Back-ish to Work

So I am officially off of my 8 weeks of Family Medical Maternity Leave. I took two extra weeks for breastfeeding problems, not that we made much progress on that front, but I did up my milk supply, so all was not lost.

As I worked from home today and get ready to go back tomorrow (with baby in tow), I have so many mixed emotions. I miss teaching, my coworkers and my students quite a bit. Being a teacher was such a fundamental part of my identity that it never felt like work. I don't have to teach this semester, just do research, committee and administrative work, as well as work on my new business (Baby Signs). So, on the one hand, I am excited to get back into work, to be in front of a computer again, to be using the cerebral portion of my brain. But, my heart breaks not being with my son. The people who have been helping me take care of him while I try to work or pump or even sleep have been amazing. They are wonderful people who Wilson loves. But Wilson is a total mommy's boy. I had to stop working twice today just to hold him because he was so fussy for his babysitter and, apparently, he missed me. As soon as I took him, he calmed down, stopped crying and smiled. Little cheeky monkey.

Still, I got sooo much work done today it was ridiculous. To have six hours mostly uninterrupted (except for 2 calm-Wilson sessions and to breast pump) was beautiful. I didn't feel frustrated as I usually do trying to do anything - like read one email. It's like he has an internal alarm that goes off telling him to start crying whenever I need to work, pump or fall asleep. But today, with a helper, my work time was definitely more concentrated and productive. 

But, interestingly, there is part of me that really just wants to be a stay-at-home mom now. That is so not like me at all. I've always been incredibly active at work - some would say a work-a-holic even. And yet, playing with Wilson, feeding him, breast-pumping and cuddling him to sleep are about all I really want to do right now. Damn these hormones. 

I think there is also a part of me that doesn't want to begin what will inevitably happen. Wilson will grow up. He won't ever need me again like he does right now. He has literally been a part of me and we are so innately connected, that I am experiencing a spiritual and meaningful connection I never thought possible.

If you had asked me 5 years ago if I could see myself not wanting to work, to stay at home, cook, clean and care for a child, I would have called you crazy. Insane, even. But, tonight, after I got done working and sat down to rock Wilson and give him a bottle, I realized how happy this little guy has made me. My whole being has never been in the moment as it is when I am with him. When else would you find yourself singing, dancing, laughing and smiling all through the day? I love consoling and hugging him, kissing his little head and dressing him in insanely-cute outfits and enjoying every second of every day. Even though I have lost a lot - pieces of my identity pre-baby that I probably won't ever get back, I've never experienced these feelings before...this feeling of happiness, of pure love and joy from just living and loving. So, I understand why many moms do not want to go back to work or feel horrible when they do. Either way, there is no choice in the matter if we would like to not go bankrupt, so I am going to do my best to enjoy working and being with him as much as I possibly can. My office will now have a little baby decor (a little bassinet and swing) to go along with my totem poles, drums and feathers. I am very thankful that I can bring him in to work with me and have lots of faculty that have pledged to help me out with him. Plus, I think Wilson can be a great new addition to the junior faculty at SCSU. Too bad he can't earn a paycheck yet...

Who am I?

In my developmental course for graduate students, I often talk about the identity change that happens to a parent when they have their first child. Based on the research, for the best identity evolution, the parent must incorporate who they were -- with who they now are as a parent. Over-identifying as a parent is bad for the parent, and under-identifying as a parent is bad for the child. So, the goal is to find who you are as an individual and a parent and balance them together.

When I taught this in class, it was totally convincing -- and based on research. Now, I say --hahahahahahahahaha. I'm not entirely sure when I'm supposed to express who I am as an individual. Perhaps in those 30 seconds each day between feedings and diaper changes. I barely have time to shower and go to the bathroom, much less consider an existential identity evolution. Even as I am typing this, Mike is 3 feet from me jiggling the baby to sleep while I pump breast milk. I can type as this tortuous machine violates my personal space, but not get in touch with who I was a person pre-baby. 

I did consider the change recently, however, as I attended my friend Valerie's baby shower. A little over two years ago, my best friend Jess and I went to our friend Alina's baby shower; she was the first of us to have a baby. Jess and I walked into Babies'R'Us begrudgingly and looked around. We sort of shrugged at each other as we saw bottles, diapers and various accoutrement that we had no idea its purpose. We bought a totally impractical outfit for her baby girl, then begged the registry woman to pick out $75 of baby crap, since we had no idea what we were doing. We only had one rule - no diaper stuff; nothing like considering poop with your present. Flash forward two years. Jess and I are in Babies (we are on a first name basis now) for our friend Valerie's baby shower. Not only do we know what everything is, we know exactly where it is located, since this store is now like our second home. As we perused the registry, we considered what we would each get. As I squinted at the list through my sleep-deprived via newborn eyelids and Jess read through her toddler-exhausted ones, we nodded, then ran to the bottle section of the store, followed by the diaper section of the store. Gifts that keep on giving: diaper pail, diapers, wipes, butt paste, bottles, bottle rack, bibs and pacifiers. Oh how, our lives have changed. We used to want something cute and fashionable - something that said, "Misty and Jess bought this for you..." Now, we bought something that we used and appreciated post-baby - poop and food accessories. 

So, let me consider this now: who am I? Pre-baby, I was a shaman, a teacher, a friend, a wife, a mother of furries. I was funny, loved playing the piano, playing computer games, watching good television and going to see the latest movie. I loved fashion, shoes, makeup. I loved reading trashy vampire romance novels and the latest peer-reviewed journal articles. I practiced meditation and yoga. My identity was secure and stable for several years. I feel as though I am still these things, but there has been no time for these activities with taking care of a high-maintenance newborn. I am now a breast-pumping, newborn jiggling, diaper-wielding, bottle-preparing MOM. If I'm not doing any of those things, I'm sleeping, eating or bathing myself. I'm fairly confident that this will get better and I will be able to express my pre-baby parts of my personality, but right now, it's all about being a mom.

And, ironically, I wouldn't change a thing. Who knew I could be so competent at holding a baby while doing three other things. I'm an expert burper and baby-bather. One of my favorite moments in the day is when I take a bath with Wilson and hold him and sing to him as he smiles. Or when he falls asleep on my chest and we take a brief nap together in the late morning. I love when he rubs my arm and grabs my shirt as he drinks his bottle. I love watching his smiles as we play peek-a-boo when I slip his onesie over his head and how his legs and arms go wild when I am changing his diaper. I think he's hilarious when he makes funny faces at me or does silly things - like turning his head side to side repeatedly in what can only be described as a Stevie-Wonder head dance. I'm totally in love with this little man and don't care that who I was before has been put on hold for now.

However, I am apparently still funny to Wilson who laughed hysterically today when I rubbed lotion on him while saying in my creepiest Silence-of-the-lambs voice "it puts the lotion on the baby or else it gets the hose again..."Ah well, enough existential pondering: off to prepare another bottle...

Adventures in Breastfeeding, part deux

My life has continued to be a blur of diaper changes, feedings, sleeping and jiggling - Wilson is fond of the rock, rock, pat, pat, jiggle, jiggle, sshhhh, sshhhh method of calming. My mom came up to help while I had two extra weeks off from work to get breastfeeding "under control". Well, it's been a week and a half and some things are better, but I wouldn't qualify them as under control yet.

My little bundle of joy is a voracious eater. He eats more than any other baby I've ever heard of and his growth spurts are weeks long, not just a day or two, like they are supposed to be. An average "cluster feeding" day consists of little Wilson drinking a bottle, then me carefully getting him to sleep. I run to the bathroom, get a drink and something quick to eat and start to pump, followed by the inevitable interruption of Wilson waking up to eat more (he sleeps no more than a half an hour to 40 minutes on growth spurt days). Rinse and repeat for 24 hours. With my mother here, I've been able to pump uninterrupted and have built up my supply to about 35 ounces a day. This makes me feel happy, but also like a cow. A happy cow, if you will. With all this eating, Wilson has ended up in the 90th percentile for weight and 98th percentile for height.

Now, last I wrote, breastfeeding was more like a nightmare than a "natural," lovely experience. A few weeks later, things are improving, but it's good that I have the patience of Job. To recap, from birth Wilson went from latching for a minute -- to staring at my breasts with no idea what to do -- to crying hysterically when he saw boobs -- to tolerating boobs but having no interest in them -- to being interested but just mouthing it --to his most recent accomplishment: "the bad latch." He now looks like he really wants to latch and in fact, does...very poorly. So it feels, essentially, like a giant clamp is cutting your nipple off. I stopped him and tried to re-latch, but to no avail. His giant nipple-chomper mouth just doesn't want to open wide enough.

It's at this point that I completely understand people who give up on breastfeeding. Honestly, is it worth all the hassle?!? I've actually settled into the whole pumping thing and I think I can keep this up for quite awhile, so if actual breastfeeding doesn't happen, I believe I can do exclusive pumping. I really don't even care if we do formula, but as every recent mother knows, if you don't at least try breastfeeding, you are a horrible, negligent mother who doesn't care about your baby's health. At least that is what everyone makes you think, especially those that I like to call the "boob nazis" who look at you with contempt if you complain about a sore nipple or speak of supplementing with formula. 

But, as I think about the vast adventures I am having with breastfeeding, I realize that they aren't very different from my adventures getting pregnant, being pregnant and giving birth. They require understanding, patience, hope and trust. I understand that breastfeeding isn't totally natural, at least for modern American women. I also understand that my baby and my boobs don't seemingly match each other. I have the patience to learn this new skill and I have the patience to wait for Wilson to chomp his way through his learning as well. I have hope that my vision of nursing my son, while he quietly looks up at me and that feeling of love (and oxytocin) courses through me. And I trust that someday this will happen. I'm not giving up until it does! It may take until Wilson is 7, but I'm pretty sure he'll be able to follow instructions by then.