Gesundheit

Well that was just awful . . . nothing scarier for a first time parent than a four month old with a head cold. I can proudly say we survived the runny nose and stuffy head.

Here are the things that helped me through:

1. Boogie Wipes. These are awesome, soft little saline wipes for cleaning snotty noses and beyond. Though Helen definitely hated having her nose wiped, it made for a better experience all around
2. Nose syringe. I'm sure every parent has one - we got ours from the hospital when she was born. She screamed like a banshee when I used it, but it certainly pulled the snot from her tiny little nose.
3. Infants Tylenol. We bought the generic brand and had no problems. It perked her up on her worst days and helped her sleep better at night.
4. Vicks Baby Rub. We rubbed this over her chest and back at night to help break up the congestion. We were also trying to preempt a cough and make sure the coughing wouldn't wake her (luckily she hasn't gotten a cough yet).
5. Tissues. For yourself. Both myself and my husband caught her cold as well  . . . caring for a sick kid is mighty difficult when you're also sick.

Helen needed extra snuggles over the weekend, but otherwise she was tougher than I thought she'd be - seems like babies are a little more resilient than I gave them credit for.

My Greatest Achievement

I did it! Or, rather, we did it!

We successfully got out daughter to go to sleep on her own, almost every night, at about the same time. I can't tell you wart magic trick we used, because it kind of started with a fluke. But nothing, absolutely nothing in my life has given me more pride.

A friend recently asked how we did it, and to be honest I hesitate to giveis details. When I was struggling to get my daughter to sleep through the night (shoot, to sleep period), advice made me more frustrated because none of it seemed to work. Why, you ask? Because so-and-so's kid was not my kid. Every child is different, and while it can make you feel better to know others have struggled with the same thing, their solution might not work. Because your child is unique.

So here is my advice: try different things. If one thing works, try it again the next night. Attempt to establish a routine. This really helped Helen and now she can go to sleep on her own. We put her in bed before she is asleep and she is able to fall asleep on her own.

I might sound calm and cool now, but I wasn't for a long time. Don't be afraid of your feelings and don't be afraid of failing. Parenting is hard. Just remind yourself that many, many people do it every day. And that eventually . . . she will sleep.

A Little Leakage

Twelve weeks postpartum and I've officially peed my pants. And not even from a sneeze!

In the few weeks after delivery I tended to pee when I sneezed, but today I just peed taking a nice walk!

Seriously, what the hell? I never had these problems right after having Helen, so why am I having them now? It seems to me that the postpartum body is a constantly evolving, ever-changing thing. I'm not quite sure when everything will be back to "normal," but my pelvic floor muscles need to speed it up. 

Guess I need to start doing those kegel exercises everyone talks about . . . though when I'm supposed to find the time to remember to do them is beyond me.

Back to Work . . .

I did it! I successfully made it through my first week back to work without having a nervous breakdown or crying at my desk. Though now the weekend is over and I have to do it all over again . . . A colleague said the Monday after your first weekend would be hard, so here's hoping tomorrow goes well!

I'm working on a lengthier post about becoming a working mom. Hopefully after I get my "sea legs," as it were, the post will make more sense. For now it's just a jumble of thoughts and feelings. Lots of feelings. 

About Yesterday . . .

Just one day after posting about motherly guilt, a friend sent me this article about postpartum practices, or lack thereof, here in America. It's a very interesting read - and definitely a topic that needs more addressing in our society.

Fighting the Guilt Within

Catholic guilt may run deep (and as a papist I would know), but I'm beginning to think the guilt of motherhood is the worst kind of guilt.

I'm going back to work next week after ten weeks at home with my little nugget and I feel so many mixed emotions, guilt being pretty high on the list, and I find myself wondering if I'll ever feel a sense of normalcy again? I know "normal" will be a much different normal from my pre-parent days, but I feel like the past ten weeks were a sort of intermission between acts one and two of my life.

I'm waiting anxiously for my new "normal" because, frankly, I'm not sure how I'll feel once I'm back at work. I like my job, I like working, I like my co-workers and feel lucky in this economy to have a stable job with good benefits. But then . . . I look at my daughters sweet face and I can't imagine handing her over to someone else to nurture and play with and snuggle all day while I sit at a desk, wistfully wishing it was me holding her.

So guilt. So much guilt.

Will it go away? Or will it just get worse?

I fear I'll feel guilty for putting her in day care.

But I'll feel more guilty that I'll like being back at work. There have been hard days over the past ten weeks when I've caught myself thinking "I can't wait until I'm back at work . . ." And then I want to cry along with Helen for feeling so!! I should love every second of my time home with her!

Does anyone else feel like this?

Is anyone else struggling with the internal stay-at-home-mom debate? One day (today for instance) I absolutely believe I would love to stay at home in a few years once we can afford it and give Helen a sibling. But there's another part of me that thinks I'll love being back at work. Working won't make me a bad mother - maybe it will make me a more focused mother because I'll have to make the most of every minute I spend with my little girl.

But if I don't work . . . I don't pay off my student loan debt, my husband does. And yes, while the rational part of my brain knows that just because I wouldn't be "working outside the home," the idea of not working for moeny in my own right while still paying off college debt brings on a whole other kinds of guilt . . .

Does guilt ever end???

Comparing Notes, Not Babies

As a new/young mother, I frequently find myself asking other mom's for advice. Sometimes I follow it, sometimes I don't, but it always makes me feel better to know another mom has been through it and lived to tell the tale.

Comparing notes, as it were, seems to help ease my fears and reassure me that I'm not totally screwing up this whole parenting thing.

But when it comes to comparing babies, that just makes me feel crappy.

We just went in for Helen's two month check up and I was surprised to learn she was only in the 20th percentile for weight. While my husband and our mothers did their best to reassure me it was nothing but a number, I couldn't help the crappy feeling it gave me. Were my breast-feeding efforts not enough? Maybe my milk supply wasn't as good as I thought. Maybe so-and-so's baby was healthier that mine. Maybe my baby was too small . . . my mind went round and round with all the maybes and what-ifs that I kind of went crazy.

Logically I understand why doctors compare weight and length - you can't exactly ask a baby if it's feeling all right. Their measurements are big indicators that they're developing as they should and staying healthy. But I can't help but think the comparing makes mothers a little loopy. 

And I Thought Bathing Suit Shopping Was Difficult

As of today my daughter is six weeks, four days, and nineteen hours old. 

There is no "size" for her age. There is newborn clothing and then there is three month clothing. And baby clothes are nothing like pads and tampons, the sizes are not standardized across brands. While a newborn onesie from Carter's might fit her, the Circo newborn onsie is too lose. Where Carter's onsies are longer and narrower, Circo onsies are shorter and wider (meaning they might never fit!). 

It's a tricky game, baby clothes shopping. And how do you know what size they'll fit in come November? Sure, you want to buy that adorable turkey dress for Thanksgiving, but technically she'll be almost four months old, so will she really fit in a three month dress? Shoot, I bought turkey pajamas on clearance this past spring and they might not fit her then because boy is she a long baby. 

Shopping for a bathing suit is nothing compared to buying baby clothes, hoping and praying you're not wasting money on something your little one might never fit in to. Because if you're anything like me, the thought of buying stuff in multiple sizes and attempting to tug the tiny little onesies on and off baby's sweet little head is horrifying. Not only does the baby scream as you gently tug that itty bitty onsie over her head, but the screeching only gets louder as you struggle to get her wiggly little arms through the holes and navigate the snaps on the bottom. The thought of trying all that only to see if something fits, not to actually wear the item, is just crazy. 

At least with bathing suit shopping you don't hear screaming from the fitting room . . . hopefully. 

Less Sleep = More Life?

Slowly, very slowly, Helen is developing a sleep pattern. Not the best pattern, but a discernible pattern.

But, whoever said newborns sleep eighteen hours a day never met Helen. Somehow she just doesn't need that much sleep. Between naps and nighttime she probably sleeps eleven hours a day. Which is not that much . . . J and I both love sleep, so you'd think we'd have a sleepy baby. I swear, if I hadn't pushed her out of me I'd think she was someone else's baby.

But hey, when you sleep fewer hours you live more life, right?

The Land of the Living: Are We There Yet?

I woke up this morning after a very sleepless night feeling awful. My husband left for work, I fed Helen for a bit longer and she went down for a morning nap around 9:30.

It was only then that I looked in the mirror.

Eesh.

I am counting the days until Helen sleeps more through the night and eats less so I can permanently re-join the land of the living. Sure, I've taken a few day trips there in the past six weeks, but have never stayed overnight.

So today begins my countdown . . . though how I cam countdown when I don't know the end point is beyond me.

My One Pregnancy "Must-Have"

Every mommy-blog I've ever read includes a list of pregnancy "must-haves." While I found some of these lists to be helpful, I'm not going to write my own. Because there is one item, and only one item, I think is a true must have.

Palmer's Cocoa Butter.

Buy it. Use it. Love it.

Slather is over your butt, belly, boobs, and thighs and thighs after every shower. And if you don't shower every day, put it on that day anyways. Sure, everything you'll read about stretch marks indicates there is more to it than just wearing lotion every day. Many will tell you that your genes, the amount of exercise you do, the general condition of your skin when you got pregnant, etc. can contribute to the appearance of stretch marks.

Well, I didn't really exercise regularly before pregnancy. And my sister and I have the same genes and she had a ton of stretch marks and I don't.  Other than a few on my butt and two on my boob I am free and clear.

Why?

Because she did not apply cocoa butter every day. Maybe I was a bit of a nut about the whole thing, and I have always been a habitual lotion-er because I have dry skin, but I will sing the praises of cocoa-butter to anyone who will listen.

Characteristics of a Four Week Old Baby

Things I've learned about Helen in just 4 weeks:

- The act of pooping is the worst. She cries while pooping and then once it's out, bam! Whole new woman.
- A wet diaper (from pee) is the worst. The worst.
- Helen likes The Ugly Duckling, Brown Bear, Brown Bear, and Pride & Prejudice
- Sleeping on her belly is her preferred way to sleep, SIDS be damned. Even better? Sleeping on her belly on daddy.
- Helen is a little lukewarm on the whole pacifier thing . . .
- She can already hold her head up pretty well. If only it wasn't so dang heavy!
- J and I are confident she will crawl pretty early. Sure, we might be biased, but she already kicks her legs so much and actively tries to push against whatever she's laying on. Sometimes when I get her up from napping she has kicked so much she's actually rotated her little body around in a half-circle.
- She eats as if it's her last meal. Every. Time.
- She is totally okay with being fed from a bottle. Which is so reassuring to this soon-to-be working again Momma.
- She snores ever so slightly, just like her Momma :-)

Mom & Baby: An Outing

So Friday morning rolls around. It's time for my four week check up at the OB. Helen and I are headed out of the house together, just the two of us, for the first time. We'd driven places already, but only with Daddy at the wheel. Suffice it to say, Momma was a little nervous.

But we made it! Out of the apartment, in to the car seat, to the office, out of the car, in to the stroller, in the waiting room, in to the appointment room . . . all without even waking from our morning nap. Doctor comes in, we chat for a bit, and just before getting to the exam portion of the program, we burst in to tears because we peed our pants (did I mention Helen hates to have a wet diaper?).

Luckily my doctor's sweet nurse came in and held crazy pants while we he finished up.

After changing Helen's diaper I got her back in the car and made it over to work without any incident. Then we swiftly turned our paperwork in to the HR office, visited with friends who wanted to meet Helen, and proceeded to get all strapped in to the car and head home.

And then.

Key.

Ignition.

Turn.

Nothing . . . the car wouldn't start.

I was able to get jumped after calling J and the security office at work. I just thank my lucky stars I was at my office with plenty of helpful, nice people who know me to assist. There I was with a four-week-old baby and car that wouldn't start. Replacing the battery is another story . . . as is the hole in the muffler of our other car we discovered that night. When it rains, it pours, right?

You'll Miss This When They're Bigger . . . Um, No, No I won't.

Everyone and their mother (and my mother) has said some reiteration of "you'll miss the newborn stage!"

Um, no. No, I definitely won't. I didn't like roommates in college who think midnight to three a.m. is the perfect time to be awake. I certainly won't miss a ravenous little baby who thinks 3 a.m. is playtime. I don't care if she's awake to eat at night or because her diaper is dirty, but just wanting to be awake? Eeeeek.

Being awake during those hours has given me new perspective on kids and family. I might max out after two of these little buggers . . . as cute as they are. I am sure my struggles are small compared to some (every new mother has her battle), but man if this doesn't change my whole "wanting a big family" shtick.

I Think My Baby is Nocturnal

I swear, my child is as nocturnal as a bat. Nighttime means very little to Helen and I can't figure out how to get her her sleeping at night.

As I write this she is sleeping soundly, and has been for the past hour and a half. This morning she slept from 9:30 to noon (as did I). She has sort of developed a pattern, as she's slept during those hours for the past five days . . . but boy I wish I could get her to sleep like that at night.

I think it's a matter of me outlasting her. Last night was better in that I was able to make it back in to my bed for an hour and a half, instead of just passing out on the couch with her in my arms. Here's hoping tonight is even better and I make it to my bed more than once. Because shoot, she'll never get a sibling if I can't even sleep in the same bed as my husband.

"Required" Reading for New Moms

Below is a list of books I have found wonderfully helpful during the past three weeks of motherhood. I'm sure you will too.*

- Breastfeeding for Beginners: How I Got Mom-Ass in Under Three Weeks
- How to Piss Off Your Child in Ten Seconds or Less,  a Memoir on Trying to Poop in Peace
- Three-Week-Old Baby Skills: Pooping, Sneezing, & Spitting Down Your Shirt
- The Ten Second Diaper Change Debunked
- Walking Off the Baby Weight, Even When It's 100 Degrees
- It's All Relative: Designing a Schedule that Works for You and Your Baby
- How to Get Baby to Sleep Through the Night, or, How to Never Sleep in Your Own Bed Again
- Friend or Foe: Baby Gadgets Examined
- Missing Your OB: How to Accept the Non-Break-Up-Break-Up
- Combating Stretch Marks, An Ode to Cocoa Butter

*none of these are actual books.

First Thoughts

These are some of my first thoughts from early motherhood when I was bleary eyed and exhausted at 3 a.m.

When it's 3 o'clock in the morning and you've been a mother for all of four days, it's hard not to start thinking. As I sat there, tired, bleary-eyed, and achy, I thought to myself "wow, my mother really loved me."

I'm sure every new mom comes to this realization at some point, but boy did it hit me there other night. Especially when I think about the fact that my sister was only one year old when I was born. How my parents managed two children, while my Dad was working 12 hours night shifts as a rookie cop I can't imagine. On the one hand, it reassures me that we (J and I) will be alright. No matter how hard we think this whole newborn thing might be, it could always be harder. Sure, Helen might be screaming her head off at 3 o'clock in the morning because she hates diaper changes, but she is healthy, eating well, and developmentally right where she is supposed to be.

An Epidural-less Childbirth

Soon after discovering I was pregnant I began to think about labor. I've never thought of myself as someone with a high pain tolerance and I was a little worried.

Like most women I planned to get an epidural.

Spoiler alert: I didn't. And here is why.

You see, as my pregnancy progressed I grew increasingly worried about being induced and less worried about the actual labor bit. My sister had recently given birth to my nephew after being induced, my cousin was induced with her baby, a close friend of mine was induced . . . pretty much everyone was induced. And all of them received epidurals. And everyone had painful labors (yes, all labor is painful, I know that).

Being induced seemed pretty terrible. From all the aforementioned women had told me, the contractions were super close together and wicked painful. When we took the birthing class at our hospital the instructor told us that 85% of women who came through the hospital received one an epidural. The videos made it seem like only hippies and crazy people skipped the pain meds. The instructor highly recommended having a "birth plan" if we wanted to try without drugs. From my perspective, epidural women still came out the other end with a beautiful baby. The women who went without didn't receive a star on the mom-walk-of-fame. Skipping pain meds didn't guarantee you a happier, healthier baby and I left class thinking I'd be part of that 85%.

Before the birthing class I had thought maybe I'd only get one if I was induced. But since I wasn't interested in making a birth plan (the idea of making a plan for something with so many unknown variables seemed pretty damn stupid to me) and everyone else was doing it, I threw my hands up and said sure thing.

Flash forward to 1 a.m. on a Friday morning (three days before my August 4th due date). I wake up to pee. I get back in bed. Twenty minutes later I swear I peed my pants. So I use the bathroom, change my underwear and hop back in to bed. After all my worrying and anxiety about induction it it took a while to dawn on me that my water probably broke. It didn't matter to me that my doctor had checked my cervix that day and I was dilated 3 centimeters. My sister was dilated at 3 cm for weeks before still needing induced. Genes are everything, right?

Walking to the bathroom for the third time to change my underwear, a distinct fluid trickles down my leg. I hop in to the shower and stand there, nervously laughing with my now awake husband. We called labor and delivery and by 3 a.m. we were checked in to triage where they confirm I am indeed leaking amniotic fluid. This step seemed pretty unnecessary to me . . . I'd lost a hell of a lot of fluid by the time I'd stepped out of the shower to leave for the hospital.

Once we were moved from triage to a labor and delivery suite my contractions started without much fuss. Don't get me wrong, they hurt like the dickens, but not nearly as badly as I'd anticipated. As someone with no soft spot in my heart for needles or hospitals in general, I was surprised by my own ease at the whole experience. J would say I'm downplaying my own strength, but the contractions weren't as difficult as I thought they would be. I don't really know how else to put it. The pattern was pretty irregular and our labor and delivery nurse (who deserves her own post of praise) was continually pleased with my progress and ability to tolerate pain. Sure, J and I didn't come in with a "birth plan" to deal with pain, but we'd always worked really well together. J was constantly at my side helping me breathe and focus on something else. We walked the halls together, tried various positions, and put heat on my back.

Eventually we talked to the anesthesiologist on call. She was shocked to learn I was almost 7 cm dilated and was not only standing and talking to her, but had yet to have any pain meds. When she explained the epidural process to us, she also told us that receiving one is a very American thing to do. Worldwide the rates for receiving one are much lower than here. Though she didn't tell us anything surprising, we weren't convinced an epidural was necessary.

Maybe it was the way J was looking at me, maybe it was a result of sudden inner mom strength, or maybe it was the fact that I was impressing the staff, but whatever it was I knew an epidural wasn't for me.

Please don't take this to mean I've become a naturalistic hippie who hates modern medicine. The next time I have a baby could be totally different and I might be in excruciating pain. But for little baby Helen, I simply didn't need it. Did I cry for my mom during the two hours of pushing? Did I pray and wish for it to be over? Of course. But I made it through and now I'm oddly proud of myself. Or, rather, I'm proud of us. Because I'm sure I couldn't have done it alone.

More Thoughts from 3 a.m.

I can't decide who cried more last night, me or the baby.

Labor was a breeze compared to crying uncontrollably while your child eats and eats and eats and eats at 3 o'clock in the morning.

At least I can rest (ha, what a joke) assured she's gaining weight and healthy.

Things 3 A.M. Has Taught Me (thus far)

While nursing my 4 day old daughter at 3 o'clock I was struck by the urge to e-mail my best friend. Sure, she knew little Helen had arrived, but the details were left for another time.

So I thought about all the things 3 a.m. was teaching me and sent her this short list:

- You are never as tired as you think you are. Dante might have outlined ten circles of hell, but there are infinite levels of tired.

- Helen hates wet diapers. Not poopy diapers. Wet diapers.

- Breast milk burps are smelly. Who knew? Having never considered my daughter would have bad breath, given that she's certainly not eating garlic and onions regularly, her rancid milk breath took me by surprise.

- I've always heard women say the pains of labor are easily forgotten, and while I partially agree, the after labor pains are not. I'd rather take 14 hours of labor and be done than over a week of intense cramping and backaches from nursing. (I say this as a woman who had a very, very smooth birthing experience).

- Helen is cute as a bug, even when she's projectile pooping on the wall.