The road to rampant paranoia

As a new parent you quickly become accustomed to rampant paranoia. Or is that just me? I remember the first time I took my girl out of the house. We were out of cat food and she was not quite a week old. I thought every driver on the road was going to t-bone me and that every person in the store that looked at her wanted to steal and/or maim her. I hugged her so close to me I was probably squishing the poor dear but she was a good sport about it. She is usually pretty calm about that sort of thing and gives me the stink eye or just sighs at me. What a good baby. 

Just recently my daughter started in day care (heaven help me). The paranoia of the parent has been taken to entirely new extremes due to this. The day care I have her in is on a military base complete with gates, guards, men with guns, the whole nine yards. I had gone out to pick up a few groceries on her first day and on the way back I got a case of the crazies. What if the base is under lock down and I can't get to her! What if someone went in with a gun and is taking the kids hostage! What if we are under nuclear attack and she gets stuck there! 

I kid you not, those were the thoughts that went through my head and I am a really, really chill person. It was utterly ridiculous. 

Of course I walked in to pick her up and she was just fine. She had dozed off while playing with some toy and had pulled her shirt up over her head like the cute little turd she is. 

The moral of my story? Just calm down. Take a deep breath. It's all going to be alright. By letting things get out of hand like that you are just going to stress yourself out, which your kiddo can tell, and you are both going to have a bad time. Keeping it together while someone else is watching your progeny is a feat of astronomical proportions. There is no harm in being concerned about your child and making sure they are in a productive and safe environment, but getting to the point of worrying about nuclear attacks keeping you from them is so far overboard that you are on another continent. Bitch, be cool!

From east to west

I've been told that I am a paranoid protective mother. When I'm feeling cranky, I'm very defensive about it. In my mind a paranoid and overly protective mother ends up with a kid who is a crack whore stripper working to get bail money for her trash of a significant other. Give me a moment to take you on my crazy train of logic for that one. 
A) Overly protective parent does not allow child to take part in potentially "iffy" acts such as sleep overs or talking to those said child may some day find attractive
B) Child, once old enough to strike out on their own, has not had the experiences up until that point to be able to understand the world as it is. It is not a pretty place and there are a lot of things to temp a person
C) Child ends up trying all of the things they were never allowed to do which can lead them down the stripper/crack whore path
It may sound nuts, but when I'm ticked there is some grain of logic in that pile of crazy. 

So, I decided to set aside my overly protective side and my husband and I took our daughter and hopped on a flight to Vegas (which included a layover, ugh). His family is from the area and it was selfish and a bit childish of me to withhold her from his family. Of course, this decision culminated in me panicking about taking a five month old baby on a plane. She is going to cry the whole way! Security won't let me bring through the things I need for her on the plane! The time difference is going to completely screw up her sleep schedule! The list of reasons continued on in a long list of bitching and moaning. I had a serious Moaning Myrtle going on. 

The day came and, paranoia and all, we got to the air port. I was completely beside myself which is very odd because I am in fact a pretty laid back person...unless it is about my daughter then I become a bucket full of lunacy. My husband and I had also never flown together so I had no idea how he would handle it either which just added another grain of salt to my bucket. As we approached the security gates I was literally sweating with nerves. I felt like a terrorist trying to get a bomb onto a plane instead of a mother trying to get baby formula through. Ridiculous does not begin to describe it. 

You know what happened at security? Absolutely nothing. That's right. We got to the screening area, informed the guard we had medically necessary items, they hand checked those items and then screened us as normal. Nothing weird, nothing crazy, no hassle. I wasn't pulled into the scary side room and questioned about my open container of baby formula or laughed at for the ridiculous amount of diaper I insisted on bringing on the flight. No. It was incredibly simple. The TSA agents were very respectful, kind, and efficient. 

Even on the flight, where I was sure my daughter would scream like a banshee, she played with her daddy and I and then fell asleep. No fuss, no issues during takeoff, just a smooth ride. I concluded that I have the best baby on the planet. There were no problems at all, on any front. 

In a nut shell, I've learned to calm down even if I think a potentially stressful situation is eminent. I have to keep to together, but still be prepared and have a plan. You can be calm as long as you are prepared. 

List of things I recommend if flying with a baby:
1) Have a bottle prepared to feed your baby during take off. They don't know how to pop their ears so the change in air pressure can hurt them and the feeding process can greatly help that. Some people said that just a pacifier would work but I wasn't willing to risk it.
2) A change of clothes. During takeoff my daughter had a massive bowel movement that ended up all over her clothes. I was thrilled that I had brought two changes of clothes for her in my carry on.
3) Plenty of diapers. Our flight got delayed on the runway and I cannot stress enough how happy I was to have an entire pack of diapers and wipes at my disposal. 
4) A warm blanket. We all know how chilly the plane can get and as adults, we can deal with it, but a baby just knows that they are uncomfortable and unhappy. We had a lightweight jacket as well as two warmer blankets for her, just in case.      
5) Distractions. Our daughter is not used to just sitting on our laps for hours at a time. We go out, do chores etc and she comes from room to room and place to place with me. To keep her distracted we brought 5 or 6 of her favorite smaller toys with us so that if she started to get bored with one, we had a back up to keep her happy. Luckily she went to sleep before we ran out of toys.   

Of course every baby is different and may like different things but from our experience flying coast to coast, those items were my ticket to sanity. 

A web site from TSA explaining their policies for plane travel with medically required liquids - http://www.tsa.gov/traveler-information/traveling-children

I also called them several times to ask questions and their phone support system was wonderful. 1-866-289-9673

...and then my heart broke

My daughter and I don't have much of a nighttime routine, but it works for us. We change her diaper, give her a nice meal, and then I sing Amazing Grace and put her to bed. I'm sure this routine will evolve as she changes but for now it's good. It's right for us. We aren't a family that makes a lot of fuss. Before our bedtime routine started this evening I was snuggling my girl and reading a couple chapters of a book. I had read it once but it was in the first two months or so after she was born and, to say the least, I didn't retain much of it. 

So I am sitting on the bed, little one is sitting on my leg leaning against me, when I stop and just look at her face. Her eyes were starting to droop and her little head was leaning heavily against my breast. I couldn't help but think what a beautiful girl she was. Her deep brown eyes so calm and relaxed and her face so serene. I just sat and stared at her for several minutes, at times stroking her cheek or kissing the top of her beautiful head. The love I felt in those few moments was so wonderful I wished it would never end. 

Then a thought came to me, unbidden. At first it just flirted around the back of my mind but when it came to the forefront I was completely overwhelmed. I realized that this moment, this beautiful moment, would in fact end. Obviously my subconscious knew it would because nothing lasts forever, but the thought had never truly invaded my conscious mind. This moment, this beautiful moment and all others like it, would end. My wonderful daughter would grow and change, as she should, and these times would only be memories. 

She was so innocent with her head resting against me and her hands quietly intertwined in her lap. So innocent. In her world everyone held her and played with her. They smiled when she smiled and helped to calm her when she cried. The hands that held her were gentle and the words spoken in her ear were soft. My daughter wanted for nothing and she gave so much happiness in return. But now the thought had entered my head that one day all of this would end. She would grow older and come to realize that the world is not a place of soft hands and gentle whispers. In that one moment, my heart completely broke. The innocent child in my arms would one day know the horrors of this world. She would no longer be comforted by her mother's arms or the flowing notes of Amazing Grace.

I sit here now a changed woman, with my daughter dozing just a few feet from me. Her face is so beautiful in the lamplight. I must cherish these moments I have with her because one day all too soon they will be gone. I will never be the same again.

Oh where oh where has my sanity gone...

Sanity as defined by dictionary.com is the state of being sane or soundness of mind. I ask you, who with a three month old has any mind left, much less a sane one. I'm hoping I will find it again one day but I highly doubt that will be the case. We are currently in the middle of our daily afternoon screaming session. This will often end with her vomiting followed by hiccups...which of course makes her scream again. The process also often ends in a few tears on momma's part as well. But we get through it. 

I truly thought that I would thoroughly dislike being a mother. In my mind, before she was born, I saw it as a job without pay. One that is all consuming and without a break. It's not a job you can quit or take a vacation from. It is 24 hours a day 7 days a week for the rest of your life. That is perhaps a bit callous but none the less the truth. What I have discovered the last few weeks is how much fun it can be. When my daughter smiled at me for the first time my heart melted. Since then it has been a round of smiles, laughter, tears, and her tiny little baby snores. Nothing makes me happier then when she looks at me and her whole face breaks into a smile. Not just her mouth but the edges of her eyes turn up and she throws her arms in the air. There is nothing quite like pure joy on the face of one so innocent.

I would certainly never say that there aren't hard days mixed in with the fantastic. My daughter and I (and my entourage of pets) came to visit my parents near DC while my husband is deployed. Within a day or two of getting here, my little one started screaming and crying in obvious pain. I could not figure out what was wrong or what to do for her. She had not acted like this before, she was normally such a happy baby. Her typically small cries for attention were now piercing and shrill and little tears streaked down her cheeks. What was wrong with my baby? How could I help her? Luckily my mother and sister were on hand and after trying a few things, we discovered the little one had terrible gas. We all know how much gas built up in your system can hurt. After a slippery trip down to the drug store (we had recently had a fairly heavy snow) we were able to relieve her pain and she slipped into a nice nap. It just shows now matter how wonderful your child (and I know my girl is very well behaved and happy) there are still going to be some of "those" days. 

I am just grateful that my child is such a happy, loving, and bright baby. Be thankful for what you have even if you never knew that you wanted it in the first place.

Finding Joy

Children were never part of my master plan. When I would think of my future it simply did not involve children. No, I didn't hate kids but I certainly did not enjoy their company. My niece, who is three, has terrified me since she was born. I suppose that makes motherhood a little more difficult for me to take joy in. Many women long to start a family and find such happiness in the thought of it. That is something I simply have never understood. But, to make it through many days, I had to figure it out. I had to find the joy.

At this moment I am looking down at my daughter as she grunts and wiggles in her sleep. I can't help but think that she is the most beautiful baby in the world. I'm grateful and proud of the days when those emotions overtake me. However, it does make me all the more frustrated with the days when it doesn't. Those days are fewer and farther between but it has taken several weeks to get to that point. 

I've found that the trick is to not be ashamed of it. To not be ashamed of being beyond irritation and completely at wits end with a tiny baby that certainly didn't choose to join this world. It's not her fault as she screams out at the world. She did not decide to come into this world completely helpless and in need of someone to care for her. I brought that on her. I had to learn to set aside the frustration I was feeling more and more frequently and just love her. Love her without remorse or guilt. To look into her eyes as she cries out to me in need and only feel love. People told me this would just happen. They were wrong as nothing "just happens". It takes a conscious and ongoing effort. It takes a strong will. 

Finding the joy in parenthood can be a taxing and sometimes overwhelming ongoing challenge. I know there will be days ahead when I just want to curl into a ball and block out the world but I will conquer those days.

Hello, my name is Mother

The frustration that has bothered me most the last couple of weeks is losing my sense of self. The last few days it has absolutely consumed me.

While pregnant you read all of the articles and other literature on how to be a successful parent. Then, when you sit there holding that squirming and adorable little baby in your arms, you come to realize how absolutely useless it all was. 

For instance, the ridiculous notion of "sleep when the baby sleeps." To put my thoughts as kindly as possible, what the fuck? If you sleep when the baby sleeps then you will never get a chance to shower, eat, clean up, go buy diapers/ other infant flotsam, and that laundry pile will soon engulf all available space in your home. Whoever first uttered that phrase needs to be strung up and dropped down (if you take my meaning).

My life has become so consumed in taking care of this child that I have completely lost my sense of self, the meaning and enjoyment I had in my life before has been buried in a damp grave never to see the light of day again. I look at my bookshelves in longing as I am once again nursing the baby with one hand while trying desperately to eat a few bites of my dinner with the other. I glance at the drawer of dust rags and yearn to clean my home as I'm rocking back and forth while singing random show tunes trying to make the crying stop. My running shoes sit in the corner collecting dust, the piano rests under the window tuneless, and the book I've been struggling to write has lost all of it's pzazz. 

Every moment, awake or asleep, is now completely engulfed in taking care of this child. I no longer have a sense of self. I'm simply Mother. I'm the diaper changer, baby feeder, and singer of random show tunes (as I do not remember the children's songs of my youth). I lack all personality, all qualities that make one unique. I take no joy from daily activities and do not rest at night. I am no one. I am simply Mother.

And Then There Were Three

When I initially started this blog I wasn't sure what it was going to be about. It has sat here several months now with "no posts" staring me in the face. I had no idea what I was going to do with it. 
Then, one chilly October evening while I was sitting awake for the seventh night in a row trying to calm my newborn screaming baby, it came to me. This blog was going to be a way for me to keep my sanity. 
You see so many "new mom" and "mommy" blogs out there talking about how wonderful and rewarding motherhood is. Very rarely do you see one and go, "Yup. She is being completely truthful." They seem to only focus on how great breastfeeding is, the repetitive struggles with their mother in law over what is best for the baby, or how great their kiddo was while they baked apple pies to feed homeless people on Thanksgiving. You get the drift. They all make me have a bitch please moment.
So for my own sanity, and the health and well-being of my child and husband, I'm going to tell it like it is. I will spare you not of my thoughts during the 3am diaper changes involving projectile poop, my personal frustrations during breastfeeding, or my insensitivity by not making baked goods to feed the homeless on family holidays. While this is my outlet to retain some of my sanity, perhaps it will help some other new mom who also has read those uppity blogs and wants to smack those happy-go-lucky pie bakers in the face. With a brick. 
Okay, maybe not a brick, but the irritation at those women runs deep.

That is my adorable baby girl. Only a week old in that picture. Before I get any further I want to make it perfectly, and absolutely, clear that I love my girl more than anything else on the planet. I would kill, or at least seriously maim, anyone that tried to hurt her. No questions asked.
But, no matter how deep my well of love may be, it does not eliminate the frustrations that I've discovered come along with raising a child. 
I'll spare the details of her birth because, really, if you've gone through it you know of the pain of which I speak and would rather not relive it. Ever.

Where I would really like to start this discussion is about the fear of going to the bathroom. No, not about the adorable little poop machine you have just brought into the world, but about the absolute fear of using the restroom. If after birth you had to have stitches you know the fear of which I speak. It doesn't even occur to you the first time you drag your tired, sweaty, battered body to the bathroom. But as soon as that first dribble makes contact with the suture area you know a fiery pain that you have never experienced before. The nurses don't warn you of this, they just leave a little water squirt bottle on the handrail by the toilet and assume you'll figure it out. Ladies, that squirt bottle is now your life line. If you leave the house, make sure it is in the diaper bag. Before you go to the restroom, make sure it is filled with mildly warm water. Never, never, find yourself in need of a pee without this bottle. The fun part? You will continue to need to give your undercarriage a shower at tinkle time, every time, over the next several weeks. It burns like the Phlegethon going into Tartarus. I don't think I will ever look at the bathroom without a quick spurt of fear ever again in my life. 
What gets me is you hear about it being horrible to have a bowel movement of the firmer kind after birth. Honestly? It wasn't that bad. Why don't they warn you about what really hurts? The Terror of Tinkle Time. It could be a really bad B-rated horror film. Or one of those creepy children's cartoons about teaching kids to use the bathroom, but, that is a rant for another day. 

 In conclusion, fear the bathroom. Fear it.