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.

First Day of Work with my little Junior Faculty

Since getting this mommy gig down, I've been wondering how I was going to balance my work as a professor and researcher with my job changing diapers and rearing a difficult, yet amazing and beautiful little boy. When I thought about going to work and having childcare (even though it would only have to be one day), I cried. In my soul, I want to live collectively - embracing both of my roles and mother and academic - and not having to sacrifice one for the other. Since I did get release time and after extensive pondering with my husband, best friend and mother, I decided to not use childcare and go back to work, with Wilson in tow.

Even though I have been working from home for quite awhile, today was my first day back in the office. Since I received release time for the semester, my workload looks like this:

• Teach a 1 credit class on Psychopharmacology for a shortened Saturday and Sunday
• Teach a 3 credit class on Lifespan for two Saturdays and two Sundays
• Teach a 3 credit class on Multicultural Counseling one night a week
• Cover Program Coordinator duties for 1.5 months while another faculty member is on maternity leave (because all we can apparently do in my department now is have babies...)
• Work on my one current research study
• Go in for 3 days during the week and for miscellaneous meetings as needed
• Bring Wilson with me for office time and meetings, Mike will pick him up after his work and before I teach on the one day a week

Given my usual ridiculous schedule and crazy demands, this semester is like a gift from the universe. Even more spectacular is the climate in my department, where everyone has agreed that I can bring Wilson in and they help me manage coming back to work as a professor and caring for my little life addition. I'm truly blessed to be able to go another 8 months with no childcare and have such a supportive department.

So, last night I did my usual work at night after Wilson goes to sleep, which is usually 8 p.m. to midnight. But unfortunately, Wilson fell asleep early and I woke him up at 8 p.m. to change his diaper and put him in his pjs (a break from our bedtime routine, clearly). After peeing through his diaper AFTER I changed him and being changed a second time, he was WIDE awake. So I let him play while I worked on updating my course content and finally got him to sleep at 10 p.m. Another hour of work, followed by pumping, followed by a quick shower to make myself semi-presentable the next day, followed by taking my melatonin gummy so that I can fall asleep quickly, I crawled into bed at 12 p.m. Wilson woke up at 2 a.m. and 4 a.m. to eat, because apparently he still feels as though he is 1 week old. His 4 a.m. wakings are always rough because if he doesn't feel physical contact, as in - he is laying on me - he won't go back to sleep. So from 4 a.m. to 5:30 a.m., Wilson had to have some body part on me, not providing for stellar sleep for me. But, either way, he was all smiles at 5:30 ready to rise.

So my morning routine? Get me dressed, get Wilson dressed, eat breakfast as I pump, then take Wilson from Mike as he finishes getting ready for work. I was out of brown rice cereal for Big Willy this morning, so I milled some brown rice and put some on the stove to cook to make sure he had cereal for the day. Then, we settled down at 7 a.m. for our beautiful morning nap, which gave me another 3 hours of sleep before getting ready for work, getting Wilson in his car seat, packing our plethora of bags in the car and driving off to Southern for a day of work. After unpacking Wilson, who clearly disapproved of the car seat and began screaming when we were 3 minutes away from work, I started on my main goal for the day: transform my office from maternity leave-office to mommy-professor office chic. And by maternity-leave office, I mean that it was a mess from me not caring and generally not being there - accompanied by too much stuff and no space for baby-related furniture, requiring me to move things, get rid of stuff and generally reorganize.

Within an hour, I had breastmilk on my shirt from Wilson drooling while eating, pear baby-food in my hair, flour from my sandwich on my dress pants and dust everywhere from moving furniture. Once he got tired, he was no longer content to lay on his own playing with toys, so I strapped him to my chest in his baby carrier and proceeded to move furniture and organize.

Throughout the day, I had many students come in, got to visit with faculty, MET my goal of getting my office completely organized into mommy-professor haven and Wilson did really well the whole time. He actually even layed in his pack and play for quite a while just content to play with his toys, take off his socks and watch the fan move the different items on my bulletin board. He giggled and hugged people (all whom had to use hand sanitizer before touching him!), content and allowing me to work. I stopped when he needed to be fed, changed, loved and put to sleep; when I was working, we were talking constantly as he played: I would talk to him and he would coo right back.

After leaving work, we met up with daddy for dinner, I pumped at home (after freaking out over a lost bottle of 8-ounces of breast milk - daddy found it!), then met up with friends Jess and Jess (my Jess') to go to yoga. Back home, took Wilson so Mike could get ready for bed, put Wilson to bed (three times since he was a little cranky and sleeping lightly) and now ready to settle in to do some more work before pumping and starting all over again.

I feel incredibly lucky to be able to work doing what I love and have Wilson with me. But, as I sit down tonight, lots of things are going through my mind. Am I being a good mom to him with my attention split at work? Am I being a good professor to my students if I have to interrupt an office visit to change a diaper? Will I still be taken as seriously with a baby strapped to my chest at a University? Will I take him to meetings with me? Will other faculty continue to support us being there together? Can I handle this type of schedule? Will I be ok without family close-by and no consistent childcare? WILL I EVER GET ANY FREAKING SLEEP?

I'm not sure. But I do know that this feels right. I never felt so authentic to who I am as a person than today. I got to be at the University and be around my students again, spend time with Wilson, go on a dinner date with Mike and spend some time with my friends centering and grounding myself at yoga. I may be busy (and slightly crazy to do this type of schedule), but I'm blessed and happier than I have been...maybe ever.

Poem for Wilson

I hold you a little longer tonight, my son
As I see the tears of those parents who
lost their children
just down the road.

As I feel the veil of sadness and confusion
that consumes our community
I look at you
just a little longer.

I kiss you just a few more times,
feeling your skin on mine,
hoping I will never feel
the tremendous loss that comes from losing a child.

I listen carefully to your laughs
for you know nothing yet of tragedy and trauma;
your innocence
still intact.

As I hold your little hands, I am frightened for you.
Worried for the scars that you may endure
Hopeful that we will never experience such tragedy
Praying that your generation will find peace.

No words can express the sadness I feel for those parents
as my new-parent heart bleeds in pain of the threat
of losing such a precious gift.
I search for a way to cope with the thought.

So, I hold you a little longer tonight, my son.
I look at you just a little longer.
I kiss you just a few more times.
I listen carefully to your laughs.
And I hold your little hands in mine
with the fresh realization that every second of our time
is a gift that can be taken away with no warning.

Meaning via Wilson

As I sit here tonight with a sore throat and stuffy nose from a cold that my husband and son gave me, several blocked milk ducts and mastitis, along with massive sleep deprivation from my little guy's teething nights, I am reflecting on why I feel like I wouldn't change a thing... How am I so happy when I am having such a hard time? So, for tonight's blog post, I want to reflect on the very positive things that being a parent has brought to me thus far.

1. Every experience has much more significance. Before Wilson, the highlights of my life had to do with my successes: going to college, graduating from Yale, getting my professorship, getting tenure and promotion. I also valued my relationships: getting married to Mike, my love for my family - my mother, father and brothers, and my life with my pets. But, now, things that seem mundane take on new significance. Just sitting around the house before would have had no significance except for extra sleep. Now, it's exactly the opposite: Laying on the couch each morning with Wilson as we drift into a cozy co-sleep nap, changing his diaper each morning amid smiles and giggles, the way that Wilson nuzzles into my neck as I rock him to sleep each night. And I realize that life has not become only about the major events in my life, but about the little moments - that I will treasure forever.

2. My life is no longer shallow. I used to think about what new electronic goodie I needed, what new restaurant I wanted to try for dinner, what movie I wanted to watch, what publication I was working on or what clothes and makeup I wanted to buy. Now I worry about making the right decisions for my son, providing him with enough enriching experiences, making our home peaceful and calm, being a good mother and providing him with a good life and good values.







3. I am much more instinctual rather than cerebral. I embrace my nerdiness and my nature as an academic; I am in my head analyzing everything most of the time. But at 3 a.m. when the baby needs a bottle, I am never thinking about what needs to be done - I am acting on instinct. I often surprise Wilson's other caregivers as I often know immediately what he wants or needs - not based on his cues or cries, just based on my intuition and instinct. I fully embrace this new-found state of being - no doubt, no neuroticism, no anxiety or analysis paralysis. Just acting naturally in the way I feel I was intended to be.

4. I have a new social network. I often wondered why my friends who became parents had little time for their previous single or non-parent friends. Now I know that you have little time for anyone or anything! But, there is something comforting about affiliating with other parents that helps you on this journey. It helps you to figure things out, gather advice, to feel more normal, to appreciate your little ones, and to provide opportunities for the family to be together with other families. I love the new friends I have made, as well as the groups that I am in (virtual and otherwise). I would never have met these wonderful people without becoming a parent, as my pre-parent life did not allow me to travel much outside my typical life and comfort zone. 

5. I am able to so easily be in the moment. It used to be difficult to focus on staying in the present, not worrying about the past or the future, but those things do not even enter my mind when I hold Wilson close. His smiles, his hugs, his love for the simple things - giggling at the dog, cooing at my singing or "conversing" with me makes me appreciate our little moment in time.

6. My 'eyes' are new. Things that were boring and repetitive before are now interesting and new. The way Wilson looks at the sun shining in through the window, how every time Wilson sees his "Leo" (his little Lion blanket toy) he gets excited, a Dr. Seuss book, how a blanket is so soft and comforting, how a silly jumper can be incredible fun and how music makes you feel such happiness. Wilson has allowed me to look at the world in a new way; the same world I took for granted every day and would never be able to "see" without him.




7. The best thing I have ever done. When I hold Wilson's tiny hands, kiss his head, return his beautiful smiles, marvel at his strong grip, listen to his contagious giggles and hear his soft voice, I can not believe that I had a part in his creation. That out of the love I had for my husband, we made this perfect being together - That my body helped to hold and nurture him until he was ready to survive and thrive on his own. As a woman, I have always had a love-hate relationship with my body, but after Wilson, I will never again take it for granted for it gave me Wilson.

One thing is sure: my life is forever changed by this little guy. And even though being a parent is the hardest thing I have ever tried to do, it is easily the most meaningful and fulfilling. I know that these short three and a half months are just the tip of the iceberg, so as I sit here stuffed-up, tired and sore, I still look forward to what I haven't seen on this journey yet - even if I have to drive over a few bumps in the road to get there.


 

Adventures in Breastfeeding, Continued...

I'm not entirely sure if I should still be calling this post "breastfeeding" since I'm exclusively pumping, but since breastfeeding moms tell me that pumping is way harder, I'll go with it. Since I last posted on breastfeeding, things have progressed, but not in the "natural, I am so peaceful here feeding my baby" way. I continue to pump and have about 300 ounces stored, in addition to having his daily milk covered. And I am only pumping three times a day, which is virtually unheard of. After talking to a friend who exclusively pumped for over a year, I got some advice on how to get a large supply and be able to maintain long-term. With the assistance of my mother who cared for Wilson for a week while I pumped EVERY 2 HOURS AROUND THE CLOCK, I built up a large supply. I then tailored it down to every 3 hours, 4 hours, etc. until I finally made it to every 8 hours. I take a Fenugreek supplement three times a day to keep my supply consistent. Not only does it do that well, it also turns you into an IHOP because it makes you smell like maple syrup. Seriously. My dogs want to lick my arms for no apparent reason now. But, I guess that is a good side effect on those days when you can't get a shower because of the baby.

I remember saying to my best friend, "I don't care if he can ever latch, I just want to make enough milk to feed him." Well, be careful what you wish for my friends, because Wilson is 15 weeks old and has yet to latch. We still try. Sometimes he mouths at the breast and laughs at me. Sometimes he really tries, but looks confused. Recently, however, I have decided that it wasn't necessarily a bad thing that he is not nursing, since my freak of a baby is teething at 3 months old. I am well aware of over-achieving, but this is ridiculous! I was a little wary of predicting teething since I thought he was before and it was actually his lovely difficult temperament showing itself, so I didn't really say anything at first. First, I had to get the bibs out because he was drooling like it was an olympic sport that he was practicing. Then, he started rubbing at his cheek, leaving a little red spot of dry skin and several wolverine-fingernail scratches. Then, he got a cold and an ear infection. Then, my husband asked if Wilson had recently encountered a zombie because he was literally biting at anything that came near his face. Toys, blankets, our hands AND the nipple on his bottle. He actually tore a nipple one night and we poured milk all over ourselves (aka liquid gold - cry!). But, I sat there thinking. "Huh. That could be my nipple right now." And I was never happier to be pumping exclusively. 

Until a few days later when I felt a little weird after pumping to look down and find a giant blood blister on my nipple. Now, I wasn't sure what to make of this, except that it kind of hurt and looked bad. So I did the obligatory google search and found that it was a normal thing that happens sometimes in breastfeeding and pumping. I didn't think that it was too bad until the next time I pumped...when it popped. Then and every time I pumped, there was excruciating pain from the unhealed wound and I would literally have to brace myself with tears coming down my cheeks when I first started pumping. Luckily, someone from my Yoga Mommies Face Book group advised to put ice on it before pumping, which made it go from excruciating to NO PAIN. I love that woman. 

The other thing that I was advised to do was to express some breastmilk on it to keep it healing, which also worked wonders. Which brings me to my next thought: have you ever seen the movie My Big Fat Greek Wedding?  The father in it carries around a bottle of Windex and uses it for everything from a rash to a cut to a pimple. Well, I think breastmilk is the new (or old?) Windex. I have used it to heal my own cuts, heal Wilson's dry skin (when combined with calendula lotion), heal an infection in his eyes when he was a newborn, heal his ear infection (combined with garlic drops), prevent Wilson from getting a cold that I had when he was 2 months old and healing his little Wolverine scratches on his face. If this stuff is so amazing, it makes me wonder why we don't bottle it and use it more. Probably because it is freaking gross to think about. One doctor told a mom to drink her own breastmilk when she was sick because of the antibodies would help her get better faster. And that's probably true - but I could never do it. I still haven't tasted it and yet, I wonder why I am willing to drink a large farm animal's titty juice every morning with my cereal?

But anyway, I digress. So after slowly healing, I have noticed that this breast doesn't feel right. It's slightly swollen, feels warmer to the touch, is sore and occasionally feels like it is on fire inside. So, I probably have a clogged duct or mastitis, also side effects from nursing and pumping. When is this supposed to get natural?!?? So after flu-like symptoms all day and having a very sore boob, I dragged myself, my teething baby and my husband to get groceries so we do not starve this next week. When we got home, my husband said "Huh, what is this?" as he held up a piece of my breast pump sitting on the floor. My mouth hung open in shock and horror as I found the connecting pieces (the piece that holds together the flange, the bottle and the pump wires) spread about the floor, incredibly clean and with dog teeth marks all over them. "Seriously?!?!?" I cried as I ran around trying to find the other one and to make sure they did not get to my $500 pump. I apparently, in my teething-induced sleep haze forgot to put the parts on the counter to clean and left them wrapped in a cloth on my nursing bag on the couch. And the little bitches pounced as soon as I left. I hysterically prayed, driving way over the speed limit (without the baby in the car) to Babies'r'us late on Sunday night to get replacement parts, that they would be open and have them in stock.  They did.

So, I'm off to Dr. Smillie's again to treat the mastitis/clogged duct/burst blood blister and see how I can try to get this little teething monkey to maybe latch before he's 18 years old. Hopefully my next update will include someone besides the dogs trying to get to my breastmilk (namely my infant), less infections (for everyone) and more peaceful feelings of natural bonding. But, for now, it's 10 p.m. and time to pump again.