I hear that question about 2 or 3 times a day as soon as people are done gawking at my gargantuan belly and I then inform them that I'll be having this baby in a week and a 1/2.
"Are you ready?" they ask.
If you mean, Do I have a crib and a car seat and diapers and clothes and burp cloths and a breast pump and all of the necessary physical amenities to satiate an infant's temporal needs? Then, yes.
If you mean, "Are you ready?" Then, no.
Confession: I don't do newborns.
Don't get me wrong. I see newborns and I think they're beautiful and miraculous and amazing and precious...
I want to hold them. Kiss their heads. Smell them. Love them.
I miss my girls as newborns.
But I also couple the thought of that tiny time in both of their lives with a living nightmare. Not gonna' lie.
I want to hold them. Kiss their heads. Smell them. Love them.
I miss my girls as newborns.
But I also couple the thought of that tiny time in both of their lives with a living nightmare. Not gonna' lie.
This was my beautiful Malia - all of the time. Not from 5-10 PM; not every couple of hours; not when she was tired or hungry; not after shots... nope.
All. Of. The. Time.
For 5 months.
Oh, sure. There were happy moments - I have pictures of those, too. In fact, I kept a camera on my hip at all times to be sure to capture those moments whenever they did, in deed, happen. But the above face was seen more often than not. Count your blessings that's not a video with sound up there, yo.
This is my hand.
These are bite marks that were put there by me - a grown, intelligent, capable woman - who couldn't deal with the anxiety and the rising blood pressure that I experienced and later came to be diagnosed as a result of post-partum depression. Why do I have a picture, you may wonder? Because I looked at my hand one day and realized I needed help. I took a picture to remind myself to not let it get to that point again.
This is what I would do to my hand when Cecily would cry... like all babies do... simply to communicate. The sound made me feel like I was failing as a mother and that colic was knocking at my door yet again. And then my nervous system would go crazy (pun intended) and I had to lash out. So I would bite my hand. I have a scar on my lip from when Malia was little and her crying became so much I'd bite down. With Cecily? It became my hand. As long as it wasn't on the baby was all that mattered to me.
But I have issues, ok? Real, therapy-needed, diagnosable issues. I've talked to my doctor already. He's fully prepared to drug me up if that is the necessary case (last-ditch resort, mind you). And I have a chiropractor friend who treated Cecily when she was 2 weeks old and who I fully intend to visit ASAP with this next one. I went to a therapist for 4 months after CC was born to help me find tactics and tools to get through those moments when I felt like someone else was at the wheel.
I have to remind myself that I have raised two beautiful, healthy, fairly-well-behaved girls up to this point. I'm not terrible at it. I'm not a champ, by any means, but I figure it out as I go by. If child-rearing were an Olympic sport, I wouldn't medal, but I think I'd at least qualify.
Okay, ladies. Honesty time (when isn't it honesty time in my world...?). I have a lot of pregnant friends right now. It seems last summer was a fertile time in my social circles. And I want this baby. I mean, I was willing to completely forgo even having a period after last spring's miscarriage in order to test out the rumor that women are very fertile after a miscarriage - a theory that proved true for us. For that reason, I've technically been pregnant for a little over a year. I know that we are meant to be a "minimum-of-3-kids family." I am excited for this baby girl. I love my children. The fear I had when I was pregnant with Cecily that I couldn't possibly love her like I love Malia is non-existent this time around, because I have now experienced the unconditional and infinite love a mother can feel for more than one child. THAT is totally in baby #3's favor.
But the thought of knowing what's to come has me terrified. And I'm having a hard time biting my tongue as my multiple pregnant girlfriends post on their FB statuses(ii?) about how excited they are and all the plans they have for themselves and their impending wee one (and yes - I admit I'm judging many of them like the mean girl I am because, for a good majority of them, this is their first). I don't want to be the storm cloud that rains on the parade with comments like: Just you wait until it's 3 AM and little Junior is showing no signs of slumber or HA! You think you're uncomfortable now?! Ever heard of mastitis?! or I'm glad you love making all those baby purchases. But in 3 months you'll feel like you're tossing bricks of gold into that diaper genie (all of which I've literally typed out and deleted and replaced with a simple click of the "Like" button on their status).
But that's what I do when I'm scared - I assume everyone else in the world is dumb. And the (possibly [probably] conceived by me) "cluelessness" (or maybe it's precious optimism and I'm just a sad, bitter old curmudgeon) of my other pregnant Mommy friends only seems to rub salt in the wound that is my self-doubt. I've done this twice. But I'm really scared to do it a 3rd time. I'm scared of the sleep-deprivation and the crying and the first few days of struggling to breast feed and the first few months of clinging desperately to any control I thought I once had in my life. And the biggest part of my fear is the fact that I have two living/breathing children who will still need me to be functioning; and I'm concerned about my ability to function.
Please tell me I'm not the only one who goes through this thought process before a baby's born. Please tell me that it's not supposed to be all about the itty-bitty booties and hand-stitched bibs and smiling wistfully at the fluffy, new crib bedding. Please tell me that women are allowed to think this realistically without being judged or ridiculed or reminded about that superhumanity of all the perfect moms who came before them....
So, maybe all of this begs a new question: "Then why are you doing it again?"
This is why.
And this is why.
And this is why.
And this is definitely why.
All. Of. The. Time.
For 5 months.
Oh, sure. There were happy moments - I have pictures of those, too. In fact, I kept a camera on my hip at all times to be sure to capture those moments whenever they did, in deed, happen. But the above face was seen more often than not. Count your blessings that's not a video with sound up there, yo.
This is my hand.These are bite marks that were put there by me - a grown, intelligent, capable woman - who couldn't deal with the anxiety and the rising blood pressure that I experienced and later came to be diagnosed as a result of post-partum depression. Why do I have a picture, you may wonder? Because I looked at my hand one day and realized I needed help. I took a picture to remind myself to not let it get to that point again.
This is what I would do to my hand when Cecily would cry... like all babies do... simply to communicate. The sound made me feel like I was failing as a mother and that colic was knocking at my door yet again. And then my nervous system would go crazy (pun intended) and I had to lash out. So I would bite my hand. I have a scar on my lip from when Malia was little and her crying became so much I'd bite down. With Cecily? It became my hand. As long as it wasn't on the baby was all that mattered to me.
But I have issues, ok? Real, therapy-needed, diagnosable issues. I've talked to my doctor already. He's fully prepared to drug me up if that is the necessary case (last-ditch resort, mind you). And I have a chiropractor friend who treated Cecily when she was 2 weeks old and who I fully intend to visit ASAP with this next one. I went to a therapist for 4 months after CC was born to help me find tactics and tools to get through those moments when I felt like someone else was at the wheel.
I have to remind myself that I have raised two beautiful, healthy, fairly-well-behaved girls up to this point. I'm not terrible at it. I'm not a champ, by any means, but I figure it out as I go by. If child-rearing were an Olympic sport, I wouldn't medal, but I think I'd at least qualify.
Okay, ladies. Honesty time (when isn't it honesty time in my world...?). I have a lot of pregnant friends right now. It seems last summer was a fertile time in my social circles. And I want this baby. I mean, I was willing to completely forgo even having a period after last spring's miscarriage in order to test out the rumor that women are very fertile after a miscarriage - a theory that proved true for us. For that reason, I've technically been pregnant for a little over a year. I know that we are meant to be a "minimum-of-3-kids family." I am excited for this baby girl. I love my children. The fear I had when I was pregnant with Cecily that I couldn't possibly love her like I love Malia is non-existent this time around, because I have now experienced the unconditional and infinite love a mother can feel for more than one child. THAT is totally in baby #3's favor.
But the thought of knowing what's to come has me terrified. And I'm having a hard time biting my tongue as my multiple pregnant girlfriends post on their FB statuses(ii?) about how excited they are and all the plans they have for themselves and their impending wee one (and yes - I admit I'm judging many of them like the mean girl I am because, for a good majority of them, this is their first). I don't want to be the storm cloud that rains on the parade with comments like: Just you wait until it's 3 AM and little Junior is showing no signs of slumber or HA! You think you're uncomfortable now?! Ever heard of mastitis?! or I'm glad you love making all those baby purchases. But in 3 months you'll feel like you're tossing bricks of gold into that diaper genie (all of which I've literally typed out and deleted and replaced with a simple click of the "Like" button on their status).
But that's what I do when I'm scared - I assume everyone else in the world is dumb. And the (possibly [probably] conceived by me) "cluelessness" (or maybe it's precious optimism and I'm just a sad, bitter old curmudgeon) of my other pregnant Mommy friends only seems to rub salt in the wound that is my self-doubt. I've done this twice. But I'm really scared to do it a 3rd time. I'm scared of the sleep-deprivation and the crying and the first few days of struggling to breast feed and the first few months of clinging desperately to any control I thought I once had in my life. And the biggest part of my fear is the fact that I have two living/breathing children who will still need me to be functioning; and I'm concerned about my ability to function.
Please tell me I'm not the only one who goes through this thought process before a baby's born. Please tell me that it's not supposed to be all about the itty-bitty booties and hand-stitched bibs and smiling wistfully at the fluffy, new crib bedding. Please tell me that women are allowed to think this realistically without being judged or ridiculed or reminded about that superhumanity of all the perfect moms who came before them....
So, maybe all of this begs a new question: "Then why are you doing it again?"
This is why.
And this is why.
And this is why.
And this is definitely why.Let's just hope I make it through the "Why ME?!"s better than I have before so I can get to the "Why"s much sooner... for everyone's sake.
8 comments:
A. I'll put your name in the temple.
B. Talking reduces stigma and helps others recognize and OWN their feelings of inadequacy or doubt or fear. Talking lets others know when you need help. Talking prepares people like ME for the reality of having children. Keep talking.
As a survivor of multiple colicky kids, I agree that it is worth it, if not the single most terrifying leap of faith in the entire world. My first was colicky in a similar way to Malia, as in she was ALL-IN colicky. None of that three hours a day crap, but around the clock, never sleeping for longer than an hour and a half stretch (if we were lucky) for almost five sold months kinda colicky. When she was three months old, I'd' sing the ABCs to her all day, 'cause it was the ONLY song I could remember anymore in my sleep-deprived brain. Then one day I got to 'G' and couldn't think of what came next, burst into tears and called my husband and told him he should probably come home 'cause I didn't think I should be left alone to care for a baby when I couldn't remember my freaking ABCs. I didn't think I could do that again, be that tired, that wound tight, that running on fumes. Fortunately, my second, who was also colicky, was more textbook colicky. It sucked, but was doable (while not necessarily enjoyable). With my third I was terrified of doing it again, and though it didn't factor into the decision to have another child or not (I knew we'd have another one), it was scary. And I fortunately then experienced my 'easy' baby (I think other people wouldn't have called him an easy baby, but to me, he was a breeze.) And now on my fourth, he's not colicky, but he's not mellow. I look at my niece who's the same age, and watch her play for an hour on the play mat all happily and I think, "Dude, how did my sister end up with one of 'those' babies" while I'm bouncing mine on my hip in just the right way to keep him from freaking out?" Oh well. I have definitely enjoyed my last two babies 'infant stages' more than their older sisters, but I do think overall the newborn period leaves me in a cold sweat when I'm pregnant and thinking about it. Fortunately, I think it gets easier each time. (Mine has been a combination of the kids getting easier, and then on this last one, even though he's not an easier going baby, I just don't stress as much as I did before.)
I've decided that overall, I'm more of a they-bring-your-handwritten-notes-and-you-curl-up-and-read-chapter-books-together-stage kinda Mom. And I'm OK with that :-)
Oh, and I think it's perfectly healthy to be pretty much terrified (and a little judge-y of those who aren't) of the sleep deprivation when it's your third -- 'cause you already know HOW. MUCH. IT. SUCKS.
At the end of my last pregnancy, I would cry to my husband whenever I couldn't fall asleep, "I'm SO tired and it's only going to get worse when the baby comes!" My little sister had her first four months ago, and at one week postpartum, her husband brought her to my house with her sobbing uncontrollably and him looking at me like, "Fix her?!" She said she was terrified to fall asleep 'cause the baby was just going to wake her up again and she hated nighttime so much now there were no words for it. And asked why I didn't warn her about this. I told her I tried, but there are really no words, no explanation until you've done it.
Fortunately, I think it can (not always, but for many people) get easier with each kid -- I'm MUCH better about nursing half asleep (or all the way asleep). That combined with a non-colicky-possessed baby, and I'm feeling pretty good. I was actually telling someone the other day, I feel better and more rested with my 8 week old (and since he was 2 weeks old) than I did pregnant.
Sorry for such LONG multiple comments from a practical stranger -- I've just been there :-)
Aww Tiffy!!! It is OKAY to feel this way!!! I actually wrote a blog post similar to this one before Cole. Granted, you've experienced a lot more new-baby trauma than I have, but you know exactly what to do: cherish those happy moments, talk to people (including doc and therapist) about the bad ones, and rely on Dave and your family!!! You'll be OKAY! It's always a huge adjustment, but you can do it - AGAIN! There are so many good times coming your way!!! :-D
I don't have a lot of experience. But I know you are a good mother and that the hardest part doesn't last. And I know that is hard to remember during, but it does help to know it has an end.
Tiffany,
One of the greatest things I admire about you is your ability to apply the gospel in the day to day trials that come in life. You have a way of showing the raw beauty and realness of the Atonement. You understand suffering and have developed a greater compassion for those who struggle. I'm so grateful for you!!
I adore these pictures! Its easy to see that your daughters bask in the warmth of your unconditional love.
Hugs and prayers this week. Can't wait to meet the newest sweet Nutter girl.
You know what's sad? I really WAS a pretty good mom until #3 came along. #3 broke my back. I am VERY afraid for #4...
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