I get it.

So, it's been awhile since my last post. In addition to being Wilson's primary caregiver and night slave, I am teaching two summer courses (12 hours a week in the classroom), conducting two major research studies/presenting and publishing, serving on over 20 committees, running workshops for Baby Signs, taking 2 online courses to finish my requirements for licensure as an LPC and, with my husband's infinite assistance, trying to keep my house in order and pets alive. So for two weeks, when I found that all of my deadlines happened to fall in the same month, I asked Susi, who helps me with Wilson once a week and who has lovingly taken on the role of Abuela, to work 4 days a week for 2 weeks straight.

I am now about to admit something that I believe most mothers feel is incredibly taboo and rarely, if ever, talk about openly. I loved every second of those two weeks. I got up in the morning, kissed and played with Wilson, went back to sleep for a few hours, went to work, came home, put Wilson to bed and tended to him during the night (which, at the time, meant 5 to 6 awakenings during the night and just as many feedings. The thing I enjoyed, and that I had sorely missed, was the fulfillment of my work. I finished the web platforms for all of my summer classes and fall classes. I developed a new online course and found myself back in the classroom for a significant number of hours each week, interacting with students, grading a significant amount as well (my students will vouch that I pull no punches during the summer - they have just as much reading and assignments due in a shorter amount of time). I finished the program evaluation on Mutt-i-grees Social and Emotional Skills Curriculum and read all the comments about what a huge impact it is making on teachers and students. I pulled materials together for an award a student is nominating me for (teaching award) and got to read the letters where students talked about how much my teaching has made a difference in their life, personally and professionally. It felt like my identity was finally coming back and it felt so great. 

On Monday of this week it was back to my typical primary caregiver role and I couldn't help but find myself disappointed, tired...and horribly guilty. As a mom, isn't it fulfilling enough to be a good mother? When you are away from them, aren't you supposed to be missing their every little coo and cry? At the conference I presented at today, a mother was telling me about her experience with her colicky, difficult daughter when she was a baby over twenty years ago. She talked about going to a park and meeting up with a wonderful stay at home mom who regaled the awesomeness of being a mother and loving every minute. This mother said, "What? Are you kidding? I can't wait to go back to work!!" And that is what I believe, most of us mothers truly feel, but are too scared or guilty to admit.

Being a stay-at-home mom sucks. You are a slave, all day long, to your children, your house, your working partner (my husband is a good exception to this and truly a superdad and superhusband who helps in any way he can), and, if you have them, your pets. As a stay at home mom, you don't get paid and you really don't get the recognition of how amazing it is that you keep your children alive, entertained, loved and don't go postal from watching too much Disney Jr. (If I get one more of those stupid jingles stuck in my head!!), answering incessant questions and chasing little people around all day. It never occurred to me to thank my mother for keeping me alive as a baby and toddler. I didn't realize how much work that takes when every second your child is trying to open up drawers with knives, smack their head on the floor after trying to run too fast, throw themselves down stairs, or climb up the stairs and inevitably fall to their doom. Now, I get it. Thanks, mom.

When I was pregnant, I didn't think the day would come that I would gladly leave Wilson with a sitter. Since I had fertility issues, I thought that having him would be all the fulfillment I need. But, many women need fulfillment outside of their role as a parent, as do most fathers. Stay at home moms sacrifice the part of their identities linked to fulfillment outside of the house; gaining respect as a professional; getting positive evaluations and raises; interacting with fully verbal adults all day; seeing your work pay off immediately. In addition, stay at home moms have to put up with people saying, "Why are you tired? You don't work!"When in reality, we pay child care providers a CRAPLOAD of money to do what we don't when we are at work; so much so that it really barely pays to work! Watching kids all day is challenging. It's hard. It's exhausting. I sincerely get it.

I also understand why we, as mothers, feel like we can't say this out loud. The morning I woke up with Wilson and only had about 4 hours of sleep to make it through the day, with him feeling ornery and uncooperative, with no help coming to relieve me for more sleep, I almost cried. And then I almost cried because I had almost cried. Does that make me a bad mother for not always wanting to be with my high-needs son? I love him; his giggles and hugs melt me. His little sloppy kisses and cries for "ma-ma" always make my day. I love watching him grow, see the things he discovers about his world and see what an amazing little boy he is becoming. I am grateful every day that I was able to have him and be blessed with his presence in my life.

But, here comes the horrible mother taboo number one: That is not enough for me to feel happy and fulfilled in my life. It is part of it; a big part, but being a psychologist and counselor, a professor, a researcher, a mentor, a writer, a wife, a dog-caretaker (I'm not going to lie; Mike is totally the cat-caretaker), a friend, a shaman is also part of it. I wondered how many other working mothers feel the same way and I was shocked; almost all of them said, when I asked, in hushed whispers, "Oh my god; I am so happy for my daycare/nanny/babysitter. I love my child, but I would die if I had to take care of them full time." And, again, I get it. Taking care of children is so freaking hard. I give mad props to all stay at home moms. You deserve multiple medals, awards of honor/recognition and a giant hand that face-slaps someone every time they say "But, you don't work..."

And working moms, I'm breaking the taboo for you. My job carries value and I love it. I enjoy it. And sometimes, going to work feels like a bigger break than going home. Don't feel guilty; I get it. I do recognize that my role as a professional and a parent have to be balanced. I do not want Wilson to ever feel that working is more important than he is to me. He is an amazing little being who has brought so much to my life and to my identity. I would die for him in a second. Mike and I are better people for having him in our lives. And I would be devastated if anything ever happened to Wilson; I can't even type that without wanting to sob. 

My parents taught me about the importance of a work ethic, of finding a job that fulfills you and gives back to others. A profession where I can provide for my family, find my strength as a woman and provider, be independent and rely on myself. I want to teach Wilson the same thing; that he can have a partner, a family, a home and a fulfilling profession, if that is what he wants. And he doesn't need to feel guilty for loving all of those things.

Judge McJudgie

Just a brief thought/post for today. I was thinking about what is one of the biggest things in my life to change from becoming a mother thus far - besides the whole lack of sleep thing. And even though I would have considered myself a pretty non-judgmental person before, I truly and sincerely have little judgment of anyone for anything anymore. I remember one of the mothers at my blessingway saying something to this effect: that you realize that in order to survive 'you gotta do what you gotta do'.

There are certainly many things I have already done that I never would have figured I would do. Ranging from letting Wilson watch television already (so that I could feed myself) to taking co-sleep naps with my son (I seriously have become that person!) to sleeping next to him while he plays in his jumperoo (seriously sad) to having a parent award moment at a local restaurant when Mike and I sat him in a high chair and didn't put the little divider between his legs, so he essentially almost slid out onto the floor. It's so easy to look at someone and think - what the heck are you doing? Pull it together, woman! But, as a parent, there are so many demands on you: limited sleep, energy, finances, sanity... Especially in this first year AND with a child with a difficult or active temperament, life becomes about survival.

So, I'm hanging on to sanity, loving my child and my husband, laughing at the good moments - and the crazy ones too, surviving through the tough ones and thanking the universe for the friends and family that have been helping us navigate this huge life change. And I'm thankful that next time I see a child screaming in the store and the mom hands him a candy bar, I won't be judging her; I'll be thinking, "You gotta do what you gotta do." Stay sane, sister.

Breastfeeding, Part...Whatever.

So, it's been awhile since I last wrote about the beauty (ha!) of breastfeeding. If you haven't read my other posts on the topic, you can do so here, here, and here. If you don't feel like reading it, let me give you the short version: Wilson doesn't latch, my best friend is my breast pump, nothing worked out as I hoped/planned, this image below is what I have sought to attain and have learned that, at least in our case, it's stupid, evil lies. Well, since that sounds a little harsh, let me explain.

So, the picture above of the peaceful, calm mom lovingly and easily breastfeeding her baby not only didn't turn out that way for us (or lots of other moms I know), it sort of makes me want to punch her. Not for successfully breastfeeding her baby, but for selling me the dream, since my experience hasn't been even close. To recap, here has been my experience with the beautiful experience of breastfeeding:

1. Wilson latching easily right after he was born, but only for a few seconds.
2. Wilson not latching at all for 2 days. That didn't stop several nurses from grabbing my boob and his head and feverishly trying to smash them together like they were velcro. Surprise: didn't work!
3. Wilson refusing to latch and screaming at my boobs when he saw them like they were going to eat him. Second surprise: The nurses traumatized my son trying to breastfeed so much that he was now afraid of boobs. Awesome!
4. I pumped with minimal luck. I tried to hand-express and even allowed my doula to attempt it (awkward, but I was desperate). Nothing. Tears follow.
5. Surprise! Milk came in! PAIN ensues. Pump flanges wrong size. Cried hysterically until Mike ran to get the correct size flanges and then I pumped for "reals yo". A LOT of milk, but not enough to meet my son's voracious appetite.
6. In order to get my production up, I pumped every 2 hours around the clock. Thank goodness for my mother who came to help with my high-needs baby-cakes. Got lots of milk and built up a freezer milk horde of which I was intensely proud. Went down to pumping 3 times a day. Liveable.
7. I wish I could draw to really give you an idea of how "beautiful" our breastfeeding sessions/attempts looked like. But I can't draw a stick figure, so you'll just have to picture this instead: a sleep deprived, barely showered, half-alert woman trying to focus her own calm and relaxation so as to encourage her son to breastfeed. He, looks suspicious and uninterested, sometimes latching - only to make a disgusted face and stop. Other times, he pokes his nose at my nipple and slaps my boob. Awesome. Good thing my self-esteem is not tied up in the success of breastfeeding...
8. Then I learned about nipple blood blisters and mastitis and the PAIN of pumping with clogged ducts and a breast infection. Now understand why I want to punch that picture above?

So, now you find me at 7 months into this and it's not gotten any more beautiful. What's happened since then you ask?

1. Wilson decided to go on a milk binge for his 4 month growth spurt and had 40 ounces of milk for 5 days (and still had an increased need for another 4 days). Do the math. Since I was only making 24 ounces a day, he made a huge dent in my beautiful freezer stash. At 6 months, he drank 56 ounces of milk for 4 days (and had an increased need for another 5 days). Freezer stash gone. I cried when I poured the last bag into his bottle. It was like saying goodbye to a friend knowing they will never return. Tears.
2. After your menstrual cycle returns, you suddenly PLUMMET in your supply. I went from pumping 24 ounces a day to 8 ounces a day. The need to supplement with formula was real and ego-crushing. Sobs.
3. I tried "power-pumping" to increase my supply. It's basically sitting attached to the pump for a few hours and for every 10 minutes of rest, you pump for 5 minutes. It does increase your supply, but it can also hurt and turn your nipple purple. So beautiful. 
4. I got mastitis again! Yay for me! I also found out what a milk blister was (different from a blood blister), as well as a sight I wish I could burn from my retinas of pumping blood instead of milk. Bet that is never on any pamphlets or pretty pictures from breastfeeding organizations! "Benefits to mother: lowers incidence of breast-cancer, self-esteem and ego! Increases bonding to your infant and bleeding out of your nipples." What a sell.
5. Wilson had a reaction to milk-based formula and is not great even on low-lactose formula so in addition to pumping still, we make our own goat-milk based formula. Yes, we are those people.
6. Our last attempt at breastfeeding started with Wilson making a face like the picture below (not kidding), while trying to pinch my nipple, scratch it and then bite it because he was teething. Needless to say, that was our last attempt at breastfeeding.   

But, am I ready to give up? No, I'm actually not. I'm not sure we will ever breastfeed (or even if I want to at this point), but I have seen how breastmilk has kept him healthy, healed his minor cuts and even helped his eczema. So, I'm going to keep pumping, even if I only get down to a few ounces a day, I think it's better than nothing. Maybe I just don't want to give up on the dream. I know it's attainable for some people. Maybe it's just not for Wilson and me. Maybe I'll have to have another baby to really truly experience the true and complete beauty of breastfeeding. Don't mention that comment to my husband; he may go on a permanent celibacy strike to protest...

Finding the bright side...

I just received a notice on my phone from Babies'r'us with an update to their facebook page, alerting me to the National Sleep Foundation findings regarding infant sleep. And I quote, "Infants typically sleep 9-12 hours during the night and take 30 minute to two-hour naps, one to four times a day – fewer as they reach age one." Let me speak for the parents with infants on the bottom of the sleep curve. SHUT IT. I don't want to hear about the beautiful sleep I shoulda/woulda/coulda had. 

I believe that whenever your baby doesn't meet the expectations of the norm or majority, you really feel like a failure. No matter how hard you try not to, you find yourself comparing yourself and your child to your peers and their children. It makes you uneasy, it gives you anxiety surrounding the future and it wrecks your self-esteem. And the worst part, is that when we fall short on these comparisons, we actually start to dislike the "others" or at the very least, you covet what they have: normality, ease and/or predictability. But, that's what we easily forget. There is no life that is "normal", easy or predictable. To think so is just an illusion; every person's life is difficult, albeit in different ways. Like a big, amazing house, the illusion of beauty makes you not see the large mortgage behind it. A rich person may seem happy, but, as research has found, there is actually a culture of emptiness and inner pain, depression and anxiety that is not easily seen from the outside for those in affluence. The bottom line: you really can't understand the difficulty in someone's life unless you walk in their shoes. So, the best thing we can do for ourselves is keep our eyes on our own lives, understand our challenges, but be thankful for what we have.

I understand our challenges as they are numerous, but I'm going to take a moment to be thankful for my current situation as I sometimes forget, especially when I'm sick, overwhelmed and, obviously, horribly sleep-deprived.

• I am thankful that I had amazing parents of my own who showed me what it means to be a loving and responsive parent.
• I am thankful that I met an amazing person who became my husband and father of my child. He's always thinking of how to be a better husband and father, even though he's already excellent at both.
• I am thankful that I have an amazing job that gives me the flexibility I need with my health condition and as a parent.
• I am thankful for my friends who are always there to listen when I am struggling and help out when they can. 
• I am thankful that Wilson is healthy.
• I am thankful that he is amazingly bright and alert, as well as quite communicative!
• I am thankful that he finds comfort by being connected to me (literally!).
• I am thankful that even though we have had minimal support, Mike and I are making it, in all the ways that count.
•  I am thankful that, as I just heard of another infant who lost his life tonight, that mine just interrupted this post for me to hold him closely and with all of the love I have in my heart.

And with that, I'm feeling very blessed.

Biting the Child Care Bullet...

So, I have had to come to a realization. I'm not super mommy. I'd love to be super mommy. I crave to be super mommy. But, I'm just not. Having to balance a high-needs, albeit beautiful and amazing baby with my super demanding career with crap sleep for seven months while having an immunodeficiency condition has made me realize that I CAN'T DO IT ALL. 

I feel like my life is some twisted sitcom where absurdity rules. Wilson is amaza-balls, but he is so high-needs that my husband and I have toyed with the nicknames "parent-cite", "cling-on" and "velcro baby".  He also doesn't do anything half-way, probably a characteristic I not so eagerly passed onto him. I believe this is what happens in his little brain: "Oh, it's time to growth spurt? I'll give you the biggest, baddest growth spurt anyone has EVER seen! Did that kid drink 30 ounces for an extra day? Well, I'll drink 56 ounces and get up 8 times at night to eat for seven days! Teething?! Let's get this show on the road and bring in all 16 teeth at once!" I shit you not. My 7 month old has multiple teeth, with 16 either erupted, erupting or being visible below the gums, is the size of an average 18 month old and is racing through his milestones like he's a Jamaican sprinter. What does this mean for me? Mostly, NO FREAKING SLEEP. He's cognitively and physically a hot mess and needs me to be responsive and encouraging 24/7.

My demands at work are also no joke. I teach 4 graduate classes a semester, have active research studies with grant support, publish regularly, am on 15 committees (some international), attend and present at multiple state/national conferences, provide consultation, participate in continuing education, own a business, am training therapy dogs, and am working on officially setting up my private practice. 

I may look über-prepared and put-together when I give a lecture and I may have looked super-professional when I was on CNN, but what you don't see is the giant pile of dirty laundry resembling Mount Vesuvius (and similarly threatening to erupt) in my bedroom, my zombie, make-up-less face when I just get up (where I, for a brief minute, consider quitting this bitch called responsibility/life and sleeping for 4 more days), or when, like this morning, I had a brief temper tantrum at my breast pump because it wouldn't suction properly so I choked it emphatically while yelling at it, which makes no sense since I can't threaten a machine into submission. 

And before this week, I've done all this in the last semester with only getting childcare one day and help from my family for the 3 days when I was traveling to California for a presentation. But this week as I faced a teething, sick Wilson, being sick myself and work piling up, I had to get childcare support. I knew that getting healthy, working and taking care of Wilson were mutually exclusive goals; and when I nearly passed out after pumping from being so sick, I told myself, "Self... suck it up and pay for help, because girlfriend, you freaking need it." (I sometimes talk to myself in the third person, further evidence, I need better self-care...)

So this week, I got help. And I'm not going to lie. It was amazing. I dosed myself with Nyquil and slept, blissful in the fact that Wilson was safe and happy, and when I awoke I was able to get caught up on most of my work. I know that I'll never be comfortable having Wilson in consistent childcare, but I need help, so I'm going to take it, appreciate it and enjoy it. So, off to co-sleep (the last half of this post I had to type with one hand and jiggle Wilson back to sleep with the other) and tomorrow: I tackle Vesuvius before my husband divorces me for being messier than a college freshman.  

New Dads' Instruction Manual

So, as I have watched Mike worry and learn his new role as "daddy", I have begun thinking about how this life transition impacts men, particularly working fathers. It's pretty hard for new mothers to be sensitive and empathic to what dads are going through, since we, as moms, are going through so much. So I'm really writing this for both new dads and moms.

New Dads' Instruction Manual

Congratulations! You have become a new dad! Your life is about to become a whole lot more interesting. However, surviving this new gig intact (i.e., without your wife killing you) is trickier than you may think. This manual is not meant for all new dads, particularly not for stay at home dads, who actually may feel the need to give this manual to their wives rather than vice versa.

1. Hang onto your pants, mister. Your schedule is about to change.

Before Mike and I had Wilson, this was Mike's schedule:

Monday through Friday (September through June)
6:40 a.m.   Get up and Get ready for work
7:15 a.m.   Leave for work
7:45 a.m.   Arrive at work
12:00 p.m. Lunch break
1:00 p.m.   Back to work
3:00 p.m.   Head home
3:30 p.m.   Get home
3:30 to 10:30 FREE TIME
10:30 p.m.  Get ready for bed
11:00 p.m.  Sleep

Weekends and summers meant minus all of the work stuff out and add FREE TIME to all day. My husband had time to game endlessly, stay up late if he wished, eat out, play with his friends, go to the gym, basically do anything he wanted. This would be his schedule now:

4:00 a.m.   Get up and watch Wilson while I sleep for two hours
5:45 a.m.   Watch Wilson while I pump breastmilk7:00 a.m.   Finish getting ready for work
7:15 a.m.   Leave for work
7:45 a.m.   Arrive at work
12:00 p.m. Lunch break
1:00 p.m.   Back to work
3:00 p.m.   Head home
3:30 p.m.   Get home
3:30 p.m.  Change clothes, check email
3:45 p.m.  Watch Wilson while I pump breastmilk
5:00 p.m.   Watch Wilson while I make dinner
6:00 p.m.   Take turns watching Wilson while we eat and do basic tasks, like washing dishes, feeding our dogs, going to the bathroom
6:30 p.m.   Help give Wilson a bath, lotion him up, put him in his pj's and start to give him his evening bottle, then hand him off to me for sleep
8:30 p.m.   Sleep
Weekends and summers will now transfer from free to time to taking turns watching Wilson. Only recently has Mike been able to game and have much extended time at all to himself.

This blows. And there is nothing you can do about it unless you want to get divorced. Because the moment you refuse to take turns or help at all at night is the moment your wife/gf is going to smack you silly, hate you silently and/or curse your very existence.

2. Never complain about number 1.

You might think that since your life has changed oh so much, you could bitch about it a little. Au contraire. Because below is what your significant other's schedule probably looks like.

12:00 a.m.  Up with Baby, feed and put him back to sleep
2:00 a.m.   Up with Baby, feed and put him back to sleep
4:00 a.m.   Up with Baby, feed and put him back to sleep; then run upstairs to sleep for an hour and a half.
 5:45 a.m.   Get parts ready, pump breastmilk, prepare bottles, clean and store parts
7:00 a.m.   Take Wilson and give him another bottle, pray that he will sleep for a little while
7:00 a.m.-3:30 p.m. Hold Wilson CONSTANTLY while feeding, changing him, jiggling him, taking care of his every need. I can run for maybe 2 minutes to feed myself and go to the bathroom. Wilson won't sleep independently during the day, so if I want him to sleep, he has to sleep on me. This means I am literally tied to him and the couch.
3:45 p.m.   Get parts ready, pump breastmilk, prepare bottles, clean and store parts
5:00 p.m.   Make dinner for everyone
6:00 p.m.   Take turns watching Wilson while we eat and do basic tasks, like washing dishes, feeding our dogs, going to the bathroom
8:00 p.m.   Help give Wilson a bath
8:30 p.m.-9:00 p.m. Take a bath by myself and read a chapter in my book (this doesn't always happen because Wilson has .
9:00 p.m. Take Wilson and get him to bed.
10:00 p.m.  Get parts ready, pump breastmilk, prepare bottles, clean and store parts
9:00 p.m.-12:00 a.m. Work on my publications, research, email. Get up periodically with the baby who is teething, needs snuggling, generally doesn't sleep.

Note the distinct lack of a break, free time, driving time alone, interactions with other adults, time to pee, and lack of sleep. Note that 3 times a day I use a mechanical device to pump milk from my body, which adds up to 3 hours a day. AND I am now back to work, so some of those daytime hours include going to work WHILE taking care of Wilson.

3. In fact, just never complain.

Saying things like, "Well at least you get to stay home," "Didn't you have time for [ANYTHING] today?" "What do you do all day?" "At least you don't have to go to work." "Why don't you have time to eat?" "I am soooooo tired." "Sigh, why do you always have to have me do [WHATEVER TASK TAKES A HALF HOUR OF YOUR DAY TO DO]?" will result in immediate hatred and imaginary punching of your face. Any other job that required you to work all but a half hour a day, get no breaks and be in direct servitude to others is called slavery and would be a huge OSHA violation. So even given your stressful job, you still get breaks and are allowed to pee. When you complain about lack of sleep and don't ever get up with the baby, women see red. Your partner is making HUGE sacrifices for you and your child. They often spend any free time they have researching on the best choices for their baby (parenting style, sleep training, formulas, etc.). Unlike men, women tend to be silent sufferers. They will not say to you that they are suffering, exhausted and feel like they are barely sane. When you complain about something as a working non-primary caregiver parent, even if your complaint is valid, it stings like a stupid freaking bee. Don't question the logic, just accept that this is where your partner is coming from.

4. The baby will not respond to you like he/she responds to your partner.

New moms have hormones and a natural connection to their infant. If they are a stay at home mom as well, they also have LOTS of practice learning what your child needs/wants. They are in a groove. It often feels like as a dad, you just don't fit with your new infant. They squirm because you don't hold them in the exact right way that they want. You don't smell like yummy milk or have pillowy breasts to lay their head on. Mommies know when their babies want to play, what gets them to calm down and what the babies' schedules are without skipping a beat. You don't. It's ok. Don't expect to. You didn't carry them for 10 months or pass them out of your body through an inconvenient orifice. You don't feed and nourish them from your boobies. Your body isn't coursing with hormones which make you a hot mess, but also make you nurture and bond to this little guy or girl. You don't spend every waking moment taking care of their needs. And believe me, you probably don't want any of that. Accept that the baby is bonded more with his or her mommy and accept that in a few years, you will be cooler than cool to your child. At least until adolescence.

5. Say goodbye to the sex, at least for awhile.

After watching the birth, you may not be so eager to jump back into bed with your wife, but make no mistake, she is less eager. The trauma of birth, the hormones from breastfeeding, the lack of sleep and the general exhaustion makes sex look less interesting than dental work. Sorry. It's not your fault. It will get better. Give it time.

6. Your partner is forever changed. She's a mommy now. Beware.

You married (or bonded with) a beautiful, vivacious, exciting woman. She wasn't a nag; she let you have your space and she was the coolest chick you ever met. Then you had the baby. Now she's -- um, a bit different. Between the hormones, lack of sleep, loss of her body as she knew it, identity crisis and being constantly covered in breastmilk, spitup and poop, she's no longer cool. She'll get her groove back, but be patient. Roll with the nagging and mood swings. And make sure you tell her how beautiful she still is and how much you love her even more now.

7. Remember the things that will get you far in your relationship.

As a man, woman often seem illogical, unrealistic and just simply hard to understand. Sometimes you just don't know what to say to make it better for her. No more excuses; pick from the following list!

• I am so thankful for all the sacrifices you are making for our baby. 
• You rock!
• I see how hard it is to breastfeed. I know I can't help with it directly, but I want to do something to help, so I'm going to rub your back/feet/ wash the dishes/ burp the baby.
• You are an amazing mom and we are so lucky to have you in our lives!
• I know you worry about breastfeeding/formula/time spent with the baby/ other assorted issues, but no matter what happens, you are the best mom.
• I am so grateful that you get up with the baby at night. I know how hard it is and I really appreciate you making that sacrifice for me.
• Let me take the baby so you can go take a nap. (NOT Do you want me to take the baby? to which she will respond no because it makes her feel as if she is incompetent as a mother)

Add your own and recycle these. Mike has used all of these with me (without my writing them down and prompting!!) and I can tell you that hearing those words make a WORLD of difference to my self esteem, confidence and resiliency to keep going. And in turn, it makes your life better as well.

8. Expect to have a bit of postpartum depression.

People talk about this issue for women, but what you may not know is that it is very normal for fathers as well. The more you hold your infant, the lower your testosterone will be, creating a hormonal difference for men. Combined with your change in identity and loss of freedom, as well as that cool chick of a partner you had, and guess what, you have the baby blues as well. Get help and talk about it or it can get worse.

9. You need to be hands on.

HELP YOUR PARTNER. Do not let her be the only one who cares for the baby. Sometimes that means staying up at night, getting up early to let her sleep, changing diapers and putting teething gel on your baby's swollen gums. You may reminisce or dream of the days where men were just providers and not caregivers (the 50s and 60s), but stop. You are in a different generation as is your wife/gf. She has much more expectations (including a career) than women did in the 50s and 60s as well. So suck it up, you're not your grandfather and jiggle that baby.

10. Get HELP.

Take advantage of help from family and friends. Fully embrace your role as a big papa and hang out with other fathers. You can bitch about your new lives and enjoy your babies together at the same time! Bonus.

11. Control your stress levels.

You will be stressed out! Completely, utterly, stressed out. You will have limited leave, tons of parental responsibility, lack of sleep, financial strain, anxiety, lack of sex, depression, less time with your partner and less time for yourself. STRESSED. Take time for yourself when you can, be open and communicative with your partner and get help for yourself. We all do crappy things when we are stressed, so if you don't take care of it, you will find yourself taking it out on your new baby and your partner. To be the best partner and man, you have to admit when you need help and when you need to take a moment to calm yourself. Believe me, we will still find you attractive. Sexier even if you order dinner, rub our shoulders and tell us that we are a good mom. Seriously. Aphrodisiac to us.

12. You will ultimately, unequivocally, completely fall in love with your baby.

As horrible as I made all of this sound, you will be in love with this child. He or she is the most amazing thing you have ever laid eyes on and is a beautiful combination of you and your partner. They may not always have the best parts of you (like your temperament, sleeping style or ability to handle transitions -- ahem, I look at you, Mike), but they do have some of them (like your eyes, ability to see details, physical ability and already a great sense of humor - also due to Mike). They make you learn what life is all about, make you grow up, make you less selfish, make you love the little things and make you happy that you are leaving a part of you behind when you are done on this earth. The lows may be more low than you have ever experienced before, but the highs will touch the sky. Enjoy.

Sleep Shmeep

So it's 6:30 p.m. here and I just put my infant down to sleep. And now I'm going to pray to God, Buddha, my ancestors, whoever else who may be listening that he sleeps for longer than 2 hours. It has now been officially 2 1/2 months since Wilson hit something I never heard of before, but now could write a novel on: sleep regression. I hate its stupid guts, if indeed it has any. But, let me begin with this sleep tale at the beginning.

Before Wilson was born, I always had problems with sleep. I have had chronic insomnia (issues with falling asleep) since I was little. Over the years, I learned to shut off my mind by playing little movies in my head, but more times than not - it would always take me hours to fall asleep. When I was pregnant and in my first trimester suddenly it seemed like I was cured of this insomnia. I could fall asleep sitting up, standing up or throwing up. In my third semester, the insomnia came back, but it was more because I felt larger than the Titanic and had heartburn that made me want to scratch Mike's eyes out as he laid in bed and slept peacefully.

After Wilson was born, it was clear my sleep wasn't going to improve. He was a horrible sleeper from the time he was born. For the first month and a half, he slept no more than an hour at a time - if we were lucky he would sleep for an hour and a half, sitting up in his nap nanny chair (the recalled death trap that got us through the first three months with thankfully, no incident). We co-slept a lot, but he's a noisy sleeper and not always comfortable co-sleeping. So, we kept him in his pack and play and I slept in the living room on the couch getting up with him EVERY HOUR or so. After being so exhausted I couldn't take it anymore, I tried putting him on his stomach to sleep. And he slept for 3 hours right then and there. I was petrified, but since he had head control, was low on the risk factors for SIDS and my mother had reassured me several times that I had, in fact, survived not sleeping on my back, I slowly felt more comfortable leaving him to sleep on his stomach, eventually even at night. He slowly improved each night, until he was only getting up once a night by the 3 month mark. I was thrilled. I could TASTE a full night's sleep it seemed like it was so close. I moved him into his nursery and he began sleeping peacefully in his crib, only awakening at 2 a.m. or so for a small feeding. And then it happened. The bitch known as sleep regression.

So before 4 months, babies do not have any real sleep patterns and have more deep sleep than adults. But at 4 months, they start having cycles, which include light sleep. If they have required or are used to falling asleep with rocking, feeding etc., they may arouse and cry - needing your help to fall back to sleep. I realized that Wilson had a difficult temperament, meaning that he has issues regulating EVERYTHING, but I was in no way prepared for what happened next. He went from getting up one time to getting up every 1 to 2 hours again. I would put him down at 8 p.m. and get up at 10, 12, 2, 3, 4, 5 and then up for good at 6 a.m. AND sometimes he would wake up as soon as I would set him down in the crib, meaning every night, he would be up for at least 2 hours during one of those awakenings (usually from 12 to 2). So we went back to the cosleeping bassinet. Then the pack and play with me on the couch. Nothing worked. And he slept this way from 4 months to 6 months exactly. I kind of wanted to die.

Then, we went to see the Baby Sleep Whisperer for a workshop at Mother's Embrace Yoga (thank you Linda!). She was really great and gave us some wonderful tips. First, we looked at the nutrition he was getting and realized that he needed to get much more during the day. As a rough estimate, babies need the equivalent of 2 1/2 times their body weight in ounces. The real caloric intake is a bit different and much more precise. The real calculation is this: 1) Infant Weight in pounds divided by 2.2 = kg conversion. 2) multiply this number by 103 (if they are below 6 months) or 98 (if they are above 6 months) for caloric needs. So for Wilson who is 6 months old and 17 pounds, he needs roughly 757 calories a day. If he was exclusively on breastmilk, then he would need CALORIES NEEDED/ 21 or 757/21 = 36 ounces. When I just use the 2.5 formula - albeit MUCH easier, it looks like he needs 42.5, which is 6.5 more ounces than the real formula. Either way, between his food intake and milk intake, we were trying to work on getting him drinking more during the day. We also learned that if he was drinking only an ounce or two during the night, it was not for nutrition, but rather a sleep crutch.

Second, we had to do a better schedule for naps and night-time sleep. We instilled the following schedule and stuck to it: up at around 5-6 a.m., first nap was a co-sleep nap starting at 7:30 a.m., second nap at 11:30 on his own, last at 2:30 on his own, then bed at 6:00 p.m. I made the schedule to follow the sleep advice, along with what I observed were Wilson's own biorhythms. 

Finally, we kept a sound machine playing White Noise right next to him wherever he slept to signal that it was sleep time and to keep random noises from arousing him. 

Within the first day, he was doing great with his naps. And the more food we got into him during the day, the better he was at night. He usually got up at 10 p.m. and drank 6 ounces, however, he refused any more liquids or food during the day. He also would be very restless from 2 a.m. to 5 a.m. every night no matter what. 

We then tried our hand at some sleep training.  Because the research on cry it out indicates there are many large negative effects (some long-term), our one and only attempt at this in the car seat when we couldn't get to him right away ended with him losing his breath and turning purple, and the fact that it is the worst for infants with a difficult temperament, I decided to try a no-cry method - of calming the infant by holding him, then laying them back down to sleep. After a week of this, however, it was clear that Wilson's difficult temperament was no joke. The nights did NOT improve from the initial improvement and in fact, he was whinier and I spent every night AWAKE from 2 to 5 feeling like an idiot, trying to put him back down only to pick him right back up as he screamed bloody murder. I also felt like I was playing drums on his back since I was patting it so much to keep him calm. 

Since I know he can't manipulate me (he's too young for that), I eventually felt like I needed to listen to his communication. He's a crappy sleeper. He could win an award for it. He needs to eat once during the night at this point. Maybe in a few months, he won't need to, but for now, he still does. And from 2 to 5 a.m., he is uncomfortable and needs me. The next night, we co-slept in the same bed and he did amazing. Up once, then just needed some snuggling a few times in the wee hours and went right back to sleep. We enjoyed a whole 4 days of this.

Then 3 days ago, after drinking 4 ounces before bed, he woke up at 8 p.m. and was hungry. Hmmm, I thought. That's early. I put him back down and got into bed. He woke up at 10 p.m. and drank 6 more ounces. Hmm, that's strange I thought. Then he began squirming in bed. He rolled back and forth, kicking me in the kidneys several times. Then he rolled right up next to my back, threw his arm onto my back and began pinching and scratching me. "Wow, that's not conducive to sleep." I thought. And then he woke up wanting another 4 ounces. I called for Mike in a panic (who sleeps in the guest bedroom with his own sound machine so he can get some sleep before relieving me for an hour or two in the morning and then having to go to work all day) realizing that the 6 month growth spurt was now upon us.

So what does this mean for Mr. Wilson? Well, where some babies increase their intake and wake up a few times during the night, Wilson is again up every few hours and, I am not exaggerating here, drinks 42 ounces of breastmilk a day along with eating 12 ounces of baby food. Whereas most babies have a few days of a growth spurt, Wilson's usually last a week. Oh, and did I mention that he also has two teeth coming through his gums at the same time? Oh, and he has ezcema from allergic reactions to mango and a milk formula I tried to supplement him on - so he's itchy too.

So, I give the frack up. I'm not going to get sleep. I finally realize that it is very realistic that he may be over a year old before I get a full night's sleep. I'm so tired that when I went to teach this last weekend, some of my clothes were inside out. Unfortunately, I realized that fact while I was in front of the classroom. Thank god my students are forgiving. The lack of sleep has begun to affect my milk supply, my sanity and my marriage. Mike and I just held each other tonight and cried. And that's about as much affection as either of us is probably going to get for awhile since we go to bed at 7 p.m. in separate rooms and fill any spare moment with sleep, eating or maintaining proper hygiene. When other parents complain about a random hour awakening in the night, I want to stab them. When someone tells me that their child began sleeping through the night at a few months old, I wonder why the universe hates me so badly. But, I'm also not completely alone. I know of a few other parents who are going through this same thing. And a few parents who had children that didn't sleep through the night until well into their first year. 

So, what am I left with in my ponderings tonight? I still believe there is a reason that this little guy came to me. The universe must believe that Mike and I have the skills to survive this and help Wilson thrive. And hence has come my most recent, albeit sleep-hazed existential realization. There are those children that go to sleep through the night when they come home from the hospital and others who within the first few months begin sleeping through the night. They are not common, but they are at one end of a normal curve of sleep. And my little guy is at the other. It's not that he doesn't want to sleep or is trying to be difficult. He just has a really tough time regulating anything. He grows too fast, is teething too early, has problems regulating his emotions and is just all-around high needs. So, my realization has been this: nighttime parenting is no different than daytime parenting. Mike and have made it our goal to teach Wilson by modeling positive behavior, not just telling him what to do (and not following our own advice). We teach him responsiveness, kindness, compassion, gentleness and love by how we respond and behave towards him. And that includes the nighttime. If we let him cry when he is hungry or in pain, then I am defeating the purpose of being responsive during the day. But, just maybe, if we continue to be responsive now, even when we are exhausted ourselves, hold his little hand and hug him when he is having trouble sleeping, he will learn that no matter how you feel, you always are kind, loving and respectful to others, especially to your family.

And, I have to admit, even given the fact that Wilson is actively teething, having an allergic reaction and going through a growth spurt AT THE SAME TIME these last few days, he is amazing - full of smiles, gives us hugs and kisses and has been as independent as I've ever seen him. He occasionally needs to be held and reassured, but he doesn't really cry for no reason, nor is it hard to calm him down. He just eats like an elephant (over 50 ounces of breastmilk today with 12 ounces of food) and sleeps like he's on crack. And if I knew that before we were pregnant, would we still choose to have him? Absolutely - I wanted him for years and was heartbroken when I thought I would never meet him. So, tonight, as I hold his little hand in mine, kiss his little head while feeding hims his 5th bottle, I'll know that we are strong enough to survive this together.