I'd be lying if I said that the transition from being cheerfully childless to motherhood has been a smooth one. My life is so radically different that is almost as if I woke up in an alternate universe.
I really loved the life I had before. I loved being able to pick up and go somewhere on a moment's notice. Loved the freedom to take a course or sit and write or stay up all night hanging out with friends. I had a few lovers, each unique and wonderful, each aware of each other and my love of them all. Even with death and dying in my family, such heavy subjects, I felt a lightness of being. I felt free from all the constraints I'd placed on myself over the years. I'd finally grown up and become fully me. And then my female best friend goaded me into recognizing that I'd fallen in love with M and accepting his invitation to move in with him. He supported me after my grandfather's death. We traveled. I supported him through a grueling start-up. We bought a house. And then I got pregnant out of the blue.
Yes, I miss my old life. I'm giving myself permission to miss it, and to come to terms with the changes and the challenges.
The loss of my independence has been the most difficult to adapt to. It would probably be easier if M and I had family closer by, or if I had more friends in the area, because I could call on them to spot me for things like doctor appointments or haircuts or shopping. As it is, I have to pack the Little Man up and bring him everywhere I go. It can be an ordeal even if it's just to go weed outside. I find it damned inconvenient that I can't just climb up onto a ladder to clear the gutters or empty the dishwasher or take a shower without having to make some sort of provision for my son, especially now that he is crawling around and has figured out how to open cabinets and drawers. And really, there's nothing relaxing about showering listening to a baby howl with displeasure because he's trapped in a walker or a bouncer or otherwise restricted in movement. At best, I get to shower every other day. Any longer than that and the smell of baby puke and sour milk and my own body gets to me.
I miss being able to focus on myself. Before I got pregnant, I was determined to get down to a normal weight range and I made good progress. In having a baby at my age I made a further commitment to being healthy and fit. I'm down 100 pounds in the past 2.5 years. I really want to drop another 30 pounds but I've hit a plateau and my visits to the gym are too infrequent. I try working out at home but the Little Man either wants to participate or wander off. It's rather difficult to monitor him while tying to make sure I don't pull a muscle or otherwise injure myself due to inattentiveness. My doctor says I've done amazingly well and I should focus on maintenance more than further weight loss. He says he's concerned that my focus on dropping more weight will become sabotaging if I get too discouraged. Meanwhile, I'm fighting this near-constant "I'm hungry" feeling that the doc says to feed with warm water. I'm almost chronically under-hydrated since I started breast-feeding, and even after my milk dried up I still struggle to drink enough water -- I'm just too busy playing mommy.
The changes that pregnancy and childbirth have wrought on my body have mostly been awful. My body still doesn't feel like it belongs to me. I often find myself walking funny because there is a cramp in my pelvic area, usually the hip-flexor muscle, I think. My ass aches when I get up after sitting for a while. My lower abdominal muscles, while never particularly strong, seem to resist my efforts to tone them up--from the waist down I feel gelatinous. I'm ok with the changes to my breasts and nipples. I actually like them more, with the weightloss and the changes from pregnancy and lactation -- they are less lumpy than they used to be, and I'm fortunate that I didn't experience mastitis or thrush. The acid reflux and the intestinal spasms have been agonizing. Since I'm not lactating anymore I switched from Tagamet to Prilosec and it's made a world of difference. Now there is occasional discomfort rather than a constant mid-level discomfort that ramped up to must-go-vomit-stomach-acid-now a few times a week, often a few times a day.
But before I sound too much like some whiny, ungrateful, unfit mother, I should say that I love my new life, too. I love the home I've made for the three of us. I'm happy here, even if I do miss my friends. I've got my patch of dirt to dig in and grow things. I am grateful that M's brilliant mind, which is what initially attracted me to him, is also attractive to so many companies here in Silicon Valley. He makes a good living and we try to live modestly on his income so we can still put money aside. Yes, I'm itching to take some courses and get myself marketable again so I can feel less dependent, but that will have to wait another year or so. I really enjoy his company and he enjoys mine. We talk to each other often, we snuggle when the baby's needs allow, and we both agree that having a baby together has made our bond deeper.
And our son! Wow, what an amazing little guy. Yes, he's teething right now and I really want to run screaming from the house after his nth meltdown, but he's got this wonderful smile and even when he's crying he tries to smile for me sometimes. He's developing so fast and he's becoming his own little person and even as I struggle not to create habits in him I'll regret later, I can't help but scoop him up and love on him. He has so much joy in him and I'm loving experiencing the world from his perspective. I'm experiencing an aspect of life that I'd never thought I would (parenthood) and while it's definitely a mixed bag, I've no regrets. I'm trying to be mindful of what I feed him, trying to keep his chemical-load to a minimum. I'm thinking about what stories I read him and what television programs he sees so I'm aware of what social and cultural norms are being passed on to him. I'm trying to create a safe space for him to grow into the person he wants to be --whatever that looks like. And seeing what a fine job some of my friends have done with their own children, I've got some good role-models and sources of of moral support.
Showing posts with label unintentional mother. Show all posts
Showing posts with label unintentional mother. Show all posts
Wednesday, April 3, 2013
Sunday, January 6, 2013
Holiday travels, losing weight, and my sweet baby boy
A month has passed since my last post. It's been a busy month.
Little Man and I came back from Puerto Vallarta with colds, but by the 20th of December it looked like we'd kicked them. Then the cold virus caught a second wind and we were both feeling lousy again, just in time for the trip to Canada.
It was below zero on both the C and the F temperature scales in Winnipeg. I wore Little Man in the Baby Bjorn most of the time, with my coat pulled around us both. He stayed warm, though his poor face got chafed from rubbing against my sweaters. Most of the fabrics I wear are soft and light so they don't bother his skin, but fabrics I can wear year-round in California can only be worn there in the summertime.
The change in climate really created sinus issues for the Little Man -- saline drops weren't working to clear him up so I ended up giving him benedryl so he could drink his milk. To make things even more interesting, my breastmilk dried up shortly after we got back from Mexico, so the poor little guy was on formula. Stinky coming out, formula is.
The visit with M's family was great. Little Man is blessed with an easy disposition so he didn't seem to mind being passed around between the 20+ people at the gathering on Christmas Day. He just needed to spend a few minutes with me every hour to re-charge and he was good. His great-grandmothers were over-joyed to see him. I'm a bit of a sap and cried when they held him.
We were inundated with gifts for the Little Man. Fortunately, we had a second suitcase that was lightly packed so we could bring most of it back with us. Lots of toys and cute little outfits. We were there a week and nearly every day we were off somewhere doing something -- Boxing Day at the Mall, seeing The Hobbit, dinner with Cousins, making sure M's mother got her fair share of time with her grandchild, etc. The nice thing about all the spare adults around was that I got some baby-free time and much-needed naps. Best of all, M's father is even better with the Little Man than he is, so I felt comfortable leaving the baby with him for a couple of hours while M showed me some of his old stomping grounds and tourist sights. I told him he was very fortunate to have grown up in a population center rather than in some small town on the Plains. The capitol of Manitoba had the financial resources to fund the education of a child prodigy, and he had access to universities and college-educated people in far larger numbers than he otherwise would have.
Thankfully, the trip home was a lot less eventful than the leg to Canada was. No cancelled / redirected flights that meant hours waiting for standby and then traveling a day later -- no, just a plane that wouldn't start because it was too cold outside. We left Winnipeg an hour late and had to run to catch our connecting flight in Denver: 40 gates wearing a baby and two shoulder bags! M waited to get the baby seat and the rollaway bag. Fortunately, the airline held the flight for 15 minutes so that we and 40 other people wouldn't be stranded. Little Man was an angel on the flights. Once again he charmed everyone around us, and he fussed very little.
It was nice to get home. My old friend Dato and his partner took advantage of the house-sitting offer which got them away from the rain and cold along the Oregon coast. It was mostly sunny and dry here, so they got to spend a couple of days exploring San Francisco. The weather in SF is always better in winter than in summer. Funny how that works :)
Now that we're home, I want to start working on getting my milk production going again, but before we do that, I need to tackle the intra-abdominal pressure that is giving me both acid reflux and constipation. It really sucks that I'd never had a problem with either until Little Man was born and now the problems are big enough to affect how I sleep, how I eat, and what medications and supplements I take. I'm pretty anemic these days, but I can't take iron or even just a multi-vitamin with iron because it really binds me up and even stool softeners and milk of magnesia can take 3 days to produce a bowel movement. I saw the doctor and we're trying a week of really upping the fiber in my diet to see if that produces desired changes, otherwise, it is on to scanning or scoping. I've a feeling something is going on in my colon -- literally -- whenever I bend over I can feel something move inside me, like the kick of a baby or the snick of a ligament being pulled and then settling back into place.
That, and I've dropped nearly 15# since Thanksgiving, without trying, and much of that time with reduced or no breastmilk production. Call me silly, but I think the milk drying up is a sign something is going on.
With regards to weightloss, I've been really good about watching my portion sizes. I ate my fair share of Christmas treats -- but not too many. A sweet-tooth was never my problem, nor was junk-food. No, I was a gourmand with portion-control issues and a serious hormonal imbalance. Lovely enough, having Little Man seems to have balanced out a lot of the hormonal weirdness of PCOS, which has made losing weight the past 7 months much easier than the prior few years. So I'm down 70# from my pre-pregnancy weight. My goal is to drop another 30# in 2013. That should put me solidly in the size 12 to 14 range and my BMI in the 20s, where it belongs, and down 160# from my highest weight in 2007. After that, it's all maintenance. I've three very good reasons to keep my weight down and be healthy and fit: me, Little Man, and M. I want to be around to see Little Man grow up and help M raise him, and given that I'll be 45 in a couple of months, its important that I take my health very seriously. I'm not 30 anymore :)
Once Little Man is over his cold I'm going to get us both on a sleep-play-feeding schedule. He's dabbling with solid foods, but I'd like to get him eating more. He's not crawling yet, but he does wriggle himself around pretty well on his belly. He's getting close to cutting a bottom tooth, I think, and he's chewing on everything he can get his hands on. He's passing things from hand-to-hand now. He knows his name. He's babbling more, and he's getting good at vocalizing when he's unhappy (grumbling) as well as laughing and cooing when he's happy. He's a fun, sweet baby, and most days I feel incredibly blessed.
2012 was an amazing year for me. Lots of changes. I've got high hopes for 2013.
Little Man and I came back from Puerto Vallarta with colds, but by the 20th of December it looked like we'd kicked them. Then the cold virus caught a second wind and we were both feeling lousy again, just in time for the trip to Canada.
It was below zero on both the C and the F temperature scales in Winnipeg. I wore Little Man in the Baby Bjorn most of the time, with my coat pulled around us both. He stayed warm, though his poor face got chafed from rubbing against my sweaters. Most of the fabrics I wear are soft and light so they don't bother his skin, but fabrics I can wear year-round in California can only be worn there in the summertime.
The change in climate really created sinus issues for the Little Man -- saline drops weren't working to clear him up so I ended up giving him benedryl so he could drink his milk. To make things even more interesting, my breastmilk dried up shortly after we got back from Mexico, so the poor little guy was on formula. Stinky coming out, formula is.
The visit with M's family was great. Little Man is blessed with an easy disposition so he didn't seem to mind being passed around between the 20+ people at the gathering on Christmas Day. He just needed to spend a few minutes with me every hour to re-charge and he was good. His great-grandmothers were over-joyed to see him. I'm a bit of a sap and cried when they held him.
We were inundated with gifts for the Little Man. Fortunately, we had a second suitcase that was lightly packed so we could bring most of it back with us. Lots of toys and cute little outfits. We were there a week and nearly every day we were off somewhere doing something -- Boxing Day at the Mall, seeing The Hobbit, dinner with Cousins, making sure M's mother got her fair share of time with her grandchild, etc. The nice thing about all the spare adults around was that I got some baby-free time and much-needed naps. Best of all, M's father is even better with the Little Man than he is, so I felt comfortable leaving the baby with him for a couple of hours while M showed me some of his old stomping grounds and tourist sights. I told him he was very fortunate to have grown up in a population center rather than in some small town on the Plains. The capitol of Manitoba had the financial resources to fund the education of a child prodigy, and he had access to universities and college-educated people in far larger numbers than he otherwise would have.
Thankfully, the trip home was a lot less eventful than the leg to Canada was. No cancelled / redirected flights that meant hours waiting for standby and then traveling a day later -- no, just a plane that wouldn't start because it was too cold outside. We left Winnipeg an hour late and had to run to catch our connecting flight in Denver: 40 gates wearing a baby and two shoulder bags! M waited to get the baby seat and the rollaway bag. Fortunately, the airline held the flight for 15 minutes so that we and 40 other people wouldn't be stranded. Little Man was an angel on the flights. Once again he charmed everyone around us, and he fussed very little.
It was nice to get home. My old friend Dato and his partner took advantage of the house-sitting offer which got them away from the rain and cold along the Oregon coast. It was mostly sunny and dry here, so they got to spend a couple of days exploring San Francisco. The weather in SF is always better in winter than in summer. Funny how that works :)
Now that we're home, I want to start working on getting my milk production going again, but before we do that, I need to tackle the intra-abdominal pressure that is giving me both acid reflux and constipation. It really sucks that I'd never had a problem with either until Little Man was born and now the problems are big enough to affect how I sleep, how I eat, and what medications and supplements I take. I'm pretty anemic these days, but I can't take iron or even just a multi-vitamin with iron because it really binds me up and even stool softeners and milk of magnesia can take 3 days to produce a bowel movement. I saw the doctor and we're trying a week of really upping the fiber in my diet to see if that produces desired changes, otherwise, it is on to scanning or scoping. I've a feeling something is going on in my colon -- literally -- whenever I bend over I can feel something move inside me, like the kick of a baby or the snick of a ligament being pulled and then settling back into place.
That, and I've dropped nearly 15# since Thanksgiving, without trying, and much of that time with reduced or no breastmilk production. Call me silly, but I think the milk drying up is a sign something is going on.
With regards to weightloss, I've been really good about watching my portion sizes. I ate my fair share of Christmas treats -- but not too many. A sweet-tooth was never my problem, nor was junk-food. No, I was a gourmand with portion-control issues and a serious hormonal imbalance. Lovely enough, having Little Man seems to have balanced out a lot of the hormonal weirdness of PCOS, which has made losing weight the past 7 months much easier than the prior few years. So I'm down 70# from my pre-pregnancy weight. My goal is to drop another 30# in 2013. That should put me solidly in the size 12 to 14 range and my BMI in the 20s, where it belongs, and down 160# from my highest weight in 2007. After that, it's all maintenance. I've three very good reasons to keep my weight down and be healthy and fit: me, Little Man, and M. I want to be around to see Little Man grow up and help M raise him, and given that I'll be 45 in a couple of months, its important that I take my health very seriously. I'm not 30 anymore :)
Once Little Man is over his cold I'm going to get us both on a sleep-play-feeding schedule. He's dabbling with solid foods, but I'd like to get him eating more. He's not crawling yet, but he does wriggle himself around pretty well on his belly. He's getting close to cutting a bottom tooth, I think, and he's chewing on everything he can get his hands on. He's passing things from hand-to-hand now. He knows his name. He's babbling more, and he's getting good at vocalizing when he's unhappy (grumbling) as well as laughing and cooing when he's happy. He's a fun, sweet baby, and most days I feel incredibly blessed.
2012 was an amazing year for me. Lots of changes. I've got high hopes for 2013.
Wednesday, August 22, 2012
Processing Motherhood
It is good to know that all the feedback I received about mother-in-laws mellowing once they meet their grandchildren is true. The visit from M's mother went very well. Better than either he or I
expected, based upon her previous visit and comments regarding the
pregnancy. Unfortunately, I had a GERD episode in the middle of her visit so I didn't get to do much with her, however, it was a blessing that she was here to take care of the Little Man while I spent the day in bed running a temp and coughing up aspirated stomach acid and phlegm. I've a feeling that my LES valve has been damaged somehow either during or after the pregnancy, because I can't lay down with anything in my stomach or it will come up. The back of M's head can testify to that, poor dear. I'm waiting to hear back from my doctor as to what to do next.
I've been (loosely) following the Dr. Sears approach to Attachment Parenting because it makes sense to me. My goal is to foster a strong sense of security in the Little Man, the kind of security that comes from trusting that the adults in his life will meet his needs. It is my hope that I'll never lose that trust, because one of the things I've been processing as I've been caring for my son are the early memories of my own mother, and my lack of trust in her.
I should state that my mom wasn't a bad mother per se... she just wasn't a good one. She wasn't very maternal or nurturing -- I recently confirmed this with her best friend from my childhood years, wanting to make sure my child's memory and Reality squared-up. Getting married and having children was, for her, the cost of freedom. Being a wife and mother, however, was not terribly interesting to her, and she put both roles behind her when I was 9. I chalk it off as a Me-Generation thing.
Anyway... I can remember as early as 4 or 5 not telling my mother about an injury because I knew she'd hurt me in the process of attending to it, and knew she wouldn't provide any comfort to offset the pain. It was not an isolated incident, either. I should have gotten stitches on that occasion, and still have the scar to remember it by. Even today I am convinced that the ugly scar is better than the care would have been.
As a consequence of my lack of trust in my parents (my VietNam Vet father was a whole other story), I had trust issues until I entered grief-therapy in my mid-Thirties. Since I know what lasting impressions parenting styles can have on children, I'm determined to create and maintain a sense of security and trust with my son -- even if it means less sleep for now :)
Several times a day, Little Man meets my eyes and smiles this special smile that causes something inside me to flutter. It's a bit like the tearful-wonder feeling I get when my milk lets down. That smile lets me know I'm doing it right, this motherhood thing. Evolution at work -- the maternal instinct is alive and well in me.
This weekend is a just-us weekend, except for a BBQ at a friend's house, and the following weekend M's father and sister arrive for a week-long visit. Fortunately for them, there really isn't much work left to be done on the house, so they'll actually get to enjoy a California vacation with the newest addition to the family. Then a week later it's my step-mother and step-sister. My step-mom is willing to stay for several days, if we want. M seems to be pretty comfortable with her, her nursy-talk about illnesses notwithstanding.
I've been (loosely) following the Dr. Sears approach to Attachment Parenting because it makes sense to me. My goal is to foster a strong sense of security in the Little Man, the kind of security that comes from trusting that the adults in his life will meet his needs. It is my hope that I'll never lose that trust, because one of the things I've been processing as I've been caring for my son are the early memories of my own mother, and my lack of trust in her.
I should state that my mom wasn't a bad mother per se... she just wasn't a good one. She wasn't very maternal or nurturing -- I recently confirmed this with her best friend from my childhood years, wanting to make sure my child's memory and Reality squared-up. Getting married and having children was, for her, the cost of freedom. Being a wife and mother, however, was not terribly interesting to her, and she put both roles behind her when I was 9. I chalk it off as a Me-Generation thing.
Anyway... I can remember as early as 4 or 5 not telling my mother about an injury because I knew she'd hurt me in the process of attending to it, and knew she wouldn't provide any comfort to offset the pain. It was not an isolated incident, either. I should have gotten stitches on that occasion, and still have the scar to remember it by. Even today I am convinced that the ugly scar is better than the care would have been.
As a consequence of my lack of trust in my parents (my VietNam Vet father was a whole other story), I had trust issues until I entered grief-therapy in my mid-Thirties. Since I know what lasting impressions parenting styles can have on children, I'm determined to create and maintain a sense of security and trust with my son -- even if it means less sleep for now :)
Several times a day, Little Man meets my eyes and smiles this special smile that causes something inside me to flutter. It's a bit like the tearful-wonder feeling I get when my milk lets down. That smile lets me know I'm doing it right, this motherhood thing. Evolution at work -- the maternal instinct is alive and well in me.
This weekend is a just-us weekend, except for a BBQ at a friend's house, and the following weekend M's father and sister arrive for a week-long visit. Fortunately for them, there really isn't much work left to be done on the house, so they'll actually get to enjoy a California vacation with the newest addition to the family. Then a week later it's my step-mother and step-sister. My step-mom is willing to stay for several days, if we want. M seems to be pretty comfortable with her, her nursy-talk about illnesses notwithstanding.
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