Tempering the Temperament...part deux

I laid in my bath tonight reading my Mama PhD book after giving Wilson his bath and passing him off to Mike. I listened to Wilson scream as Mike put on his pajamas, but after about 2 minutes, I heard nothing in the other room. I wondered...Hmm. Either they've killed each other or Wilson is getting better. I walked into the room after my bath and found Wilson peacefully taking his bottle from Mike who was cuddling him and softly singing, "I am what I am" - a meditation song that we sang together this week during our nightly meditation. Mike added to it "You are what you are" as he softly sang my son to sleep.

This has been the capstone of our persistent work with Wilson, our little DC (difficult child), as Mike calls him. I've organized our house into "stations" - there's the swing, the nap nanny in front of the television, his playgym mat, his tummy time mat, a beautiful blanket my niece made us which serves as his tummy and roll over practice mat, his Bumbo chair, his vibrating chair, his jumper, his walker and his high chair [all in different areas of the house]. After Wilson wakes up in the morning, we play with him on the changing table, get him dressed and spend a few minutes holding him. Then he's off onto the circuit to sit/play independently. When he gets mad or bored, we try to talk him through it and then if successful, walk away. If unsuccessful, we take him to the next station and let him play. Rinse and repeat until he indicates he's unhappy with everything, which usually indicates he's tired and ready for his bottle and his nap. We try every time to put him down in his pack and play to nap - something which was impossible a month ago. We try to make it out of the house at least once a day - always bringing the babywearing carrier just in case. At night, we have dinner, do our nightly meditation as a family (although it's always singing meditations and requires some baby-entertaining at the same time), have bath time, then put him to bed in his crib in his own room. If at any point he does his "mad cry" (which has been often in the past), we try to talk him through it where he is at, comforting him with touch and with our voices. If that doesn't work (he's been known to scream so loud and cry so hard that he loses his breath), we hold him close - talk to him reassuringly and say lots of things I know he doesn't understand, but we'll continue to say to him as he gets older and does - we love him, he's ok, we are there, take a breath (although this really for our benefit rather than his) and that we are there to help him. He usually calms down quickly and we take him back to the circuit.

So that's our "work'; here's our progress in the last month since we started. He now only requires holding to help him calm down a few times a day (down from easily over 20 times a day). He now sits independently for hours every day (up from a few minutes a day last month). We've been able to get work done, take care of the house, spend time together, catch up on our tv, watch some movies AND spend lots of time with him, playing and loving our new role as parents. He isn't crazy about his swing, but has sat in it for 30 minutes at one time recently, his nap nanny for an hour or more, his baby gym for 30 minutes, he's now rolling over!! and sits in his high chair, while we eat dinner - which I've have been able to cook consistently for over a week. A few times I had to babywear him while cooking, but he was quite content to sit there and watch me prepare our meal. He sits patiently through our meditation, giggling at our singing and enjoying when I do a little baby yoga while we sing. He's doing about 50% better in his car seat - and he rarely every cries for no apparent reason anymore. He does sleep in his crib - sleeping 4 to 5 hours, gets his bottle, back down for 3 hours, another bottle, then 3 more hours, another part of a bottle, then 1 hour before getting up for the day. He's done this so consistently that I now wake up before he starts crying!

Here's what we've learned: this approach seems to be working for us for now and it's helped us get to know our Big Willy. He wants to be part of everything and he's very interested in the world. He would like to be walking already and loves to be stood up and even moves himself in his walker. He's got such a cute blooming personality and every day he seems to mellow out more and more. Mike and I reconnected to each other with some deep conversations settling on what we needed from the other (I asked for more positivity; he asked for healthier meals). We put together a schedule that was fair to both of us and allowed me to do work. In balancing my roles as academic and mother, I realized that I cannot separate the two: I am both. So, as a true collectivist, I have decided that little Wilson needs to be part of my life at school as well. So we are going to attempt to begin to go to work together and have a few "stations" at the office. I'm also going to have my at-home writing time after I put him to bed and try going to the gym and have date nights again.

I don't know if this will continue to work, if we will be able to stick to our schedule or if it will all fall apart when he gets sick or starts teething. I'm definitely sure we'll face new challenges, we'll have to try new things and we'll have to learn to adapt and be flexible as we go. But I do know this: it's getting better.

What I wish I knew...

I've been considering this blog post for quite awhile: What I wish I knew before having a baby. Since I'm pretty new at this gig (although at 3 months, it feels like forever ago to the freedom of my pre-mom days...), I asked a lot of other mothers to chime in, so this post includes many others' input. I hope it finds its way to those who haven't had their babies yet, as well as to those who are currently struggling and want to feel just a little more normal.

1. Work out your issues before having the baby. Before you have the baby, your self-esteem, childhood issues, issues with your mother/father and doubts about your self-worth should be, as much as they can be, resolved. Your relationship should be strong and you have mastered positive communication. There is no time to work out your issues after the baby arrives. If you don't do this before, you WILL suffer after the baby comes. This is why divorce rates spike during pregnancy and after a child is born, why depression can be quite severe after a baby arrives and how resentment of the baby (and in turn, the child's resentment of the parent) can happen. Message: Go to therapy, meditate, do yoga, confront your parents, marital therapy - whatever you need to do - but work out your issues NOW.

2. Breastfeeding is difficult and don't pinch pennies on the breastpump. Breastfeeding looks so calm, natural and peaceful, but it's lies - horrible, horrible lies. For some reason, in our culture, this generation has HUGE difficulties with breastfeeding. It takes forever for most to figure it out, some (like my son) never latch and others do so horribly that your nipples crack and bleed. For those moms and babies who do figure it out, sometimes you face additional challenges like milk shortages, overproduction of skim milk or early teething. I thought I would never even need a breastpump, but lo and behold I have a breastfeeding-challenged son, so that is ALL I use. I use it so much every day that I should name it. Even though I exclusively pump, have gotten my pumping times down to 3 times a day (unheard of) and have a good supply for Wilson, I still have lovely things that happen like finding a blood blister on my nipple after pumping a few days ago. How is that evolutionarily adaptive??? It's not! So main message here: If you plan on breastfeeding, plan on experiencing difficulties. If you don't, yay! Celebrate. But it's more than likely, you will. Don't beat yourself up about it.

3. Everyone has a little bit of the baby blues. I patiently listened to the lecture my midwives gave me after I had Wilson. Yes, I know what postpartum depression is. Yes, I know what to look for. Yes, I would definitely get help. "But, it's ridiculous, I won't get it," I thought. I have great self-care, a good marriage and, after all, I have wanted this baby for years! How could I be sad about finally getting what I want?! Little did I know that how much you love your baby has absolutely nothing to do with postpartum depression. As one of my midwives put it, "You go through the birth experience, have that moment of excitement as you meet your little one...Then you fall into a big, black hole." And it's true. You fall into the hole of conflicting feelings, identity struggles, sleep deprivation, strained relationships, lack of basic self-care like eating and showering and at the same time pure wonderment and joy. It's a bizarre place and experience and I think every mother should know that it's normal.

4. You will lose any idea of who you are as a person. I feel like this is some kind of Zen koan (a meditation paradox), but you really go through a crisis of identity. Like a tree falling in the woods, If I no longer do ___________ (insert previous identity here), then am still that identity? Before having a baby, I prided myself on being a counselor, a teacher, a researcher, a shaman, a wife and a pet owner. I have no time to counsel anyone, I am on maternity leave for a semester from teaching, I made the decision to not do my research until I go back in the spring, I haven't had a drum circle since before the baby is born, I routinely tell my husband to "shut his face", and I have gated and barred my little furries from most of the rooms in our house to keep the inevitable hair from finding its way onto my infant. The dogs haven't gone for a walk in months and the cats are so starved for attention that they take the dogs flattened stuffed animals in their mouths and bring them to us like little dead presents. I eat when my baby lets me, I sleep when my baby lets me, I care for my baby all day, I feel horrible when I am away from him, I worry about his well-being, I revel in his smiles and plan my activities based on things that he will enjoy. I am now, first and foremost, a mom. But, I am those other identities too. So as you flounder around in that black hole, part of what you are looking for -- is -- you. I feel I'm finally starting to make progress on this front, but I wish I had known how difficult finding balance between your role as a mom, your job and the rest of who you are, truly is.

5. Many people are judgmental jerks. Everyone will have an opinion of how you are parenting; unfortunately some share it with you. Everything from using daycare for your infant -- to when you should potty train -- to what you are eating when you are breastfeeding becomes an object of scrutiny. These unfortunately tend to be women themselves, which makes you think they would have empathy for new mothers. But, no, as any middle-schooler or highschooler knows: girls can be mean. Their unsolicited advice and judgments of you can make you question your choices as a parent. Bottom line: it's none of their business, they don't have to raise your child and if someone has to spend that much time talking about and judging a new mom who is trying her best, that person's life must be pretty sad. Don't listen and don't ever question your instincts when you feel strongly about something. And if you are ever really doubting yourself, go talk to another new mom - who will remind you of the normality of what you are experiencing. 

6. You will hate your partner...at least for a little while. I never anticipated having any kind of problem with my husband. We had an ideal relationship. We had been married for 8 years and worked out all the issues we had in our relationship. We had great communication. We loved each other intensely. We had all the same interests and hobbies. We were happy to be on this journey together and could not imagine or anticipate any issues whatsoever. And then, the baby, stress, sleep deprivation and lack of patience, time and energy kicks in. You exert all of your patience and energy in caring for your little one. As a new parent, you are experiencing a crisis of identity and often are not taking care of yourself or doing any of those things you used to do to rid yourself of stress: like going to the gym, reading in the bath or watching crap television. As a new mother (especially if you are staying home), you are vulnerable, you are full of hormones, you worry about everything, you have lost your body and often your mind. You have NO TIME to patiently explain how you are feeling to your partner and that their poorly-worded off-hand comment has hurt your already-vulnerable feelings. That won't happen. Instead, you will turn red, scream how your partner has no idea what it's like to stay home and care all day for this baby, how you've lost your body and mind and how much you would now like to punch your partner in the face. Your partner, particularly if they are male, is most likely depressed by how drastically his life has now changed, how little you pay attention to them now, how uninterested you are in being intimate (another side-effect of the hormones of breastfeeding -- oh and just being a new mom), and how little control he has in this new life. The problem is that as a new mother and primary caregiver, these complaints from your partner will pale in comparison to yours and you, again, feel like punching them in the face. You will have full hour "conversations" on who does more work, who gets more sleep and whose life has changed more. It's stupid and childish and it happens to all of us. You HAVE to find a way to connect to your partner as a co-parent to your child, as your lover and as your friend, or you will be another after-child divorce statistic.

7. It often takes some time to feel connected to your baby. When your baby is an inside-baby, they are part of you. They feel what you feel. They allow you to sleep (at least until the end). When they emerge, you realize that they are a distinctly different and separate person - a stranger. You have to get to know this little being; and the illusion of how you, as their mother, should innately know everything they need and connect to them immediately becomes obviously transparent. If you have a traumatic birth experience, it can take even longer to feel this connection and to "like" your little one. This does NOT make you a bad mother; it is more normal than you think.

8. The love you feel for your children will be greater and more painful than anything you have ever felt before. As hard as being a new mom is, I wouldn't change anything about it. I look at Wilson's smiles and my heart feels fuller than it ever has before. Just when you think you can't love them any more, you do. And your heart grows with each child to love them just as much. At the same time, to think of anything bad happening to Wilson, thinking of him having to go through illness, heartbreak and trauma, and to hear of parents who have lost their children -- literally takes my breath away. He has become my heart and to lose him would literally be losing a piece of myself. 

9. Having a baby is messy and gross. From the birth experience where you will likely poop on your provider when pushing your baby out -- to leaking milk out of your boobs -- to passing fist-sized blood clots -- to "pancake boobs" and stretch marks -- to spit up and poop-plosion diapers that defy gravity -- having and raising your baby is gross, messy and disgusting. Nothing will remind you of our animalistic nature like having a baby. There is nothing prim and proper about this experience at all. I remember wondering how women lose their modesty and can be naked in the labor and delivery room in front of strangers. And then, I was there - throwing my clothes off, laying on the shower room floor in a semi-hypnotic state. I didn't care who was there or what they thought of me. Your modesty slowly returns, but you should know that even though this whole process is pretty gross, you won't care.

10. Patience, trust and acceptance. My mantra for getting pregnant and surviving the last few days of my pregnancy became crucial in surviving being a new parent. You cannot control anything. You WILL get something you didn't plan on - whether it is a child that has colic, one who has a difficult temperament, a baby who develops autism, a traumatic birth experience, a divorce, an illness, a hurricane, etc. This is life. Being able to survive this, as any other crazy life experience, requires that you have patience with yourself, your partner, your child and life in general. It requires that you trust that life will get better, that you and your partner can do this, that things will be that were meant to be and that you can handle this. It also requires acceptance of what life hands you. When I realized that after a difficult time getting pregnant, a difficult end of my pregnancy and an incredibly-difficult birth experience that I was given a difficult-tempered baby, I cried hysterically. It did not seem fair that I went through all of these horrible things (don't get me started on my other non-baby life experiences) and couldn't catch a break with the temperament of my child. But, in my soul, I am a teacher. I have experienced many less-than-ideal life circumstances and have not only grown from them, but have been able to help others who are going through the same thing. These things make me a stronger and more intuitive teacher. If I can help other new moms to feel better and more prepared, I would gladly have gone through all that I have. And I would choose to do it again. 

11. Make sure you have help. Being a mom today is ridiculously hard. You are expected to take care of yourself, remain presentable and attractive, take care of your partner (which usually means being responsive AND cooking, cleaning and caring for the house) and caring for this new infant -- all while meeting incredibly high expectations of yourself and others. Women in previous generations were not always expected to breastfeed - a horrible time suck (pun intended) which not only secures your place as primary caregiver, but ensures you will be home-bound for weeks-months-years. Families were more intact and close-by in previous generations, ensuring strong family support to help you raise children. The expectations of balancing work and home have never been higher; it is really no longer an option for most to be a stay-at-home mom -- we must work to support the family. These requirements are IMPOSSIBLE. You cannot be perfect at all of these things. You need someone you trust to help you with the baby, give you time to sleep, work on your relationship with your partner and simply to remain sane. So, make sure you have good quality childcare (p.s. high quality childcare centers have 2-year waiting lists), people (that you trust) who can just give you a break by watching the baby for a few hours and someone to talk to when life gets rough. You are not a superwoman and the more you try to make yourself be this, the more disservice you will actually do to yourself and your baby. A good mother is one who knows her limits and teaches her children the same.

12. It gets better. The first time you try to put your infant in their carseat, put a onesie on your infant, deal with a horribly-gassed screaming baby, change a poop-plosion diaper and put them in a carrier, you will feel inept and ridiculous. I remember Wilson screaming bloody murder as Mike and I tried to figure out how the straps went on the carseat. We looked at each other with horror and complete powerlessness at our carseat-ignorance. Three months later, we can get him ready in the car seat in a matter of seconds, combined with the obligatory distraction (usually singing and dancing) to keep him from freaking the hell out. Similarly, you learn that you can balance some things, you learn how to manage time better (make a schedule - seriously), which baby goodies you absolutely need for your child (Wilson needs a pacifier and a blanket over his head to fall asleep, but hates his baby swing like it has an evil soul and wishes him harm) and you find things that make life easier (we only buy zippy pajamas now because snapping 30 snaps at 3 a.m. is just freaking stupid).

13. You are a good mother. No matter how much you doubt it, worry about your choices and feel guilt, your child came to you for a reason. You are the best mother for your child. If you are doubting your worth as a mother, I have news for you - that means you are a good one. I always tell my students that you can always identify the truly insane by the fact that they never entertain the thought that they might be insane. Someone with schizophrenia truly believes that they are being chased by the government and that they are Jesus or Abraham Lincoln - a doubt never enters their mind. When a sane person experiences something psychologically bizarre, they question their sanity - the most sane thing you can do. I believe the same lies true for being a mother. If you truly believe you are the perfect mother with no faults whatsoever, you are probably a terrible one. But, if you doubt your worth as a mother, worry about your choices and feel perpetual guilt, this shows you are thoughtful, care intensely for your child and are, indeed, a good mom. 

This is Really Freaking Hard...

So, in between pumping, changing diapers and jiggling the crap out of my child, I've been contemplating motherhood and my new identity when I came to the following conclusion: motherhood is a lot like those beautiful newborn and family pictures we see. On the surface, everyone is happy and working in harmony. Everyone is well-dressed, showered and manicured to the nth degree. The baby looks effortlessly peaceful, even angelic. But if you are a newborn photographer or a parent who just had these pictures taken you know that is the farthest from the truth. You painstakingly picked every outfit, hurriedly made sure everyone was clean, dressed and presentable. You packed the diaper bag, pumped, breastfed or bottlefed, then tortured that poor baby by keeping him/her awake for hours until you got to the studio. Even though you have exhausted your poor offspring into submission, it takes HOURS to get a handful of photos. You have to calm the baby down, then put them in not-so-natural baby poses that are super cute until they wake up and have a hissy fit (not captured on camera). Those beautiful naked photos are also uber-cute until the baby shits all over the prop. Seriously, Wilson pooped and peed on everything that poor photographer put under him. This is motherhood. Mothers smile, say how much they love their baby (which is true), show cute pictures and coo about how wonderful their lives are now that it has been blessed with this bundle of joy. It's true - just like the pretty family pictures, that moment was real and captured on camera for proof. But what we don't talk about enough is the behind-the-scenes craziness that we experience on our journey of love and sacrifice. And it's full of tons of poop on every prop.

From very early on, we, as young women, are sold what I like to call - the 'mommy dream'. When I was little my only reference for what taking care of a baby was my knock-off cabbage patch doll, who I called little Wendy. Not a good reference, really. Wendy went to bed when I told her, she required no feedings of any kind and didn't cry when I played with my other toys. Oh how motherhood seemed like bliss then. 

As a teenager, I was deathly afraid of getting pregnant, but not really out of recognition of how hard it might be. I didn't want to get pregnant because it wasn't time for me. I wanted to do lots of things and, really, 99.9% of the population should never procreate with their teenage partners anyway - because let's face it - we make crappy decisions about relationships until far into adulthood.

As a young adult, I had some friends that had children and the most I could get from them was the old "I love them, but..." where the "but" described the difficulty, but it ended with, but it's all worth it anyway. To me that sort of negated the "but" and I really never got it. 

After graduate school, I had several friends that had children and watched some of them grow. They looked tired - exhausted even. But they too, said the whole "I love them, but..." phrase. Only my closest friends were honest enough to say how difficult their babies were. And I told myself the lie that every parent-to-be tell themselves in order to successfully procreate: it's ok because our child will be different.

So what is the behind-the-scenes poopery, as it were? It's a jumble of crazy emotions, experiences, new learning and existential pondering. It just so happens that you can have incredibly conflicting emotions AT THE SAME TIME. I absolutely adore Wilson. He makes me a better person every day. I love waking up to his smiles (even at 3 a.m.) and I miss him horribly if I am apart from him for more than a minute. BUT... at the same time, I am exhausted, barely taking care of myself, want to punch my partner in the face on a bi-weekly basis (and I'm sure he feels the same way), stressed, harried, second-guessing my worth as a mother, struggling to balance my newfound-nurterer role with the previous roles as wife, teacher, researcher, shaman and everything else my post-pregnant brain has forgotten that I used to be. In one second I look at Wilson and think, "You are the most beautiful being I have ever seen in my life." In the next moment I think, "What the hell was I thinking doing this? How am I supposed to balance all of these things??"

It's not just being a parent that is hard. It's being a mom, I believe, in our culture right now. As a new mom, you are not always surrounded by mother and sisters all waiting to help you with the baby (unless you are in an Italian family who moved across the street from your parents). Many of us don't have a lot of family close so the option of having tons of willing help isn't an option. Most of us work outside of the home and I still don't have a clue how that is supposed to balance out. It's also really hard for women with a professional career. We've spent so much time becoming equal in a male-driven market that being pregnant and raising a family puts you at a distinct disadvantage to your male peers - sometimes even discriminatory. There is no place in our professional portfolios to reflect on your role as a mother and how much time you spent rearing the next generation that will better our world. You have to meet the same requirements as any male, but have to do so with less time, energy and resources. Because let's face it, the cultural expectation is that we, as women, must do the majority of the child-rearing. Call it hormonal or historical, typically the primary parent role falls to women. I am lucky enough to have a husband that is thoughtful, involved and concerned about my well-being. Often he sacrifices all of his personal time to give me one break during the very long day. But, I will always be driven, internally and culturally, to be the primary caregiver.

As I have struggled with this new reality, I have found myself having some depressive symptoms. As a psychologist, I know what postpartum depression is and rather than wait until it possibly became clinically significant, I spoke to my family, my midwives and my therapist immediately. I set a new plan in place to take care of myself so that I can be the best mom for Wilson, as well as to get help (I have no close-by relatives and I feel bad asking for free help from friends when Wilson is a little difficult - you either need to be blood-related or getting a paycheck to be calm and patient with little Willy). In addition, I am reading a new book while I take my one moment to myself everyday at bath time. After bathing Wilson, I hand him off to Mike to get diapered, baby-massaged, lotioned and dressed for the night. I take at least another half an hour in the bath free of pets, babies or partner. The new book was given to me by one of my colleagues at SCSU and is entitled "Mama PhD". It has made me cry more than once as I read the experiences of women in academia struggling to balance their roles and facing new experiences, including discrimination in the workplace.

But, as I sit here in my office, fresh from finishing work on a new publication, hearing Wilson cooing to my paid help in the living room, with a machine pumping breast milk out of me, I am keenly aware of how my new life is both terrifying, hysterical and beautiful. I'm clumsily navigating my new roles, afraid of not meeting expectations in one (or all) of them, laughing at the ridiculousness of who I have become (p.s. being a mother is way harder than getting a Ph.D. at Yale if you were wondering) and -- at the same time -- feeling love and happiness that I could have never imagined. Knowing that this little being is the best thing you ever did in your life and that you wouldn't change anything about this experience (except perhaps for getting more sleep...). I thought I couldn't possibly love any bigger than how much I love my partner, but Wilson blows that out of the park. I would gladly sacrifice any part of my life for him and his happiness and health have become the priority in my life over everything else.

On my last visit to my midwife, she said something to me that really resonated with my experience right now. She talked about the postcards of all the newborn pictures with our cute posed babies looking like angels and on the back moms write things like, "loving life", "fallen in love with this little angel" and "enjoying every minute". She sighed and said, "Instead, it should read, 'this is really freaking hard'."

Tempering the Temperament...

Temperament. Something I learned extensively about as a developmental psychologist. The importance of which was something I talked about in my own classes to my graduate students. Something I eagerly awaited to evaluate in my own child.

You see, temperament is almost always inherited from the mother or father; it's innate and somewhat inflexible. Some temperaments are able to be altered, but most are only influenced by trauma and abuse. A child's temperament is very important to understand because it not only predicts what kind of personality the child will have, it helps you to understand the types of issues the child may face, as well as what style of parenting you will need to have with this particular child. Temperament is why parents of multiple children say "that totally worked with my first child, but not at all with my second." In a word, temperament is your child's 'constitution'.

I know a lot about it, so before Wilson, I evaluated both Mike and my temperament as children. Based on our parents' descriptions, I was an 'easy' baby and Mike was 'slow to warm'. 

An easy temperament baby is the one that everyone hopes will show up in their child. They are calm, flexible, easy-going babies. They love to be cuddled, but can be very happy for hours playing by themselves. As babies, these infants sleep well, eat well (unless there is a concurrent digestive issue) and their parents are likely to say "This baby stuff is hard, but it's do-able." Wilson had about a 45% chance of being an easy baby since I was, but alas, he is not.

Another form of an easy temperament baby is the "active" baby. They have the easy disposition, but can't sit still. As an infant, they develop physically very quickly and are constantly on the move. It is not uncommon for them to get into lots of mischief, be bored easily and be walking well before they are one year old. They can't sit still and they exhaust the crap out of their parents, but at least the kids are very happy while they do it. Parents of an active baby usually say things like, "This kid never stops!!!" Since neither Mike nor I had this temperament, Wilson had about a 5% chance of being active. But, thank goodness, he does not have active temperament. I'm way too old for to survive a child that can't sit still.

A slow-to-warm baby is basically a shy child. As an infant, they are slow to react to things: eating, sleeping, etc. They like to be cuddly with their parents and can be anxious when they can't see them. They use parents as the home base and need encouragement to try new situations and meet new people. Parents of the slow-to-warm baby say things like, "He's a little clingy..." Since Wilson was clearly not easy, I was holding out for this one. After all, he had a 45% chance of getting this one as well. But, nope. He was not.

The last main type of temperament is difficult. It's called that because this is the type that parents fear. Literally, the last possible type you would ever want. Babies that have a difficult temperament have a horrible time regulating ANYTHING. They don't easily regulate their senses, their sleep cycles, their eating, their emotions - so basically their whole lives. They cry over everything, need tons of constant soothing, cling to you like a suction cup, sleep like crap and eat irregularly. They are often comorbid with colic, but not all the time. Many parents think their children are difficult, until they actually meet a difficult child. There is no break, no end to the neediness of these little ones. Parents of difficult children usually say things like, "Do you want a child? Please, take mine!" Wilson had a 5% chance of getting this temperament. But my kid likes to play the odds.

Before 2 months, I noticed a few things in Wilson's behavior that were a little disconcerting. He had a hard time with transitions. When you switched his position, handed him to another person or even put him down, he would fuss a little. Mike and I responded by taking the time to soothe him and never rushed him. Consequently, his ability to handle transitions became much improved. I also noticed that the kid didn't sleep. He slept about an hour at a time (MAX) until I would put him on his belly, when he would sleep about 3 hours at a time (maybe). He also had issues with eating. If you've read my other posts, you know he hasn't been able to breastfeed - partially due to his low threshold for frustration, but even with the bottle, he was finicky about how we held it and what kind of bottle we used. Also, some days he would eat 35 ounces and others only 15 ounces. But he didn't really cry too much - he fussed a little and we could easily calm him down. So, I was hoping beyond hope that he was a slow-to-warm child.

At 2 months, I noticed a huge shift in Wilson's behavior. So much so that I thought he was teething. I could see a little white below the gum (still there), so I thought perhaps this atrocious behavior was due to him teething. But, now I believe it is stable enough to call his temperament. He suddenly found his lungs and would cry intensely over any discomfort. He could no longer easily fall asleep at night and began waking up more at night (5 to 6 times). He refused to be put down AT ALL during the day. And when I say refused, I mean that he cried bloody murder until he was picked up and consoled. He didn't like riding in the car, he doesn't like being in the stroller, he just wants to be strapped onto your body and jiggled. Good thing I had lots of carriers; I perfected baby-wearing and doing dishes and laundry with this baby strapped to me. Babywearing also became necessary for anything outside - including eating out or getting groceries. Here's the tough thing about "difficult" babies - you know that they are changed, they are fed and that their major needs have been met. So, you feel intensely manipulated - like the kid must be doing this to you on purpose. But this isn't a toddler (who knows how to manipulate). A baby doesn't even understand that you are a separate individual, so they aren't capable of manipulation. They are crying because they don't understand, are scared, anxious and unable to regulate and adjust like other infants. So what else can you do except go to your infant and help them when they are crying for your help so intensely? I knew the research about difficult temperament which says if you don't do this, they can end up with trust issues and major behavioral problems. Great. So, I know I need to be responsive consistently for this little man, but it was becoming really difficult.

At 10 weeks after he was born, I was at the end of my rope. I couldn't balance work with taking care of him at all. I felt like a little parasite had attached itself to me and was slowly sucking the life out of me. I loved (and still do!) him so much, but I was sleep-deprived, losing weight at an alarming rate (probably from all the jiggling and no time to eat), barely showered, had no time for self-care and was grieving the fact that my baby was not easy or slow-to-warm. My baby was just like my pregnancy and labor: difficult.

I did some meditation and realized that I had to change how I was seeing Wilson's temperament. I started a major shift in my self-care and began doing important things like eating and showering again (important stuff!). I had to make sure that I shared enough tasks with Mike to stay sane so that we could both be as responsive as we needed to be. Mike and I talked about the research on difficult temperament. Sure, it is really exhausting, but at the same time, difficult is the ONLY temperament where parental behavior can make a huge difference in the child's personality as an adult. Outside of abuse or trauma, an easy child will grow up to be a laid-back adult. A slow-to-warm child will always be a little shy. An active child will always be a whirlwind of energy. But a difficult child is completely dependent on their parents for what their personality will be like as an adult. Research shows that difficult children whose parents are responsive consistently and teach their child how to regulate grow up to have an easy-going, balanced and calm disposition as adults. They are stable, empathic and show leadership abilities. On the other hand, when parents are not consistently responsive, these children have academic, social and behavioral problems as older children, adolescents and adults. They can be quite anti-social and get into trouble a lot. So, even though that is a ton of pressure, it made me remember something. 

I remembered a poem that Linda shared with me when I was trying to get pregnant and for mother's day once I was pregnant with Wilson. It is essentially about how when you are dreaming of your child and hoping for them, that they are dreaming and hoping for you. In fact, they really chose you, rather than the other way around. And that encourages me that there IS a reason why Wilson came to us. He knew that we would always love him no matter what - no matter how difficult he was born. He knew that despite my sleep deprivation and utter exhaustion, I would never stop hugging him. That we would take a deep breath and talk him through whatever difficulty he was having. That I would jiggle and sing him to sleep when he was crying so hard because he couldn't shut down and was overtired. That I would get him to giggle even when he was miserable. That I would rock him when he was feeling unhappy and let him sleep on my chest when he didn't want to be alone. That I would always do my best to understand what was wrong and help to fix it. That he would always come first in our lives and his emotional needs were just as important to us as his physical ones. That I wanted him for so long that the fact that he was "difficult" wouldn't make me want him any less. That Mike and I could survive and help Wilson to become the person he is meant to be. Over the last few weeks, I have come to fully embrace his temperament, joke about it, plan for it and be thankful that Wilson came to us rather than 16-year-olds without a stable life and marriage (I love watching 16 and pregnant..it always makes me feel better) who may not know how to help him.

And one day when he is an adult, we'll be able to look at him and say "we did that; we helped him." And I'll remind him, along with stories of my 50-hour-labor, that without us, he might have ended up in prison, so there better be no nursing homes in our future. 

Addendum: I now realize that Mike was misinformed about his temperament; he and Wilson are carbon copies and share difficult temperament. This information really should be disclosed prior to breeding.