  I got an epidural - but not until the very end - so it never really kicked in - my "almost natural" birth.  I co-sleep.  I'm breastfeeding.  Still.  At 14 months, I'm not sure when I will stop.

Then again - maybe it has nothing to do with the mommy wars.  With working or not.  With co-sleeping or cry it out.  Maybe it is because I tend to exaggerate too much.  Maybe it is because I've never managed to be a glass half full type.

Whatever the reason - the fact is - I'm okay.  I may not be the most popular mom or the most liked mom.  But I am a mom.  Which means that for now - at least - there is one person who thinks the world of me - the one who is napping upstairs right now.  And I have my close friends.  My confidants.  I belong to some.  But I don't belong to everyone.  And that is okay.

As moms,  some day we will have to teach our children to accept their limits.  And a lesson first lived is a lesson much more delicately taught.

He Fell Asleep without Nursing for the Second Time Ever Tonight...

I mean - technically - he has gone to sleep w/a bottle before bed before.  But last week, instead of nursing and then playing w/my hair - he just played w/my hair and drifted off to sleep.  I figured it was just a fluke and wouldn't happen again for a long time - but it happened again tonight.

It's just odd - I remember when he was first born and he lived in the ergo.  I used to worry he would never learn to crawl or walk because I wore him so much - but over time he was in it less and less and now he is toddling everywhere...

And we nursed to sleep from infancy until about 11 months - we started nursing and then playing w/my hair afterwards.  I used to think I would never be able to put him to sleep w/o nursing.  Now I see how quickly these stages really do go by.  I think in some ways it will help me be more patient if/when there is a seocnd..

 I will still offer to let him nurse before bed and I'm sure he will continue to accept for some time to come.  But I can see how it could someday - and it is beautiful/too fast/right on time - all at once...

I Knew You Before You Were Born

The title is a paraphrase of a popular bible verse - one my mom has always said she finds creepy.  But I was thinking about it this morning, while I was watching Ben play on the bed, holding onto the window sill and boucning up and down, reveling in the morning light.  A year ago I didn't know if we would have a boy or a girl.  Two years ago we didn't know if we would ever have a baby at all.  And now - when I look at him - he seems so inevitable.  How could I not have known? 

How could I not have seen those blue eyes in my dreams?  How could I have not known that heady smell of baby on my shoulder as he drifted off to sleep?

We are working on weaning now.  Up to this point - believe it or not - Ben has breastfed almost every two hours at night.  At the height of his reflux it was every hour and half.  I'm very proud that I made it this far.  I may continue to breastfeed - but my goal is to cut down - enough to let my fertility re-emerge - enough to get more of a sense of privacy back.   I hope to be down to two to three times per day in a couple weeks.  We are there now - it is just that at night - he breastfeeds much more frequently.

But last night we left the door open and when he woke  his cry had changed.  It wasn't full of fear - and I feel comfortable now - to stay with him - to walk through this weaning together.  We play with his ball, we pet the cat, we wait for sleep to come. 

I love  you baby boy.  And as you grow - be gentle - don't leave me behind too quickly.

The Missing Link

Sweet baby boy.  You are at drop in daycare right now so I can catch up on work and things around the house.  Now I am caught up and just waiting for you to come home.  It's amazing how much I can miss you over the span of just four hours.

You start preschool in the fall  - 12 hours a week.  12 hours I have craved.  And yet, I know I will miss you so.  Free time just doesn't mean what it used to - I want to see you flapping in your arms in excitment when I walk into a room - moreso than I want to see my floors be clean.  An yet I must work to help support us.  And sometimes my work is too hurried, my mistakes too frequent.  I love you with all my heart and am so happy you get to spend so much time at home with me.

My Sweet Baby Boy

Somehow you are 10 months today.  I don't know how.  The days slip by.  We get up, we play, we have breakfast, you nap, we go to the park, day melts into evening, you drift off to sleep.  You wake during the night and cry out - to see if we are there, to see if you are not alone.  You are not alone little boy.  You are deeply cherished, deeply loved.

You pull yourself up to standing now - creep around the room holding onto furniture.  You marvel at big kids.  You long to walk - I can see it in your eyes.  You are slowly weaning - the fullness in my chest each morning tells me this is true.  You hold your own cups, drink from a straw, feed yourself.  The shadow of your baby days is slowly edging out of my life - to make room for the little boy, the young man you will become.

You love people.  You smile huge and clap whenever someone enter the room.  You are quick to anger, but also quick to recover.  Your laugh makes me swell with pride and joy.  Your tears make my chest ache.  There is no greater privilege than to parent you.  Thank you for coming, my sweet baby boy.

Weaning

That is the great topic on my mind of late. Breastfeeding has always been a love/hate thing with me. I love the hormonal surges of prolactin – the bliss I feel – the deep connection I have with Ben. I love when he cries and I can stop it so quickly just by sticking a boob in his mouth. I love that it is so good for him – will build up his immunity and help him develop.

But then – there is the hate. Sometimes I just don’t want to have someone attached to my body. I want the freedom to come and go as I please without accounting for how much milk is in storage before I go. I’ve never been able to get very far ahead w/pumping – so in a way – Ben’s need for breastmilk has been a bit of a leash for me.

I’m determined to make it to the first year – to August. But after that – then what? Ideally, I would breastfeed him another year. But given the frequency of Ben’s breastfeeding, I fear that will prolong the return of my fertility – and at 36 – how long is too long? A year is a long time to breastfeed. A year is a solid start. And yet I have guilt at the thought of stopping.

Ben will start preschool in the fall. I should keep going so he keeps getting immunities – to reduce his exposure to new germs. I shouldn’t take away the comfort of breastfeeding right when he is starting something new. But if I got pregnant in August – I would be on maternity leave over the summer and not need to worry about finding childcare then. And yet so much of this is out of my control.

Perhaps the best middle ground is to start weaning around his birthday and proceed with caution. See how he is doing and assess from there. Of course that flies in the face of my wanting the anwer and wanting it now – but then again – all of parenthood does!

Breastfeeding

I saw a post on a message board the other day. It was about breastfeeding and how this particular woman decided to stop because she didn't like the pressure of being responsible for all feedings. She had imagined parenting would be shared to a greater degree. And I could totally relate. There have been times when I have been frustrated with breastfeeding - wanted to sleep or leave the house without accounting for milk beforehand. But yet, I am still breastfeeding. And to be honest - I have had a relatively easy road. Ben latched well after the first couple weeks - and I never really had any pain. But I know several women who have quit only because they found the frequency of feedings, the extent of the committment, to be overwealming.

And what I am about to say is rather controversial. But I don't think feminism - as it is currently practiced - has really prepared us for the biological realities of parenting. The simple truth is - babies need their mothers in a primal, physical way. Of course they need their fathers too. But breastfeeding requires a physical committment to be near your baby - or at least a pump - for a year or longer. I can see how this physical need is both terrifying and overwealming - but I think surrendering to it helps you in larger ways surrender to your children. There is real beauty in sacrifice - a beauty we have lost as a society that focuses so much on pursuing individual happiness. There is a contentment - deep and solid - that comes from giving up momentary pleasures to be there for the ones you love. It is not easy - but it is worth it all the same.

6 Months (But it took me until 7 months to post it)

So I wrote this post when Ben was just turning 6 months - and it took me until now to post it - such is life with a baby!

Ben is now 6 months old. He is eating solid foods (rice cereal and oatmeal), making his first attempts at sitting, and teething on everything in sight (with one tooth peeking through his bottom left gums!). He is such a joy to be around – smiling, laughing and giggling. He is a total flirt – catching the eyes of strangers and unleashing his sly grin.
The other day we were in Borders and Ben had fallen asleep in his ergo. I was sitting back, sipping coffee and stroking his downy hair – his soft breath on my chest. It was one of those iconic moments – the kind you imagine when you think about having a baby.
A lady nearby was talking and her voice was raised just above the level of most conversations – so I found myself drawn to listening to her. She was describing to an older man how she did not have kids and could not imagine ever doing so. They would hold her back. She wouldn’t be able to go where she wanted when she wanted. She couldn’t imagine that kind of sacrifice would be worthwhile.
I looked up to see the woman who was voicing these thoughts and saw a couple nearby. Their hands were locked and they were gazing at me and Ben – having a serene, quiet moment together. I could tell they were imagining having their own children together, one day.
And I found I could completely sympathize both with the woman who found the thought of children overwhelming and the couple who longed for the day they would be parents. When I imagined having children, I was far more like that couple. I didn’t picture long nights and screaming that I couldn’t stop. I pictured downy hair and warm breath against my chest. But parenting gives you both. And I do ultimately think it is worth it. But I am glad that woman was wide eyed to the sacrifice. It is good to go in knowing that there will be struggle. But I suspect many go in blind – like I did – like that couple will. There are simply no words to describe the enormity of caring for another life – of putting your own needs on hold. But there is also no way to describe the joy that comes with being able to use the words “my son.”

Norman Rockwell We Are Not

Before I had a baby, I had these visions of family life.  They were like Norman Rockwell paintings - soft on the edges and full of nostalgia.  My husband and I would gather around the Christmas tree with our new baby, touched with bliss.  We never argued in these dreams.  We never disagreed.  And my fantasy baby certainly never had colic.  In fact, I'm amazed looking back how convenient my fantasy baby was.  I would rock the baby and place him or her lovingly in the crib for a long nap and then sneak away, undisturbed.  The fantasy baby never startled awake or refused to go to sleep in the first place. 

But the reality is my baby doesn't reliably nap - and even when he does nap they are often short.  Holidays are stressful because it is hard to schlep to the relatives houses with kids in tow.  And my husband spends more time driving me nuts than I ever imagined he would.

And yet there is bliss here.  Like today, on a trip to the mall with Ben, when I slipped into a dressing room to nurse him.  The moment he saw what we were up to, he flashed me a huge smile.  And then his body, limp on my shoulder after he fed, warm and heavy.  I breathed in his smell.  I love him so much.

Bliss is an island you find in the midst of chaos.  And having a family is almost never like a Norman Rockwell painting - but in a way, it is better.  Because sometimes you need the hard edges of life - the fight over the missing sock, the rat race to get out the door - to make you treasure the moments - the bliss - you are given.