The Dichotomy of Motherhood

(Photo courtesy of my obliging hubby)

Motherhood is this strange dichotomy.

A constant push-and-pull between the needs of the present and the desires of the future.  For me, the needs of the present shout and cry and wave their petulant fists: "I need to do the dishes (because we are completely out)! I need to pack up the house! I need to take a shower! I need to get some SLEEEEEP!"  The shouting is usually when she is refusing naps, or not going to sleep at bedtime. (The crying occurs in the 3am hour.)

But at the same time, my knowledge of the desires of the future are like little whispers: "The dishes can wait. She's only small for so long. You'll miss this some day. Look at her little fingers holding onto your shirt. Listen to her little breaths. She won't let you do this when she's 12, or 16, or 25. Embrace it now."

So I hold her a little longer tonight. I watch her little chest rise and fall, watch her eyelids shudder as she begins a night of dreams. I know this time is so short. Tonight, I think of the future, and leave the dishes for later.

Grr....Arrgh

I have been trying to put Aria to sleep for the last hour and a half. She has been crying off and on that whole time.

See this girl?

She no longer exists.

She has been replaced with a she-wolf who acts like she needs no sleep yet cries like a banshee when she doesn't get it.

She has literally changed her sleep behaviors 180 degrees since she was 0-3 months old.

0-3 Months

• Would sleep anywhere--on my chest, in our bed, on the floor, on a chair, in her swing, in her rocker--except her car seat, where she would scream.
• Took 34 naps a day (or, more accurately, was awake a total of 3 hours a day).
• Did not need any special blankets/swaddles/sound machines/pacifiers
• Slept 5-7 hour stretches at night
• Could be laid down and fall asleep without any interventions

Currently (almost 6 months)

• Only sleeps in her car seat.
• Wants to take 3 naps a day, but will only really take one--maybe two if I'm lucky. Depending on car rides for extra naps.
• It's sleep machine plus sleep sack or no sleep. Really only wants to sleep in our bed, but we've been working on moving her to the crib. It isn't going well.
• Sleeping 2.5-3 hour stretches at night
• If she falls asleep with the pacifier in, God help us if it falls out.
• Averaging a 35 minute go-to-sleep intervention, involving nursing, rocking, shushing, crying it out (completely ineffective), laying in our bed, laying in her bed, pacifier, no pacifier, tag-teaming with Dad, tagging back to Mom, falling asleep and then putting her down and having her wake up to have to do it all over again.

I seriously HATE this. After the 1.25 hour mark tonight, I just said "goodnight" to the screaming baby, closed the door and had to leave. I was SO PISSED OFF.  Just &(^^@(*ing sleep already, kid. You're pissing me off.  Nick went in and got her to sleep finally. (Thank you, husband!)

THIS is why I don't want any more kids. THIS is why I cried big bucket tears when we found out we were having another one. I didn't want to have to go through this AGAIN. Yes, babies are cute and snuggly and have squishy cheeks and pinchable thighs, but the incessant sleep training/loss/nonexistence is enough to make a woman go crazy. I need this kid to go to bed at 7pm. If she doesn't, then that's just more time in the day where she is latched on to me. And I completely love my kids, but if I don't get a good, solid 2 hours away from them before I go to bed, I become a bad mom.

(Edited to add: her first tooth pushed through yesterday, and it is a full moon--which might explain the last two nights--but not the three weeks prior to this.)

To My Secondborn

Dear Aria,

I feel like I need to apologize to you.

Yes, you are only 4 months old, but this is a big one.

I'm sorry I didn't want you.

Before I got pregnant, while hanging out with my 13-month old, I would have dreams that I was pregnant, and I dreamt about how I would get rid of it somehow (I think I had a "baby in a basket in the Nile like Moses" dream). Then, when I found out I was pregnant, I actually had several days where I considered not telling anyone and giving you up for adoption. There are so many people out there who want babies, and I. Did. Not.

It's no secret I had a hard time with Avonlea. I had postpartum blues, I had trouble breastfeeding, Avonlea cried all the time and ate all night long, and it was exhausting. We were pretty happy being a family of 3, and I knew it would take a lot of planning (or a lot of booze) to get me to want to be a mom to another baby.

But God had a different plan. And when Avonlea was 13.5 months old, we got pregnant again.

And I was MAD. And sad. And frustrated. And scared. Boy, was I scared. I didn't think I could do it again. I didn't WANT to do it again.  And that feeling lasted much longer than it should have. For about 5 months, I really didn't want you.

And for that, I am sorry.

Because beautiful baby girl, you are an AMAZING gift. You are an incredible baby. Nearly perfect, if I say so myself. :) Sure, you have crying fits. Every baby does. But you spend most of the day in a lovely, smiley mood. You're super-easy to put to sleep. You sleep in my arms with a swaddle or without, and you're pretty content in your own bed with a good tight swaddle. You take a pacifier. You take a bottle (though, I haven't tried recently). You wake up only a couple times a night, and go right back to sleep without needing to be rocked or shushed. You take LONG naps during the day. You are happy and cheerful, and you smile at everyone.

With Avonlea, I was super-excited all pregnancy, and then spent the next 6 months wondering what in the world I was thinking. With you, Aria, I spent 4 months wondering what in the world was I thinking, and then have spent every minute since you have been born marveling at how incredible you are.  I'm sorry I didn't want you.

Because now, I can't imagine life without you.

Love,
Mommy

To Know or Not To Know...

...that has been the question.

I haven't been diligent about writing through this pregnancy, but we decided a while ago that we weren't going to find out the gender of this baby.

We didn't want to find out with Avonlea--but due to an over-eager nurse, we were told early. So, we decided that with this one, we would try again.

And it has been fun not knowing. To be able to anticipate and wonder, to thrill in the unknown. I wasn't worried about the "things" aspect. We registered for mostly gender-neutral gifts with Avonlea, and I wasn't worried about clothes, because some of our really great friends have had boys, and so I knew we would have clothes. Plus--who cares if you dress a newborn in a wrong-color onesie? You have to tell strangers what it is anyway!

There *has* been a problem with not knowing, though, and it relates to this post I wrote in December. I have found it hard to connect with this baby. Not that gender has a huge effect on that, but I think it definitely would help me to be able to connect. To get ready, to get closet space filled up, to settle on a name, to start calling the baby by something other than "Biscuit".

I mentioned this disconnect several times to Nick, and he asked if finding out the gender would be helpful for me. After thinking about it, I decided that yes, it would.

Fun fact: Did you know that we have had the ultrasound result on our refrigerator since I was 19 weeks pregnant?

And NO we didn't peek once! We decided at my 19-week ultrasound to have them put the results into an envelope--at that point, I was gung-ho about NOT looking, and Nick was 50/50 about it. We put it on the fridge, and if we decided we wanted to look, then we could.

People couldn't BELIEVE we hadn't looked at it when we told them it was on the fridge! My neighbor, Sunni, actually said she was going to come and look when we weren't there, because she wanted to know so badly! It just wasn't a temptation. With Avonlea, I found out what we were having when Nick was at work, and I didn't want to find out again without him; and when he was home, we didn't really talk about it. It honestly didn't come up.

At our 19-week appointment, the doctor saw that I had a low-lying placenta, so we had to come back at 26 weeks for another ultrasound to check on it. At the 26-week appointment, he saw that the placenta had moved up to where it should be (yay), and then checked over the rest of the baby. He moved it to the "find out" area, and then pulled the wand away--but had it there long enough that both of us thought we had seen something definitive!

Of course, a couple of hours later, I was able to talk myself out of what I had thought I had seen. :)

But anyways, because of the disconnect, we decided that we would look on Christmas Day.

Want to know what we're having?

Well, you'll just have to wait until February 3rd to find out!  'Cause we're not telling!  Feel free to leave your guesses in the comments!

(For the record, one of us guessed correctly, and one of us was surprised.)

Unhinged by the UnGame

Nick and I recently returned from vacation. Actually, I should probably call it a "vacation", as it was a LOT of work, and not a lot of rest, or escape from my daily reality, as often a vacation purports to be.

But I can write about that (and about how Avonlea did with it) at another time.

In this post, I'm going to write about the sad realization I came to on vacation (and, in the days since our return, have continued to dwell upon).

In the car, whenever we have long drives, Nick and I play the "UnGame".

This isn't really a game (hence, the name UNgame). It's a box of two sets of cards. Each card has a question or a statement on it, and you take turns answering the questions or responding to the statements.  For example:

We got the game as a gift from my friend Jenn for our wedding, and it is one that we carry with us on all of our trips. It's good to pull out when someone is getting tired, or we have a long distance to travel.

Well, for the first time since we have had this game, a question really stumped me. It's a question that, prior to maybe 9 months ago, I would have had a ready answer for. Definitely one I could have answered 3 or 5 or 7 years ago.  That question was,

What are 3 things you would like to be doing in three years?

Now, perhaps I am being overly dramatic. Perhaps pregnancy hormones are getting the better of me, and making me all down and dreary. Perhaps I just had a brain fart.  But I could not, for the life of me, think of 3 things.

Even now, a few weeks later, I can't think of anything.  Why is that??

I've been dwelling on the "why" of this situation for weeks. Why am I having so much trouble thinking of what I would like to be doing? It's not like this is a life or death question. There isn't any money on the line. No one is going to be recording my answers--after all, how I would have answered this question 1 or 4 or 10 years ago is no longer relevant.

But the fact that I have trouble answering the question disturbs me.

I guess it is because every time I think of what I would LIKE to be doing in three years, a little voice (or block, or hiccup) in my brain says, "Yeah, but you're going to have a 5 year old and a 3 year old in 3 years--what are you REALLY going to be doing for yourself?"

I think over the 16 months I have spent as a mom, and consider how dramatically my life has changed--the infrequent nights away, the slow loss of personal time during the day (less time to do things for me--more time doing things to just get by), less and less ability to do hobbies that interest me. I have lost myself as I have become a mom, and I guess I don't see that changing at all now that we're having another one--in fact, I only see it becoming worse.

I guess I kept waiting for "the moment" when I would be able to become "me" again. Maybe it was when Avonlea would sleep through the night (still hasn't happened), or when she stopped breastfeeding (still hasn't happened)--I would be able to do some of the things that I loved before I had a baby. I would be able to devote more time to it, instead of squeezing it in during nap time or after she goes to bed, when I'm too tired to do what I love.  But, that "moment" hasn't arrived, and now that we're having another one, that moment seems to have moved so far down my life timeline I can't even see it anymore.

I guess I need to pause and clarify--I love my daughter. I love staying home with her. I love that I have been able to breastfeed her and take care of her daily. Please, in light of everything else I am writing, let that be very firmly said.

I just wish I didn't feel like I have lost myself along the journey. I look 3 years down the road, and I can see myself staying up until 11pm--but I am not watching a movie, or having date night, or having friends over to play games, or reading, or going for a run--all things that I used to love. Instead, I see an exhausted mom, cleaning the kitchen, scrubbing a high chair, scruffy hair and no shower, and wiping down the bathroom counters for the first time in weeks because this is the first chance I've gotten to do it. I see many years of jiggly belly and peeling nails and much-delayed haircuts and gray hairs, and it's discouraging.

I so much want to have an answer to the question--What would I LIKE to be doing in three years?--but right now, my life is getting in the way of being able to answer it.

Pee Stick and Telling Nick

(Written on June 11, 2014)

So, I've had a few days to process.

I am pregnant.

I am going to have another baby.

I am going to have another baby.

I am going to have another baby.

I am going to have another baby!

(Say those sentences in a progressively louder and more hyper-sounding voice, and you'll have my inflection down perfectly.)

To say I was surprised would be an understatement.

I'm not sure why. I mean, we were having unprotected sex. Hello, that's how babies are made! I'm not sure what we were thinking on that one, other than figuring it took us so long last time that it probably wouldn't happen so easily.  Honestly, with Nick and I, we tend to just not think about it.

Wanna know a secret? We have never used a condom. Seriously. Almost 9 years of marriage, not once. No sex before marriage, so no possibility there. First 5 years of our marriage I was on birth control, and the next 3 years we were trying to have a baby. I've never opened one of those foil packets. We've never even bought any. I wouldn't have any idea where to start. I probably could've sent Nick to go get some (he would have a better idea than me, I'm guessing), but honestly, I didn't even think to ask him to. So, over the last 14 months since Avonlea has been born, we've just been....well, au naturel, as they say.

That's probably irresponsible, especially since I was so freaked out to have a baby.  But I genuinely, honestly, had NO IDEA we would have any success again. It's like the little part of my brain that remembers how babies are made just inconveniently forgot about it. And it's not like I frequent the condom aisle at the drug store, either, so as to be subtly reminded.

Over the last few weeks, I have had weird moments of thinking, "I'm pregnant." I took the pregnancy test after a couple of days of thinking, "I think I'm late." When I clipped coupons this month, I clipped some pregnancy test coupons. I was having nightmares about being pregnant. I was daydreaming about if people would think I was crazy if I called adoption agencies to give up the baby I was dreaming I had. I was relieved when feeling what I thought was my pre-period cramping, and wore a pad one night, just in case (that was a waste). When I took the test, a little voice in the back of my head said, "It's going to be positive."

I took the test while Nick was out re-enrolling in AAA for the year, and left it in the bathroom for a while, forgotten, while I looked after Avonlea. I only remembered to go in and look at it because Nick arrived home, and I didn't want to freak him out with a used pregnancy test in the bathroom.

Last time, immediately after finding that little blue line, I was a smidge disappointed (which I detailed in this post).

This time, I was downright freaked. out. Full on, horror movie levels of scared. Approximately one million and one thoughts screamed through my head at the same time: "I can't do this. I still have a baby--how can I possibly be prepared to take on another one! I've seen my friends who have a toddler and a newborn--they look like they want to go into fetal position at any moment. I can't handle that! I'm not back to my pre-baby weight! I'm going to get so incredibly fat! I can't do this. I can't DO this!"

After the fear, came the shock (and irritation): "Seriously? Again? STUPID Allison. WHY didn't you go and buy some freaking condoms?!?"

To top it off, Nick and I weren't really talking to each other very much. We were in a "fight", though we don't really have knock-down, drag-out fights. We just kind of do the silent treatment. (Nick will probably read this later and say, "We were in a fight?" That's how well we fight.)

When he got home, and I checked the test, I thought for a split second about waiting to tell him the news. Last time, I had such a cute way of telling him. But now, I was just so upset that we were in a fight that I wanted to resolve it as soon as possible.

Nick started to tell me something about the AAA thing, and all I could do was start to cry. Nick, of course, wondered what was wrong, and I apologized for my part of the fight. And then I said, "I think we have a huge problem."

I got up off the couch to go get the pregnancy test, and Nick followed me. I brought it back out to him in the hallway, and he got a huge smile on his face, and said, "Uh-oh! What does that mean?" (in a sly, I-already-know-what-it-means kind of way). I'm really glad he was smiling and happy, because I was bawling by this point.

I probably should've waited to tell him in a more fun way, but I just couldn't think of how I would get excited about it enough to be creative and happy when I told him, so I blurted it out to him over a laundry basket of dirty socks.

That sounds terrible to say. I really hope that Biscuit doesn't hate me later in life for knowing that I wasn't initially excited about his/her presence in my womb.

But above all the emotions; the fear, the worry, the shock--I never once thought that we should get rid of it. I never thought we should abort, or put it up for adoption. This is OUR BABY. And whether or not we were ready for its creation is a moot point (or, a moo point). And deep down, I was happy. Definitely not outrageously happy, but I was at least minutely pleased. In the midst of my tears on Nick's shirt, I was able to smile about the new life we had created.

Now that a few days have passed, it still hits me like a ton of bricks when I remember, again, that I am pregnant. But I also realize a little bit more each day that it really is going to be okay. God would not have given us this life if it was not meant for us. If we would not be able to handle it. It might take me a while to be 100% gung-ho about it, but that's okay.

We're going to have another baby.

And it's going to be great.

A Second Kid? Are you CRAZY??

(this post was written June 7, 2014)

I heard that after you have your first kid, people started asking you when you were going to have another one. I experienced this a little bit, but really only from people I didn't know (or my mother-in-law). See, I think it was that the people close to me knew what a traumatic experience Avonlea's babyhood was, and so they knew better than to ask me.

As time went on, among other people and among other mommies, the baby question would come up, and people would be surprised at my emphatic "NO!" when asked if we were going to have another kid.

I don't think it is a permanent "no". I just say that I need more time to recover from the trauma of the last kid. It's not the birth that traumatized me. It's the having a BABY thing that traumatized me. I love looking at babies. I love it when friends have babies. I really liked being pregnant and growing a baby. I learned that I do NOT like babies.

I also can't imagine having another kid right now, with Avonlea still so young. I imagine a 3-4 year spread between my kids. I like the 3 or 4 year spread, because they'll have one or two years together in middle and high school, but not too close together. They also won't be too far apart and grow up hating each other, like Ashley and I did with our 6.5 year spread.

I am also seeing what it is like to have a toddler and a baby first-hand. Several of my mom friends are on baby #2 with their first being around 16-20 months old. And while it's exciting in theory, I see what a toll it takes. The energy you needed for one baby is now multiplied, but the energy you're given isn't. My friends are doing an amazing job--but I spent one afternoon with one of them, and I came home saying, "We canNOT have another baby anytime soon." Just watching what it was like terrified me.

I don't do well in situations where I am overwhelmed. I tend to lose my balance mentally, and I constantly feel like I am underwater. I just don't do well. I mean, one of my extended family members told me she was going to fly to California to help me after I had Avonlea because I sounded like I was doing so badly. Did I also mention I'm not good at concealing how I really feel?

I guess you have some things figured out with your second kid that make some aspects of it a little easier. You're not dealing with the first-time Mom thing, which is huge. But on the flip-side, you're dealing with the new thing of raising another kid AND a baby.

And to be honest, I'm kind of content with our little 3-person family. I really would be completely happy if we never had another kid of our own. I did the pregnant thing. I did the baby thing. I'm happy to move on with my life. I would love to consider adoption, but that's not something Nick is interested in right now. Maybe I can work on him in that regard, but it's not something we would pursue even in the next 5 years.

All that being said, I took these pictures today:

Oh, shit.