A Revelation

So I'm at my in-law's on the lake. This trip has been in the works for maybe a month and for the month I've been on the fence about it. I only really thought about how much I'd have to pack and getting Jack used to a new place and not having access to all my stuff.

But what a great day I've had, one of the best in a long time. Having people around, family members who can lend a hand or take an interest or talk to, makes a world of difference. I'm not lonely or isolated and I'm eating normal meals at normal times. I got dressed and brushed my teeth. I can enjoy my baby.

This must be what it's like when you raise a baby around family. I'm getting a taste of what that must be like, what sort of socializing and support I'd have if my mom were alive and around. The unnatural feeling I've been having, questioning my motherhood, it's gone. After one day, I feel great. I miss the Dude, who couldn't come due to work, but other than that I don't feel drained and exhausted. Rather I feel able to properly enjoy the evening rather than recover from the day.

With the weight of loneliness lifted from me, I could really appreciate Jack and all the little things he does, like gripping toys and his giggles. Today he started rolling onto his side. It was so sweet and amazing to me to see him struggle and finally succeed, and then fine tune it. Soon he'll get himself onto his tummy. Sharing this milestone with people around me who care felt good.

It's nice to know there's nothing wrong with me, only my living situation. Staying home with a baby isn't unpleasant. Doing it alone is.

Bonding

I think I've hit my stride.

The feelings of failure and being trapped and isolated have been dissipating. I have this quickly growing awareness about my baby and his needs. I can watch him as he discovers his hands and ponders the room, and allow him to direct his own attention. When he fusses I can talk to him and engage and give him comfort. When I attend to his changing and feeding needs it's calm and pleasant. His naps are predictable and have become increasingly lengthy and less interrupted.

And I feel a sense of calm and competence. My loneliness is easing. Being alone with a baby is not the same as being alone with a pump. Without it chaining me down to my bodily failures, I've managed to get out of the house and see movies, go to cafes, go on walks, talk to other people.

I've developed pleasure in watching my son play on his mat, trying his hand at grasping things and kicking his feet. He'll pump his legs in his bouncy chair to make it bounce on his own without the need for me to do it for him. Other than meet his physical needs and reading him some books and talking to him periodically through the day, I just let him be and he is so engaged with himself and his surroundings.

I feel like I've hit my groove and I know what Jack needs from me. I feel connected to him at last. I was always fond of him and was proud of his hardy little self. But the bonding was hard and now I feel it sinking into my skin; he's becoming a part of my heart.

Ready to Stop Nursing

I'm reaching that point where I want to give up breastfeeding. I knew it would come eventually. In four days, Jack will be three months to the day, and I'm feeling like I've given all I have to give in this area.

I pump all day and take meds to garner between 7 to 10 ounces of milk, plus one breastfeed in the morning. And for what? When I try to feed my son my breast milk, oftentimes he'll make a face or flat out reject it. I've been adding it to formula to trick him into it. But it's like he's getting wise to me. He'll guzzle formula down like candy, but his mother's milk is a bother to him. He'll cry at the bottle, go back for another drink and then disengage and cry again. I can't describe the feelings of frustration and rejection I feel when he does this.

When I go out I'm wearing nursing clothes, just in case I start to leak and I can try to offer Jack the breast. It's never worked out. Pointless. And I hate my nursing clothes. They were expensive so I had to buy on sale and they're really nothing special and I don't feel special in them. I want my wardrobe back. I want my body to function like normal again. I'm tired of this. Also, it's been making my teeth sensitive.

It wouldn't be so bad if he was actually on the breast and feeding. Then it would be worth it. But seriously, forcing this issue is really making motherhood less and less enjoyable for me progressively each day.

And this is on top of the isolation I'm feeling.

I'm lonely. There. I've said it. I'm mostly reliant on the Dude for social interaction during the day, and I have to wait until 6:00 or even 7:00 some days to get it. None of my friends have babies. It's been raining almost every day, keeping me in the house with someone who can't hold a conversation. His smiles are great, but I'm a grown woman. I need more.

I'm not cut out for this. And by this I mean staying at home with a baby. Even though I love him, I am not "loving every minute" like the parents police command me to. They're the ones who nod approvingly when they ask if I'm taking a year off and I say yes. I don't mind the approval, it's what follows it, the forceful assumption that of course this is best for everyone and I must be very happy.

Maybe once Jack becomes more interactive I'll be more into this stay-at-home mom experience. That, and less rain chaining me inside my house.

And admittedly, I have a good baby. The problem really is who I am, which is not a baby person. And also the lack of family in the area. Grandparents would be a godsend. But they're all hours away. In many ways I just feel so alone. I miss my social life. I wouldn't give up Jack for anything. I don't regret my choice. I knew the first year would be very hard on me. But it still hurts.

Maybe removing breastfeeding failures from my daily life will improve things.

What Is A Natural Mother?

Most New Moms Don't Feel Like Natural Mothers

I relate to this. I relate to it so much it made me cry. It speaks to me because I don't feel like a mother. I know I spend my day caring for a little person who is very cute and whom makes me smile. I have an instinctual need to tend to him and his needs. I worry about his wellbeing. I take pride in his growth and development.

But do I feel like a mother? Do I feel like I'm a good mother, even?

These are questions I find harder to answer.

There's an entire internet of people out there piping in about how babies should be raised according to their standards ("If you're not going to stay home with your kids, why did you bother having any?"). There's a whole industry devoted to telling you how it should be done (Breast is best. No screen time until they're 2 years old. Soothers are to be avoided. Let them cry it out. Don't let them cry it out. etc.") There's another section of the community at large that says having kids is either a waste of time or a choice you should be alone in handling ("Why should my taxes pay for daycare subsidies? I don't have kids. If you can't afford kids, don't have them!")

And that leaves new mothers like me feeling adrift.

I have no one here with me. So I turn on the TV because as much as I'm supposed to be talking to my baby so he'll develop language, he doesn't talk back. It's very one-sided. I need to hear adult voices. If I can't have adult conversation, I need to at least listen to it. Sometimes Jack watches with me. So, no more Criminal Minds. But there goes the "no screen time" recommendation. It's just not doable, not if my sanity counts for anything.

I'm having troubles with breastfeeding. Not ready to give it up entirely yet, but doing a combination of both is giving me extra challenges. My breasts leak all over me, yet my baby doesn't want to feed on them most of the time. I have to pack formula with me whenever I go somewhere, yet I still need to wear nursing clothes to give him the chance to eat from me first. I'm cleaning bottles and a pump, and taking the time to feed him with the bottles and pumping afterwards.

And I try to read advice on the internet about how to make this more manageable. I want to read other mother's experiences. What I consistently find is lactivists piping in asking why use formula at all? Have you tried Fenugreek? Have you called a lactation specialist? Breast is best! None of which is remotely helpful.

Then there's the fact I'm not a baby person. I love children. I think they're great. I love spending time with kids, hours on end. I enjoyed babysitting as a teenager and I was good at it. I didn't choose to have a baby for the experience of having a baby. I'm doing this for a child one day. Caring for a baby is exhausting and demanding. I knew it would be hard, but living through it is the only way to really appreciate the fatigue.

I'm looking forward to going back to work. Mostly I think my son would be better off in a daycare through the week. I feel like I'm not the best place for him day in and day out. I'm not cut out for this. At a daycare he'd have a solid routine, socialization, a rotation of toys and caregivers who are talented, educated and experienced in his age group. Then in the evening he'd be with his dad and me, we'd have quality time and then on the weekends we would be able to have fun together. Working from home would help me stay on top of housework too, freeing up time at night like I used to be able to.

There just seems to be something unmotherly about this feeling that I'm biding my time till Jack is a child. The thought of hearing him call me "Mommy" brings tears to my eyes. But I'm so grateful to women who have the guts to share things like the above article. There's too many loud voices telling mothers to cherish every moment. There needs to be more saying, "It's okay to feel inadequate and bored with certain stages. It's normal and it doesn't make you a bad mother."

Movies For Mommies

Today was my first Movies For Mommies, which meant for the first time since Jack was born I've been able to go to the movies. The movies! I loves me some going to see a flick. It's one of my favourite things to do. I saw Man Of Steel at the Humber Theatre. There are several independent theatres that do MFM and this was conveniently located off a subway with an elevator. Elevators have become extremely important to me as of late.

As soon as I sat down my baby began to cry and I immediately felt like that mother. But after a feed, buddypants calmed down and slept a wonderful 90 minutes, enabling me to both enjoy the movie and feel gratitude that the other crying babies, for a time, weren't mine. The final 15-20 minutes were spent on my feet holding Jack and swaying and dancing, keeping him calm so I could catch the end of the film. And no one thought this was strange or disruptive because we were all in the same boat.

You wouldn't think a theatre full of babies would be a calming place to be but it was. Every time a baby cried out or cooed it wasn't annoying, but rather a reassurance that if your baby did the same thing it wouldn't be a big deal. Babies that carried on were carried out. There was a changing station at the entrance, which was helpful. There was an accessible bathroom that had tons of room for my stroller.

And I got out of the house. I have another outing on Wednesday where I get to meet other moms for coffee. I've been to this meet-up twice before and I've already started seeing familiar faces. I'm hoping to make friends, though I'm terrible at doing do. Keeping friends? Sure. I can do that. Making them? Well, that's always taken a lot of time. I never know when or how to progress a new acquaintance. In fact, all my friendships seem almost accidental or extensions pre-existing friends.

And it's not like I'm hurting for friends. The ones I have are wonderful and close. I can be myself and relax in their company. It's just there is a gulf now. I can talk to my friends about my baby, but sometimes I want to run by some things with people who've been there, or talk "shop" to someone in the know. Kind of like how work is sometimes only interesting to other co-workers and can bore people who don't do the same thing. I'm cognizant of this and so I really limit my baby talk around those who don't have one.

Around other new parents this kind of talk is free flowing. Daycares, anxieties, birth experiences, hard days, night time wake-ups, everything is okay. I'd really like a mom friend or two, someone I can relate to not just as a mother, but also as a person, someone on the same wavelength.

But even if these outings don't lead to new friendships, it does lead to a happier, healthier me. Reasons to leave the house are good for me. I've spent a week at home and it's pretty bad for my mental health. I don't think we're meant to raise our children in such solitude or isolation. Good thing I don't live in the burbs.

Stay At Home Mom Validation

The rain is unending. Why even bother wash your hair so you can look presentable when you're not going to leave the house and enter into the soggy mess that is the outdoors? I mean, I like that I don't have to water my zucchini and everything, but I would like to make a trip out with Jack at some point.

I did get to see my friends yesterday. The McPal house threw a tea party and the four of us (Tea party regulars) enjoyed the decent weather in the backyard amongst scones, sandwiches and custard tarts. It was my first visit with friends without my baby. I didn't ache with missing him either. I needed the break and it was guilt-free. I have a wonderful group of friends and spending the afternoon with them was restorative.

When I got home, the Dude was full of validation and praise for how I spend my days. Though I was only gone a little over five hours, about half the time I have Jack on my own each day, he was exhausted. Child care, he realized first hand, is challenging and makes one very tired. It's easier to go to work. At least at work if you need to take five minutes and clear your head or eat a snack, you can. At his job there is a catered lunch and designed time to sit down and eat it. With a baby, just going to the bathroom has to wait.

I sort of suspected that, despite his positive hands-on attitude towards being a dad and his willingness to give the nightly bath and change diapers, he didn't really get it. He thought going to work could be as tiring as staying home with a baby, and I knew this to be false, as I've had a number of different jobs in my life and none compare. But now he understands. I really feel he does. And this improves my mood.

The Dude's attitude has also undergone a slight shift. He came home with a headache, took some Advil and spent time with his son and gave me my break. Before, I think he would have said he needed to lie down, not realizing I was in need of relief.

At the three month mark is when things are supposed to turn a corner and a baby is likely to be more predictable in a routine and easier to take out. I certainly hope so. I love my boy and I like being home, but even I have my limits.

Hermit Mom

I haven't left the house in four days.

I am not evening kidding.

The entire week it's been rainy and gross, and I can tell you that while going out in dreary weather is a bummer under normal circumstances, with a baby and a stroller you have to disassemble to get in and out of your home, it's a nonstarter. Why bother? It's dry in here and the temperature is stable. Out there is a recipe for a terrible experience.

So I'm spending day in and out in jammies, pumping my breasts (Which have begun to produce a little more lately. Score!) and trying to discern a routine. At this point I want to know what's going on rather than react to Jack's cries. I want to know right away what his damage is so I can address it.

And lo and behold, I think it's starting to happen. I've realized he takes three naps a day lasting from 45 minutes to two hours. He eats every three hours. He needs a change every 2-3 hours. He likes to spend time staring off at things, but he sends signals when he wants interaction. When he starts to grumble now, I can almost always guess what he wants. So, I don't think all this home time has been a waste. When I'm out I'm not observing him. When I'm home, I pay more attention to the details.

I've been thinking about the Dude's role in all this. He's been the sort of partner I need. I've heard so many stories about husbands not pulling their weight, not partaking in the childcare enough, not doing housework. The Dude isn't home enough to do a lot of childcare, but when he is, Jack gets quality dad time.

The Dude does the bath routine, which Jack loves. He changes diapers. If he has to get up earlier to do something for the baby, he does it. He does the dishes and makes dinner. He does the yard work. He cleans the cat litter. On the weekends he takes the baby in the morning so I can sleep in, and then does a big clean after I wake.

Babies can strain a marriage, but I think with the right partner, and being the right partner, two people can make it work. Of course, having a mellow baby really, really helps. Jack truly is the kind of baby I'd always hoped I'd have.

Look at that little face!

Easy Baby In Da House

There is a certain isolation to being a new mother. Though I'm lucky I'm an introverted person and I can happily sustain long periods of time alone, there comes a point where I need conversation. The Dude is my first go-to. I start looking forward to him coming home around 4:00 or so. Sometimes he's not home till nearly 7:00. Then he's usually tired, I'm tired and Jack is not.

We've done brunch a few times, often with Buddy B and his fiancee. It's a nice thing to look forward to: an easy trip to a restaurant in the neighbourhood with friends, Jack's not too taxed, I get out of the house and socialize and then come home. I don't need much anymore, just some conversation and a reason to get dressed and I can feel as though my day has been very good.

Something kind of amazing happened the night before last that didn't repeat last night: Jack slept through the night. He's not even eight weeks old yet and he slept from 9:00 till 7:00. Like, seriously. Not at all what we were expecting. Getting that kind of sleep was unreal. I'd forgotten what it was like not to wake up and feed him. Thing is, my breasts were so full I watched the right one leak all over me while I nursed with the left.

Everyone assures me there will be a turning point around three months. I'll get out more, Jack will fall into a routine with naps and now that he's slept through one night, I'm beginning to see it happening. I can believe it.

He really is a good baby. I'm grateful for him. The baby fairies don't hand out wee ones like this to everybody. The kid sleeps and eats and burps and otherwise is fairly content. The Dude and I only want one. Not only can we not comfortably afford two, or really desire a big family anyway, but we're pretty sure that if we had a second child there would be some sort of a reckoning for this easy baby (And I mean comparatively easy, not easy generally).

I'm thinking once his naps are more predictable, I may try writing my novel again. I have gained significantly more life experience as of late and I think I'll have more now to put into my story. And hopefully, if all goes well, I'll have the time to do it.

Amnesia

Something resembling a routine is developing around this place. Jack's getting a bath, fresh jammies and is put in his vibrating swaying swing to fall asleep around 8:00. He'll wake briefly, fall back asleep, and otherwise stay quiet and out until his one night feed at 3:00 or 4:00. It's not bad.

All the same, it's tiring. My feelings for my baby grow each day and I enjoy his smiles and little facial expressions. But it's not mentally stimulating to care for a newborn. Going hours and hours without a break or being able to eat when hungry, but rather when I can, is hard on the system. Trying to pump without an extra pair of hands to tend to a fussy baby is frustrating. When your baby only wants to nap on your lap all day, better hope you don't have to pee.

I'm not going to be a stay-at-home mom. Bless the people who love this sort of thing, but I'm not one of them. Though I value that I can stay home. I'm grateful for the parental leave laws in this country. Just... this isn't who I am. My baby and motherhood have been working their way into my identity, weaving permanence in my soul, but though I felt called to have a child, I don't feel the same compulsion to devote my everyday life to his care.

And yet I think at this super young stage the idea of not being the one to care for him would break my heart. It's strange. I need breaks, time away and I occasionally feel burnt out by the sheer magnitude of everything that's needed from me. Sometimes it's just my presence. Jack's becoming more aware of me and has developed more emotional needs that are mom-specific. In the earliest weeks, he didn't care who did what so long as he was fed. Now he prefers his mother to do it.

It's an intriguing thing to be needed, like, really needed. I've been or felt needed in various ways before, but this is the first time in my life that it's been a concrete and normal part of a relationship. I give and baby takes. If I get a smile, that's great. If not, no matter. Still have to give. It's not like anything else.

I find myself thinking about my son a lot, as an older child, asking me questions, playing at the park. I wonder how I'll remember this time. A lot of mothers say they get amnesia about this stage.

Breast Not Best

Breastfeeding sort of sucks. It's also very handy. And I like it, and also I really resent it.

Obviously I have some ambivalent emotions surrounding it.

I both breastfeed and formula feed. My son is on the big side and the two times I've tried to do boob only, he's lost weight. So to hell with it, right? I mean, despite the literature lactivists will write about supply and demand and how low supply is rare, I know it's happened to me.

There's cultural pressure to breast feed. I've had a number of loved ones tell me it's okay to quit and just formula feed, but I'm not ready. But it's hard researching the topic looking for tips and tricks only to read how breast is best and formula can't compare and it's just soooo important to breastfeed no matter what. When you're formula feeding, it can hurt your feelings and make you feel bad about yourself as a mother.

When I was in the hospital five days after Jack was born, my midwives were seriously worried I'd lose my milk, and maybe develop postpartum depression after everything. I managed to avoid both of those things, but the milk thing was actually the tougher battle. I've experienced hardships before. A traumatic birth wasn't the worst I've had. Worst I've had in my adult years, but not in life.

I can nurse my son when he wakes at 3:00 or 4:00 a.m. Luckily, he's falling asleep around 9:00 or 10:00 most nights and that one wake-up is all I have to tangle with. I can give him my breast, he takes his fill and goes back to sleep like a champ. Around 7:00 I can usually feed him again, though a bottle is often necessary as well.

And after that? Formula. Formula and pumping. It's sort of an imposition. I'm trying to reduce my feeding costs with breast milk, and it's physically much more simple to do. No bottles to fiddle with, boiled water, measuring scoops and burping afterwards. But God, it's a struggle.

It feels pretty rough when your own baby rejects your breast, sometimes even when it's full of milk. So on top of a feed, I have to find the time to pump so I don't lose what milk supply I have. And I have to take meds and herbs as well. I don't think I could maintain my milk without this rather tiring regiment.

When this all started I felt like a dud. Sometimes I still do. I couldn't birth my baby and now my body can't feed my baby. Being a father would be so much simpler. Dads can't do any of these things and so don't have to face bodily failures. Being a dad comes with its own set of concerns, but when you've just become a mother and you need artificial means to bring your baby into the world and keep it alive, you feel a sense of sadness. It's a loss.

So I'm looking for small victories. A bottle of breast milk a day is my new goal. I usually need a few days to get four ounces out of pumping, but now I'm trying to decrease the time to one day. More breast milk = money saved and health benefits.

There is a simplicity to being at home all day with a baby, but all that simplicity is rife with complexities.

An added example is leaving the house for a walk. No biggie, right? Well, putting aside the stocking of a diaper bag and changing and feeding Jack before leaving the house, I have to deal with a stroller that needs to be taken down the stairs in two parts after locking the three doors that lead into the apartment. I've gotten faster at it, but still. I also have to get myself ready to leave, and depending on Jack's mood, this could take some time.

Actually, I have to finish this up and pump now. Jack's asleep. I may not get a better chance.

Mother's Day

Usually on Mother's Day I feel a little introspective. I think about my mother and perhaps write about my feelings.

I wrote this in 2006:
My dad's 50th birthday fell on Mother's Day this year. Jamie and I took him out to dinner after dad took me to the gravesite.

It rained and we couldn't find the grave for what felt like forever. When we finally did locate it, it was as though it had been hiding on purpose because how could we ever have missed it?

I said a few words to Mom and didn't linger. I was cold and there isn't a lot to say to engraved stone. It chilled me to think of her down there. Sometimes I get something out of going, this time it didn't make me feel very good.

I've been feeling quiet all weekend. Just, unable to really talk because I don't have conversation in me. I want to talk about how I'm feeling but at the same time I don't. I've been feeling lonely.

I really miss my mother. I'm crying in my apartment and I can hear my sobbing echoing just a bit. It feels so empty. I can feel the loss pretty acutely right now. Sometimes that happens. Sometimes I just feel how bad it hurts to not have her around and how lonely it makes me feel.

There is no one like your mother in the world, no one who knows you like she does and loves you like she does. No one. I feel a little lost without that. Where are the phone calls and advice and hugs and encouragement? They're nowhere. They're dead.

It can make you feel so in need of something you know you can't have. No one can replace her or what she gave me and what I'm missing, no matter how close another woman is to me. I hate Mother's Day.

I wrote this in 2003:

Another Mother's Day has come and gone. For those of us without mothers, it can be a hard day or an easy day, depending on how you feel.

I have in the past ignored Mother's Day since my grandmother died. She was the last mother I had so why bother paying it any attention?

Today I fought back tears while I was vacuuming the second floor in the tower. It all came back to me. Her funeral mass mostly. Seeing the three priests, Father Stan from school, Father Whalen with the heavenly voice and Father Tim who had seen Mom through her illness to the end, praying over her body and for her soul and for us.

Girls from school who saw me choking out tears and hugged me while I was slumped over the pew. Seeing the head boy look at me and pass me without a word, making it obvious he was there on business alone, which did not surprise me.

Her coffin that I had chosen for her being wheeled out of the church with Aunt Debbie walking in between Jamie and I as we cried and watched. We were clutching each other as we watched the box move forward; it was unbelievable that it was holding the body of my mother.

My cousin David and I making eye contact and I knew that he felt bad for me. I knew everyone did. I also knew that everyone in that church, save the the two others in the aisle, were thankful that they weren't me.

My dad trying to push his way into the aisle, trying to make his place in the proceedings. Me pushing him away and continuing, not allowing him to join. He was not there, he had no right to walk with us. We were the closest family she had and the ones she loved most. I couldn't let him in.

Watching my mother being put into the ground. Only a hazy memory. The only thing I can say is that I know I was there.

Lying in my cousin Christina's bed at the reception. Everyone crowding around me. I know I can say anything I want. I could get away with anything. All I want is to go to sleep with the people I have around me. I feel so alone. I need comfort but no one can give me what I need. I barely know what I need.

And I blink back my tears on the second floor in the tower and keep vacuuming. I've paid tribute to her and I have to get on with my day. And then I have to get on with my life. And then I pray I will have children to bring this day some new meaning for me.

And now that day is here. I spent the day at the spa, relaxing and giving myself a chance to miss my baby. And I did miss him. When I got home, I was looking forward to seeing his little face, which has begun giving me smiles. The Dude had a video to show me of Jack' smiles that he took while I was out. My milk let down while I was watching it. Funny hormonal tricks show you in physical terms that you are attached to your little baby.

He's sleeping in a new swaying swing that we bought recently. It's been a dream this evening, saving us from the Fussy Francis he usually becomes these days between 7:00 and 10:00. He's six weeks old tomorrow and it's kind of hard to put that time into perspective. I can't believe it's been only six weeks, and yet his birth seems so long ago. It's a blur.

I told myself I wouldn't expect much from the first three months, that they'd be hard and unenjoyable. But I undersold the experience. I'm tired, but there's joy. Caring for a newborn all day can be tedious, but there's a relaxing rhythm to it, under it all. It's work, but there's meaning behind it and you can slowly see things change and develop. And I know it'll get better.

Stalled

I really need to get my ass out of the house.

There are certain things about me that are work-adverse. For example, in this current situation, to leave the house I have to organize my baby. He needs to eat, be changed, in clean clothes and the diaper bag needs to be stocked. Then I have to put him in the car seat (Which slots into the stroller frame) and carry the frame outside and down the stairs and unfold it. Then I need to carry the car seat down the stairs and put it in the frame. This all takes an hour. An hour before I can leave my home.

So I mostly just stay here. I leave for appointments, but otherwise I wait for the Dude to be home because carrying the stroller stuff around is quick and easy for him, while I'm still slow because I'm weak from my recovery. Plus he can stock the bag while I feed the baby. He can shave half the time off what it takes to exit the premises. I'm envious sometimes of his general ability to leave efficiently. He's just faster, and I'm the one who's home all day.

Not that I'd prefer it the other way around. It wouldn't work anyway. If I'm working, the baby can't be in the house. So a lot of good that would do. Though the Dude is a nurturing kind of guy. He'd do well around here.

So, to get my sorry dilapidated butt in gear, I've signed up to attend a mom meet-up in a nearby neighbourhood next week. It's time I met some other new mothers. It's a weird thing to be, a mom. One day you aren't, the next you are. Frequently it doesn't occur to me that this change has happened. Oh, I don't forget I have a baby, but the addition of "mom" to my identity is what hasn't sunken in. I think of moms and I think of my mom, or other moms I know, not myself. I write about motherhood all the time, but in my day-to-day life it's been a slow mental shift.

Though I'm eagerly looking forward to Mother's Day. For one thing, I relish the thought of a day just for me in this house. For another, it'll be the first time since my mom died that the day won't be about pain and sadness. I'll have some joy. But it'll still have some sadness. I try not to think too much about what my mom is missing right now. That may be harder to do on Mother's Day. It usually is.

Go To Sleep

You spend nine months pregnant, sometimes you can spend nine months trying to get pregnant, and I'm pretty sure that after a baby is born you spend the next nine months-plus trying to make the baby go to sleep. Oh, you love him. You think he's cute. His little smiles and coos charm you. But still, you want him to sleep so you can sleep or watch something good on TV or eat something hot.

My little piggy is sleeping in the bouncy chair while it vibrates, after a successful brunch outing with friends and then an additional outing with his dad. Of course he fussed at home and wanted an extraordinary amount of food that as per usual my body couldn't provide in full, but now he's quiet and all is well. And the Dude is out getting us Nutella lattes from some cafe that apparently sell such things.

I've been thinking about what kind of mother I'm going to be, and want to be, and every time I do I envision an older kid. I'm just not a baby person. I wouldn't trade my own for anything, mind you, but I'm really just biding my time for the real deal, a child. I want a child. In a way I'm almost there. I endured the pregnancy, and I'm going with the flow of newborn life. Soon he'll be more interactive and that's one step away from toddlerhood, which is the bridge to being a child.

Oh, I'm told all the time to "Cherish every minute" and that's all well and good, but I was also told to love my pregnancy and I wanted to tell those people to stuff it. I don't have to cherish my baby's inability to communicate if I find it frustrating. I don't have to be fulfilled from close contact with his urine, vomit and fecal matter. I don't need to love the fact he needs loads of help to pass his own gas and will cry until he does. I can love him without finding all that stuff wonderful, quite easily.

I have memories of things my mom did for us as kids: trips to the park, Friday movie and pizza night, day trips to the white sands beach. I'm going to wait till Jack's four or so to take him to bigger things like the zoo or an amusement park. It doesn't seem worthwhile if he's not going to remember it and the Dude and I will be faced with his dirty diapers and crying in public places for apparently no reason. But once he's old enough, I can't wait. And Toronto has so much. There's High Park, Riverdale Farm, Toronto Zoo, Canada's Wonderland, Ontario Science Centre, Centre Island, and also an aquarium is coming to town.

Growing up in a much smaller city, my mom still found ways to make life interesting. One day she picked us up from daycare and drove past our neighbourhood, insisting the car was driving itself. The car took us to pizza and a movie. Sometimes we'd go for drives and get a little lost just for fun. We hit the sugar bush some springs. She took us to Toronto once for a Blue Jays game. Unfortunately some whacko punched her in the jaw in the lobby of our hotel and the manager came out, repeatedly offered to sue the guy and sent us up a gift basket. She probably should have sued him. I think she had jaw issues after that.

I just had a sip of the Nutella latte. Not too shabby.

I guess I'm basically saying I'm very invested in Jack's childhood. I have all the patience and joy in the world when it comes to hanging out with kids. Love 'em. Love Jack too. But I think I'll die with love when he's a kid himself. He's already a really great baby. I'm excited to see what sort of child and person he'll be.

Motherhood is Surreal

Today I walked through the Eaton Centre, sans bebe, and revelled in the surreal experience of being 2.5 weeks post C-section with no one the wiser. It's so bizarre to have a baby at home, after having undergone major surgery to have him, endure a serious infection that lands you in the hospital, and then mosey around a mall like nothing ever happened.

Jack stayed with the Dude today while I dropped my aunt off at the bus station. Her time here, spanning two weeks, has come to a close. I feel far more prepared to handle life now. Before I was a dazed mess, in pain from a large incision, weak from my delivery and recovery and unsure of what to do with a baby. Now I feel like I can read some of his cues. I can change him quickly, I know a few ways to comfort him and I know his hunger cries.

I was so lucky to have my aunt with me. She made bottles, did dishes and relieved me from the constant care of my baby when I needed rest or a nap. It was also nice to have someone to talk to about what I was going through. I had a lot of feelings I needed to work out about breastfeeding and bonding and it meant a lot to me to have her as a sounding board.

I won't be exclusively breastfeeding. I just can't and I'm not going to beat myself up over it. The C section delayed my milk, then the infection and separation reduced my supply, and Jack's large size meant he needed bigger feedings that I had no chance in hell of producing, not starting from scratch when supplementing with formula was mandatory to keep him alive.

So he gets a couple breastfeedings per day and I'm satisfied with this. It's not the free food situation I had in mind, but then my entire introduction into motherhood hasn't been anything like I planned. So be it. Life is unpredictable.

My bond with my baby has been slow. I think he's a great kid. He's mellow and cute and an easy guy to care for. I'm lucky. He slept five hours straight last night. I enjoy him more and more each day and I wouldn't trade him for anything. But love hasn't been instant. It's been growing slowly over time. It'll continue.

So after I dropped my aunt off I decided to have my first bout of me time. I was wearing my pre-pregnancy clothes (Which I fit into now. I'm 3 pounds away from my pre-pregnancy weight. My muscles, however, are all entirely gone due to all the bedrest I had after Jack was born. Also, my tummy is scary looking at present.) and I wanted to do something frivolous.

So I got my nails done and had a half-hour chair massage. I feel more like a woman and a human being. It was nice to walk around unencumbered. I didn't worry about my baby at all either. He was with his father, and anyway, I spent two nights away from him in the hospital and he did just fine. Humbling knowledge that my baby doesn't need me, but there you are.

And I don't mean he doesn't need me. He does. He just doesn't need me all the time and to the exclusion of other people. I'm not the only one who can care for him. The Dude is super competent. And with this knowledge I wandered somewhat aimlessly around the mall, like a normal nondescript non-pregnant woman. Almost back to normal, at least on the outside. So long as I'm viewed with clothes on.

I suppose I'm sort of floored how similar I feel. I'm still very much me in every way. I just now have a baby.

Motherhood

Having a new baby at home means keeping things simple. There are no Pinterest craft projects here, nothing making the experience more precious or unique. We just manage the intake of food versus the output of waste. We try to discern whether a fart contained a mess. We decipher cries (Hungry? Needs a diaper? Gas?) and we change our son in and out of clothes as he pukes on them. This has happened three times. The smell is unpleasant.

We did wind up with a good baby, though. He doesn't enjoy screaming for the sake of it. He mostly sits around like a happy little nugget and coos and otherwise enjoys being here. He's not immune to being fussy, but I'd say we lucked out. This child is a delightful baby.

Happy as a clam.

I'm doing alright. The week of his birth was really low for me. I still haven't brought my milk supply up. The wee lad is taking in 4 ounces and there is no way I can produce that right now. I'm averaging half an ounce per go. I'm on meds to increase supply, and we're using a tube to feed him formula while I feed. This allows Jack to suck, thereby sending signals to my body to make more milk, and still get enough to eat at the same time. And I'm pumping as well. I still may lose my milk all the same and I'm doing my best to approach that with some grace.

With a C section, you can experience delayed milk, which happened. An infection doesn't help, and being separated from your newborn for days is definitely a hinderance. Having such a big baby who needs a lot of milk means you face a further obstacle to making enough for him when you're essentially starting from scratch. With everything I'm doing to try and fix this, combined with all the problems that were thrown at me, I at at least know I won't blame myself if I fail.

My recovery is going well, much better than it was. My midsection has shrunk considerably. I'm nearly back to my original size. The skin, on the other hand, is looking mighty upset. And there is no tone there to speak of. But it is a three-step process: shrink down, tighten skin, and tone muscle.

I've been sweating through a towel every night. I had to start sleeping on one almost immediately. I was so swollen with excess water and now it's pouring out of me. I suppose it's helping me whittle down, but dude. Seriously. It's no way to sleep. Jack wakes up wanting something to eat and I realize I'm clammy and gross.

My aunt is here with me. I have many aunts, and this one is the aunt I stay with when I go back to my hometown. She's been like a surrogate mother for me in my adult years. We have her help for another week. I should be well recovered by the time she goes home, and hopefully more equipped to handle motherhood on my own during the day.

This whole thing is life altering and wild. I have no regrets, but occasionally I'm phased by it all, and what I'm able to deal with when I have to.