Wordless Wednesday: The Great Bumbo Escape

Click here for more WW participants.

Monday vignettes (in lieu of a real post)

I’ll never know the answer to the question of whether or not I’d savor Baby O as much if we hadn’t struggled to bring him home with us. Because that’s not my reality.

But I won’t deny that our struggle with IF made me a different person. More empathetic, more willing to cede control to the universe, more appreciative of the little things in my life.

Would I have learned these things from motherhood? Potentially.

It’s just interesting to think about.

And I have a confession, too.

The idea that infertility has made me a better mother ultimately is helping me heal from the years of hurting.

_________________

After the weekend where Baby O rolled over three times, he hasn’t even attempted doing so again. So he and I have been doing a lot more floor time then I have in the past. And on Thursday morning, he rolled over from his belly to his back. Multiple times, actually – I missed the first two because I was looking for a new onesie since he had a little butterscotch poo stain on the back of the one he was wearing.

But that evening? When we went to show J, Baby O instead stayed on his belly and complained and fussed. No rolling.

Yet on Saturday he rolled, again, multiple times. Without prompting – as soon as I placed him on his belly, he rolled right over.

As it turns out? Baby O is not so much on the rolling thing when he’s tired. Instead, he’ll complain and fuss and cry until we pick him up.

The boy has learned parental manipulation already.

________________

Another thing to add to the “my son is driving me NUTS right now” list: nursing.

Lately whenever he nurses from my left side (yes, only from my left side. I don’t know why he doesn’t with the right), Baby O sticks his HAND IN HIS MOUTH.

While nursing. Which, of course, doesn’t go very well. Latch is broken. Sharp fingernails HURT my poor nip.ple. Et cetera.

I’ve taken to holding the offending hand while I feed him so that it can’t do anything. But that doesn’t go over very well with Baby O – he shakes my hand off so that he can put it into his mouth.

I really just hope this is a phase which will GO.AWAY.SOON.

______________

And also. I confess that I’ve IGNORED those warnings on the back and side and package of the Bumbo. You know, the ones that say “DO NOT put your baby in this when it’s on the table or any other raised surface, you ridiculous excuse for a mother.”

Until this weekend.

Baby O has decided that he really, really, wants to find some form of locomotion. He’s not content to sit in his Bumbo for very long before he leans forward and to the right, as if he’s trying to escape. So, well, we’ve started to put the Bumbo on the floor instead of the table.

I’m not sure what he thinks he’s going to DO once he breaks free from the seat. Maybe run away and join the circus?

_______________

Not sure if I’ve mentioned it here, but Baby O has found his voice. And he likes to use it early in the morning, after our 5am nursing session, when I am too tired to rock him back to sleep.

It’s cute really – we hear “oooooooh” and “ehhhhhhh” from the monitor for a good 15 minutes. It’s soothing, and puts me pretty much right back to sleep.

Last night, as J and I were getting ready for bed, we heard Baby O talking. Shit. He was awake? At 11pm?

So J went in to put a hand on him, maybe give him his bink back.

However.

Baby O was fast asleep. His eyes were closed. He wasn’t moving.

But he was talking.

In his sleep.

Writing down the REAL stuff.

So I was reading back over some of my recent posts… and I realized something today.

It’s so much easier for me to blog about the “bad mother” feelings then it is to talk about how much I love Baby O… and how happy I am these days.

Of course I’ll be honest here – it’s my blog, after all. I have days where I am incredibly tired. And frustrated. Which, you know, JUST SO HAPPENS to coincide with the times that Baby O fights taking a nap and cries and cries instead.

But overall?

I’m happy.

During all the years of infertility, it was a struggle for me to manage my fear and despair. I worked very hard at staying in the moment, worked really hard on focusing on the good in my life. But it was a slippery slope for me; if I allowed myself to drift off, I’d end up in a very dark and bad place. Worrying about the future, wondering if something I did in the past was the reason for our infertility in the first place.

Staying in the moment was incredibly hard for me.

But. This summer has been salve for those wounds. I have found myself living each day slowly, savoring it as I would a fine wine or good cheese. Baby O and I have a very relaxed sort of rythm to our days. Even on those days where he’s fussy and cranky, we’ll go out for a walk or spend a half hour on my bed together. And usually the one on one time will allow him to come out of his funk. If not, a good night of sleep usually helps us both.

And, you know. Since September IS coming, I’ve tried to look ahead just a little bit. I’ve contacted a recruiter and had a couple of interviews. I have two more next week. I bought a new suit and pair of shoes. I’ve brought my work clothes back down from the attic, and I’ve tried a few on to see if they’ll fit, or if I need to do some shopping before I start a new job.

But the bulk of my energy these days is wrapped in the here and now. In Baby O’s smile. In the smell of him. In the downy hair on his head. In the feel of his cheek under my lips when I kiss him. In the milestones he seems to be reaching daily.

He is the joy of my life.

And though it seems like too neat an ending to say “it was all worth it,” every day I’m with him, I marvel at the fact that if it weren’t for infertility, we wouldn’t have him.

Would I savor him as much as I do if our path to him was easy?

Wordless Wednesday: Dad. Could you PUH-LEEZ get Mom to stop taking pictures right now?

Days (*updated)

Days like this are so frustrating.

Where Baby O gets overtired, but fights me when I try and get him to sleep.

Where he cries and cries and cries because he’s miserable and tired.

Where nothing I do makes it any better.

It makes me question my decision to stay home with him until mid-September.

It makes me question everything I feel like I’ve accomplished in the past four and a half months.

It makes me question our decision to do this parenting thing in the first place.

And listening to my son screaming upstairs right now makes me feel like the worst mother in the world.

__________________

He’s finally asleep, after 10 full minutes of screaming, 10 minutes of me trying to calm him, and then another 10 minutes of sleeping in my arms.

I just don’t get why it has to be such a STRUGGLE – for the both of us – for him to nap.

And it’s days like today where I really question my sanity.

*sigh*

But hey. He’s asleep, at least.

For now, anyway.

We’ll start this whole process over again in about 3 hours.

Good times. Good times.

Resolution.

Thank you SO much for your support in letting me know that I’m not alone. It makes me feel so much better. Ultimately, the issue which inspired my last post was really more a communication issue than it was anything else. Which J and I resolved over the weekend, thankfully.

And even better? Friday night J and I attended a wedding of one of our good college friends – without Baby O. Not only did I fit into a pre-pregnancy dress*, a number of people seemed incredulous that I had a baby 4 months ago. And J told me a number of times that night how great I looked.

And since my interview suit is a size too small, I went out yesterday and bought a new one. In only ONE size larger than my 10 year old suit.

And well, since I needed them – I also got a new pair of shoes.

Ridiculous that a couple of compliments and a new outfit made me feel as good as I do today. But it did.

Still, though. Over the weekend J and I resolved to focus a bit more on our relationship, instead of myopically focusing on only Baby O.

And for my part, I am trying to make peace with this new body of mine. Thought I am down to my BFP weight, I feel much bigger. Which, you know, I am. My body’s changed. My boobs are bigger from nursing. My hips are wider. In addition to the extra fat I’m carrying on my belly, my skin is a bit saggy too.

There are some things I can do to help make myself feel better about my body. I did join a gym back in May, and haven’t really managed to get there nearly as much as I had liked. What seems to work is for me to go after dinner, when Baby O is in bed, during the week. So I’ve resolved to try and do that twice a week.

I can also eat better during the day; cut down on my snacks and eat more vegetables and fruit.

So that’s where I am today. Obviously it’s going to take some work to bring myself and J higher up on the priority list. But it’s something for which I’m willing to work.

*”Fit” is a loose term here. The dress DID fit, but it was tight around the chest and clung a bit to my flab. Still, though, I was able to wear it, which was something I didn’t expect. A nice surprise, really.

“When you become a parent, selfishness really takes a hit.”

I’m not sure how it came up at work, but J’s boss told that to him once. J thought it was funny, and apt, and it quickly became his new favorite expression to quote.

Especially now that we have a baby.

When Baby O was newborn, it seemed that EVERYTHING was selfish. Putting him down so I could pee/shower/eat/run screaming into the night /calm down/nap was selfish. Whenever he was awake, I felt like I HAD to focus on being the nurturer.

Thankfully I figured it out, and for the most part, I’ve grown comfortable with my role as mother. And I don’t feel like eating lunch is selfish anymore. (Most of the time, anyway.)

But. Parenthood requires a complete shift of a mindset – from just living one day at a time to actually taking care of someone ALL OF THE TIME. 24-7, we are responsible for giving Baby O everything he needs to not only survive, but turn into a person with the kind of values in which we believe.

It’s a huge responsibility, which, frankly, scares the hell out of me when I look at it this way. So I don’t often think of it like this. Instead I just take it a day at a time and do my best to let Baby O know I love him and want the best for him.

But this means that Baby O’s needs and wants have shifted to number one on the priority list. Which means that the needs and wants of J… and of myself… have fallen. Pretty far down, in fact. My list looks something like this right now:

1. Baby O

2. Sleep

3. Food

4. Chores

5. Visiting with family

6. J

And it’s really affecting our relationship.

One one hand, having Baby O in our lives has enriched our marriage beyond our ability to even understand. We’re now a family; something we wanted for a long, long time. And J can’t even begin to express how much he loves his son. He goes into Baby O’s room at night and says “he’s just so cute.” Watching them together makes me fall in love with my husband all over again.

But other areas have taken a hit. Any romance in our relationship that wasn’t killed by infertility? Kaput. Gone. Finito. Se.x? Forget about it. Not only am I not interested, but I’d like to sleep now, thankyouverymuch.

A lot of my disinclination for s.ex has to do with the BFing hormones, I know. And a good portion of it is that I’m just not comfortable in my new postpartum body. Though I’m now down to my BFP weight, my body is changed. I don’t fit in a lot of my old clothes anymore. And to boot, I have stretch marks. A monstrous purple c-section scar. Wider hips. Bigger boobs. 

And then throw into the mix that my body is no longer my own. It exists to feed Baby O.

So I feel about as unsexy as I ever have in my entire life. And so I am not interested in much of anything which requires that I use my body for someone other than Baby O.

Because, well. Baby O gets my body for his food. Then J gets it for s.ex.

Well, what about me? When do I get my body for ME?

Ridiculous. I know.

But it’s where I am right now. Working to assimilate this new responsibility - motherhood - into my identity. Knowing that I cannot sacrifice the intimacy and connectedness of our marriage in order to be a good mother. Because having a strong relationship is JUST as important to me, to us, as it is to teach Baby O how to be a good person.

It’s just damn hard right now, that’s all.