Mother's Day

It's been a few days since the Hallmark Holiday of Mother's Day, and the sting of it is passing.

Before I had my daughter, for the last several years Mother's Day had lost a lot of its meaning and significance to me.

I view Mother's Day as an opportunity to consider the woman in your life who is your mother and perhaps give her an official thank you (since I assume, you'd be thanking this woman many times over the year).  A mother who not only may have made sacrifices for you as a caregiver, but is also your friend, your role model, your support, your rock.  Maybe that's an unfair view of what mothers to me are- but that's what I want to be for my daughter.  I want her to be able to see my flaws, but appreciate my dedication to her becoming the best person I will ever know.

I know that having this view of what a mother is, that I may be putting pressure on myself- and maybe I'm setting myself a standard that's unreal.  But I just want my daughter to always like who I am- because she knows what I do is sound and from the heart- and above all emotionally HEALTHY.

My mother and I have had a very difficult relationship.  Well, it wasn't always that way, but once I started living life for me is when our relationship took on a lot of stress and difficulty.

You see, the living life for me part meant I would live my life the way I wanted to, the way I thought I should.  Which means making mistakes, loving and losing, and also not accepting others mistakes just because you are my parent, or elder, or whatever.  Because if the shit you do, affects me negatively, I can't have it.

My mother is an alcoholic.  She has been actively sick for at least the last 20 years.  And I'm sure it's longer than that, but before that point her alcoholism allowed her to act like an OK person.  She is also severely depressed which is only compounded by her drinking.

I don't know if it's my mother's alcoholism, or her personality or perhaps both- but as a result she has made some life decisions that included me that were not the best choices.  And are now, her decisions are coming back to haunt my little family.  Worst thing is, it's not the first time my mother's choices are directly impacting my life.

It's just that now, everything is different.  I have my own little family and I don't have the time, nerve, patience or whatever- to give into guilt.  I don't know why, but I have guilt towards my mom.  I don't know if it's directly related to her alcoholism  the way she raised me, because I have a younger brother who I took as my charge..... And the list goes on of these guilts.

Needless to say, I don't want these feelings or emotions to ever be felt by my daughter.  It's frustrating and feels unfair.  I want her to respect me, my decisions, my experiences and ultimately, my advice to her.  I hope that I can give her the best example of a strong woman who loves and lives.

Daughters Without Borders

I just read this post: Suburban Snapshots: Daughters Without Borders and it hit right on one of my most anxious challenges of raising a daughter.  This author might be suburban, but her anxieties and concerns are exactly my own raising a child in NYC.  True, my daughter is only a year old, but our children are forced to grow up and become "adults" sooner and sooner.  As a result, they encounter these situations that even adults are hard put to comprehend.

So, how do I keep my daughter's innocence but make her savvy to the ways of this big, bad world?

The love FOR my child

Honestly, I can't begin to explain the love I have for my daughter. I mean, it can be overwhelming.

There isn't anything specific she ever does that makes me love her more, but when she cuddles up to me before she goes to sleep- I melt. Seriously, my heart becomes a puddle of goo.

I can forgive her the times she gets cranky or she doesn't want to eat her meals.... When she looks at me with those all knowing eyes, deep in thought- I can't help think this kid knows more than me and for that I can't love her more. She's amazing. And my love FOR her just seeps out. Now I get all those parents who can't stop taking about their kid like they're the Golden Child.

I mean how could you not gush with love for this girl?

Fun and different kid gifts

This year, there's been a rash of baby showers and first birthdays.  Mazeltov!

But what the heck do you get the wee ones?  They certainly don't need toys or clothes (everyone else will get them clothes!).

You want to get them something fun!  Something the parents will appreciate!  Something reasonably priced!

Tamara Pang of Brookidlyn creates some of the most fun and unique items for baby and kids.  I LOVE her stuff!  And I warn all my friends who either just had babies or are expecting- you'll be getting something from me and the hubby that we bought from her.

Check out her Etsy store- BROOKIDLYN.

And here's the Bean staying nice and cozy in one of Tamara's creations!

SAHM vs. SAHD vs. SAHP

So, I'm a full time working mom.  I get up in the morning, shower and am lucky enough to have about an hour with the Bean before I have to go and put in a 8-9 hour work day.  Most evenings, I just make it in time to read her a book, give her some milk (breastmilk!) and put her down.

During the day, I talk to my husband on average of 3 times- because the poor guy craves adult conversation.  And I feel for him, I really do.

But he's not so pleasant everyday.  He has a tendency to 'blame' me for having a 'good time' at work and talking to adults.  As though, going back to work was really my first choice.

I wanted to stay at home and raise my daughter.  But that wasn't to be.  My husband lost his ok paying job in April 2011.  I got pregnant in July 2011.  He looked for work with the hopes and intentions of being able to find something that would be able to take care of the bills once I went out on maternity.

That didn't happen.  And as much as I wanted to be the stay at home mom, I was the parent who had a decent paying job.  Then I found a better job- better paying, better place, better overall.  

And not the Bean is growing and showing her character.  Being super stubborn about taking naps, or waking up on the wrong side of the bed, or having a lovely day.  Being the stay-at-home-parent means you have to deal with those ups and downs directly.  And I don't get to do that.

But it is certainly not my 'fault' that I have the opportunity to go out on a daily basis and converse with adults.  It's also not my husband's fault that I have to deal with crazy, demanding and sometimes obnoxious human beings just because they are paying me to throw them a party they think they can treat me like shit.

So, I'm at a loss as to what to say to my husband.  Short of yelling, 'then you go find a fucking job and let me stay home', what else do I say?

When he calls me for my opinion on a situation because he's feeling stressed and needs reassurance, then my opinion should be heard.  He's the stay-at-home-parent and he usually has a better idea of how to handle certain situations.  So, don't get upset with me if I recommend something you don't think will work.  

Actually, don't fucking ask me.  Because, to me, it seems as though he's just poking and looking for a spot to make himself feel better by making me feel shitty.

Homey don't play that.

This post wasn't meant to put down my husband- really it's just a rant.  But it's also a glimpse into a reality that more and more families are experiencing.  More and more dads are becoming the stay-at-home-parent and those same men are having to learn how 'masculinize' a role that has been socially a women's position in the household.  These men are learning to cope with the fact that they aren't necessarily the breadwinners and having to depend on their partners.

I try, I really do, to stay patient and to continue to be understanding.  But it wears on me.

Oh well.  I 'll keep moving on and reiterate to my husband that this is the right thing to do.  And hopefully not lose my mind in the process.

Did I mention that I am a breastfeeding mom?

I decided right from the beginning of my pregnancy that I would exclusively breastfeed my child.  It's a natural, normal, cost effective and healthy (for baby and mom!) way to sustain and grow your baby.  I mean, if it's a natural thing to do, it's easy, right?

WRONG.  It ain't easy, it's not always pretty, and it can be quite painful.  Seriously.

My Bean was born at 35 and a half weeks- a month earlier than her due date and about 10 days before full term.  Technically, she is a preemie.  She weighed in at 5 pounds .2 ounces- just enough NOT to go to the NICU automatically.  I felt blessed.  

As soon as she came out and was cleared, I had her placed on my chest, skin to skin.  I read through all my various books, blogs, journals that she would inch her way to my breast and latch on to begin suckling and take in the colostrum- aka liquid gold.  An hour after being born, she was blissfully comfortable not moving, keeping herself warm on me and certainly not breastfeeding.  I tried to stay cool and not get frantic.  My baby would eventually take to the boob- I was sure of it.

Long story short- it didn't quite go that way.  My Bean sorta, kinda took the colostrum in the first few days of life, made her poopy diapers as was normal, but by her third day when we were checking out of the hospital, the doc said that she was looking a little yellow and that we had to keep an eye on her billirubin levels.  In other words, Bean had a case of jaundice.  

The next day we ended up back in the hospital so that she could get light therapy.  

I can't begin to tell you the emotions I was going through.  Not only did I have my baby early, now my little girl was sick.  I didn't care that jaundice is a totally normal thing and a good percentage of babies have it.  On top of being worried for my little girl, I was hormonal, tired and now my boobs started to swell.  

You would think that a pediatric unit, who provided me with a medical grade breast pump would, knowing it was my first baby at least help me put the damn thing together.  But they didn't and I pumped with pieces missing.  So, here I am pumping, getting some milk (because I was producing just THAT much), but not enough to fully feed my baby- so she had to get some formula, which I'm still pissed about to this day.  I'm so pissed about it, because I had more milk than she needed- all the freaking staff had to do was take 5 minutes to go through it all with me.

I requested a lactation consultant visit with me because I felt like I just wasn't getting it.  And lo and behold, in front of the consultant, the Bean totally was doing it.

With a little more confidence, I was certain I could successfully breastfeed on my own.

Nope.

I tried and tried and cried and tried and cried some more.  My husband was constantly supporting me and urging me to keep at it.  Even calling my left breast "old faithful" because feeding seemed to work on that side.  But my hormones and the expectations I set and wasn't meeting were really wearing on me.

But I couldn't give up.  And I couldn't fathom letting my baby eat formula- I just couldn't.

And that's where my breast pump came into play.

I first borrowed one from my friend- despite being told it's not safe, and blah, blah, blah.... Totally fine- just sterilize everything and don't think about the fact that your friend's boob touched the same equipment! Ha!

I pumped and I pumped alot.  I was up keeping with the recommended 8 feeds/pumps a day- getting up in the middle of the night at least twice a night to keep it going.

I pumped so much, and started freezing the milk.  And then I kept pumping and then I ran out of freezer space- FAST.  I bought a deep freezer just for my excess milk. And then I realized I just had more than Bean needed and found a mom who could use my milk for her own baby (and that's for another entry).

Fast forward to today.  Almost 13 months to the day that my little bean was born and we have been breastfeeding and pumping exclusively.  I'm happy to say that except for that hospital stint, she has never had any formula.  

I'm about to stop pumping fully in the next week or two.  Simply put, I've had enough.  Pumping is another job.  I lug the damn thing with me everyday to work.  I have to get away from work for 30 minutes or so.  I have to hook up the machine, wash the parts, store the expressed milk, remember to grab that milk at the end of the day and somehow keep my sanity.  And in the last couple of weeks, I barely pump enough in one sitting for a snack for my girl.  I'm just sooo over it.  

But if I have to do it again, I will renew my vow to feed my baby the way nature intended.  Of course with a little help from technology.

Let's rewind again.  I mentioned earlier that it can be painful.  Oh my God can breastfeeding be painful.  Lanolin was/is my best friend- not only great for the nipple, but great for your lips!  For some reason or another, my Bean's latch just was never right.  Funny enough, just in the last few weeks, her latch has improved- just when I'm thinking we'll stop..... Oi.  In the beginning, my nipples cracked and chafed.  There was peeling and even a little blood. Just goes to show you how fucking determined I was to see this through.  And after trying to feed directly from my breast, I would then sit down and pump.  Again. And again.  And again.

This was my cycle, up until recently.  And maybe not so much with the blood loss.  But I have been pumping at least 3-4 times a day for the last several months since I have come back to work.  It's a commitment I never even considered or imagined was so involved- but it was something I just had to do.  

I didn't even touch on all the high expectations I set for myself in terms of breastfeeding my child.  And how in doing so, I probably made this experience more difficult than it needed to be.

Or how, because I told everyone that I was going to breastfeed, and I would be that mom, who would whip out her boob when baby was hungry, no matter what- that damn it, I was going to win this competition.  Mind you, the only one I was ever competing with, was myself.  

Whatever.  I won this damn thing.  

The first time I had to leave my little Bean for more than a couple hours....

Today at work, my colleague and I were chatting about parenting- much like we do often.  I am thankful hat she is understanding and indulges me by listening to my new parenting rants.  We were chatting specifically about having to leave your baby to go back to work for the first time after maternity leave.  She shared with me a blog post she wrote when she was 21, to her then 4 month old niece describing what she saw in her sister as a first time parent.  It is beautiful, it made me tear up- and it's pretty dead on to what I feel everyday.

Thanks Kristina.  You've motivated me to start writing about my own adventures, trials, tribulations, tears, laughter- and all that good AND bad stuff that comes with being a mother.  For the first time.  In Brooklyn.  In the 21st Century.   

And a full time working mother to boot.

I clearly remember the first day back to work after my four month maternity leave.  I wasn't excited about going back- and not just because I didn't want to leave my little girl- I HATED my job.  Actually, I loved my job, but I strongly disliked my boss.  He was (or rather is!) crazy and manipulative and demanding and hypocritical   And crazy.  It was, certainly not an experience I wanted to exchange for baby kisses and giggles.

I left the apartment.  And nearly went back 4 times.  I just couldn't do it.  I couldn't leave my little girl all day.  But I had to go.  I am the full time working parent in our little family- and my family depends on me bringing home that paycheck every week.  

It was a brutal walk, those 4 blocks to my subway.  I cried so much, any mascara I was wearing, surely streaked my cheeks.  I was a wreck- a mess.  But, and I hate to admit this, some little itty bitty part of me was feeling lucky too.  

As much as I love my daughter, I'm finally realizing that I need to have this.  This being, a career, a job, a life outside my home and family.  Don't get me wrong, if I could trade places with my husband, and know that his paycheck would cover our expenses- I would do it in a heartbeat.  But I also understand the luxury I have that my husband doesn't get to experience.  While being the stay at home parent is definitely an honor, it comes with its drawbacks.  

But that's all for another post.  

Welcome to Brooklyn Mommyhood.  Or at least the way I see it.