Colicky baby+prescribed Poly Vi Sol with iron= 2 days of pure nonstop crying.
Will not do that again.
Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Is parenthood everything you thought it would be?....ie wonderful?
My last tirade other than my bragging about size painted a very one sided picture of the day that my son was born. I did not mention tears of joy, blissful family moments, and the sound of one's heart growing bigger for that new life. Why? Because in my story, that did not happen. Honestly, that disproportionate cloud nine feeling should stay on the TV and movie scene because I doubt that is how people REALLY feel.
I was happy to hear him cry, know that he was healthy, and that everything was in the right place. But then those moments of realization kick in..... relief, exhaustion, FEAR. Yes, what am I going to do with this little person?! The sense of responsibility and sheer terror of inexperience take over as you realize, I have never done this, but we have to so here goes... Needless to say the time in the hospital was all surreal, with people constantly in and out, shots and blood drawn from both of us at all hours, and the first days of sleep deprivation make you somewhat of a zombie. Our poor child lay in dirty diapers for a time as we were timid to change them as he would offer up to us a hearty cry and was quite inconsolable after the torture that is wiping is bottom. Which then you feel like a failure in that your child is hanging out in soiled pants because you are too afraid that he will cry when you change him. (Happily, I will say that this phase passed)
In the lateness of the night at the hospital, Jules and I did take time to sit in awe of the power of the circle of life. We like to see the different parts of him that are us and imagine how he will behave when he is older. Counting his sweet fingers and toes, admiring his precious hair, and then inevitably he begins to cry again and I once again have that pit in my stomach of fear of how can I meet his needs? What is wrong?
Crying does a number on a mommy. Really, when he is crying that is the only thing that I hear. You could be calling me to tell me I am the latest winner in the lotto, wouldn't hear it. The cry sets off a stress trigger in me that makes your body react physically (more on that in a later blog) and emotionally. I feel like one of those cats whose back is hunched up and fur standing on end, the sound absolutely stresses me out as I want to hurry up and console him. Which half the issue is that I don't always know what how to do that. Running through the usual suspects; eat, diaper, sleepy, can shed some light on the situation, but oftentimes you have no freaking idea what to do. This is where I turn into Betty White (see Snickers ad..) and promptly bark out orders on what we should try, snatch the baby up in hopes that I can console him, then frustrated with it all hand him back to Jules so he can 'try'. By then I have worked myself up into a nice headache that when he finally falls asleep or calms down, I am so wound up that there is no nap in sight.
Speaking of naps, many people will say 'sleep when the baby sleeps' which is a load of baloney if you are a type A personality such as myself. It is very difficult to go from a person who is able to multitask and finish many projects and chores in a short day, to someone who barely has time to shower. It took me 3 days to change the polish on my toenails. Really?! Somedays I am not even dressed until 1 in the afternoon. Lazy you ask? No, the baby sleeps his best in the morning so I do take advantage and catch up myself. Not without that little A sitting on my shoulder saying that there are many things I should be doing. Right now for instance, there is a dresser in about 50 pieces all over Noah's room, a pile of dishes in the sink, a dog that desperately needs a walk, and clothes just hanging in the washer...all while he is sleeping. Am I sleeping? Heck no. Don't even get me started about cabin fever. I feel like I am a slave to the white chair in my bedroom.
In sum, parenthood is not what I thought it would be as I was deluded by Hollywood for sunshiny days, little crying and a maternal instinct that would naturally lead me to the right answer. This is not to say that I am not happy that my son is here, I truly am.
I was happy to hear him cry, know that he was healthy, and that everything was in the right place. But then those moments of realization kick in..... relief, exhaustion, FEAR. Yes, what am I going to do with this little person?! The sense of responsibility and sheer terror of inexperience take over as you realize, I have never done this, but we have to so here goes... Needless to say the time in the hospital was all surreal, with people constantly in and out, shots and blood drawn from both of us at all hours, and the first days of sleep deprivation make you somewhat of a zombie. Our poor child lay in dirty diapers for a time as we were timid to change them as he would offer up to us a hearty cry and was quite inconsolable after the torture that is wiping is bottom. Which then you feel like a failure in that your child is hanging out in soiled pants because you are too afraid that he will cry when you change him. (Happily, I will say that this phase passed)
In the lateness of the night at the hospital, Jules and I did take time to sit in awe of the power of the circle of life. We like to see the different parts of him that are us and imagine how he will behave when he is older. Counting his sweet fingers and toes, admiring his precious hair, and then inevitably he begins to cry again and I once again have that pit in my stomach of fear of how can I meet his needs? What is wrong?
Crying does a number on a mommy. Really, when he is crying that is the only thing that I hear. You could be calling me to tell me I am the latest winner in the lotto, wouldn't hear it. The cry sets off a stress trigger in me that makes your body react physically (more on that in a later blog) and emotionally. I feel like one of those cats whose back is hunched up and fur standing on end, the sound absolutely stresses me out as I want to hurry up and console him. Which half the issue is that I don't always know what how to do that. Running through the usual suspects; eat, diaper, sleepy, can shed some light on the situation, but oftentimes you have no freaking idea what to do. This is where I turn into Betty White (see Snickers ad..) and promptly bark out orders on what we should try, snatch the baby up in hopes that I can console him, then frustrated with it all hand him back to Jules so he can 'try'. By then I have worked myself up into a nice headache that when he finally falls asleep or calms down, I am so wound up that there is no nap in sight.
Speaking of naps, many people will say 'sleep when the baby sleeps' which is a load of baloney if you are a type A personality such as myself. It is very difficult to go from a person who is able to multitask and finish many projects and chores in a short day, to someone who barely has time to shower. It took me 3 days to change the polish on my toenails. Really?! Somedays I am not even dressed until 1 in the afternoon. Lazy you ask? No, the baby sleeps his best in the morning so I do take advantage and catch up myself. Not without that little A sitting on my shoulder saying that there are many things I should be doing. Right now for instance, there is a dresser in about 50 pieces all over Noah's room, a pile of dishes in the sink, a dog that desperately needs a walk, and clothes just hanging in the washer...all while he is sleeping. Am I sleeping? Heck no. Don't even get me started about cabin fever. I feel like I am a slave to the white chair in my bedroom.
In sum, parenthood is not what I thought it would be as I was deluded by Hollywood for sunshiny days, little crying and a maternal instinct that would naturally lead me to the right answer. This is not to say that I am not happy that my son is here, I truly am.