Saying Goodbye

I’ve been inundated by waves of nostalgia of late.

The babies are gone. An incredible little person in the form of a 7 year-old boy greets me every morning and awes me with stories of learning, friendship and growing up every evening. An incredible little person in the form of a nearly 3 year-old girl shows me the power and strength of will in a larger than life personality. Both are so very loving. Both are so very courageous.

I am humbled by the privilege to mother each of them.

Watching your children grow into themselves is nothing short of miraculous. As exciting as it has been for me, I can’t help but feel haunted by the ghosts of the babies I once cradled in my arms for endless hours – quite often in the middle of the night.

I find myself lost in memories of the cooing, the first recognition of their extremities, the gurgling laughter bubbling out of cherub cheeks when their favourite stuffy reappeared from behind the cushion again and again.

I find myself projecting into the future. What will their future selves be like? Who will they grow up to be? Above all, my only hope for each of them is happiness. As long as they are happy and at peace, everything else will fall into place.

But, then I have to nudge myself out of these reveries because I’m missing them now. These days which sometimes seem so long, are fleeting. Losing myself in their past or in the possibilities of their future prevents me from enjoying them NOW.

I don’t know if all parents experience this kind of nostalgia. And, I never in a million years thought I would fall privy to such sentimentality. But here I am.

So, rather than hiding from my feelings, I’m owning them with the intention of being able to lovingly say goodbye to the past, to the babies which brought so much joy into my life, and embrace the present. Be with the children who light me from head to toe. I can see now that this will be a bit of a state of being for me in this whole parenting business.

Nonetheless, every night, once they are fast asleep after a day full of adventure and fun, I indulge in a brief moment of mothering by tucking their blanket around them, ensuring their favourite stuffy is cuddled up close, and after a soft kiss on the cheek I quietly whisper good night. Another day has passed taking them farther and farther away from the babies they used to be.

That’s when I realize, I couldn’t be happier because it means I get the chance to witness these beautiful people unfolding and growing into themselves.

And, that is something I don’t ever want to miss.

 

Mommy Mondays: Gentle Parenting

Mommy Mondays WM

I am going to link today’s post with the meme Musing Mondays by MizB at Should Be Reading. On Musing Mondays she asks several questions about books and reading. Today I will answer this question in my Mommy Mondays post:

What book did you recently buy for yourself and why you chose it

from amazon

One of the books I recently purchased is Raising Your Kids Without Raising Your Voice by Sarah Chana Radcliffe. Keep reading for the why I did:

The words of wisdom passed along by other mothers when I was pregnant did nothing to prepare me for the way an infant, and then toddler and then preschooler would uproot me into a topsy-turvy world that in no way resembled what was once the serene landscape of my calm, orderly life.

I feel better prepared for the waves of change that my second child has started. Smug. That’s it. I am actually smug at how well I have adapted to said changes and how well I have managed a new life with baby #2.

Now that my first born is well into age 5, I feel caught in a storm of change. Again.

My son is very articulate. He reads. He adds and subtracts with ease. He does simple multiplication. He has mad soccer skills…is social and boisterous and sweet and fun and respectful and outspoken. He is everything I dreamed my five year old son would be…and everything I didn’t.

Wow. The Rage. Impatience. Frustration. The sheer force of emotion that I feel. Yes. Those are my emotions when his will is unbending, unyielding, impregnable just because he can say no and mean it. It’s impressive really. And, when I am sane again I can’t help but admire his tenacity – his strong sense of self.

Except, when I am sane again, I also can’t help but feel…like I should handle this better. How on earth can one little 5 year old with gorgeous brown eyes whom I simply adore bring me to my knees with frustration? After a few episodes of intense disagreement…every cell in my body screamed at me that my relationship with my son would suffer greatly if I kept us on this path of daily confrontation.

I needed a way to connect with him again. To remind him that I’m on his side. To remember that he is getting older and I have to adjust my parenting.

And the universe responded by bringing into my life the philosophy of gentle parenting.

Gentle parenting is not about giving in…it’s about tuning in. It’s about authentic connection with your child so he feels validated – not controlled, not belittled, not unimportant. I honestly believe that emotional health is critical to a child’s well being and education. It is my responsibility to ensure that my children are emotionally healthy – and that starts at home…with me…with their dad. As a family we can connect and do this without so much struggle.

It all sounds so lovely on paper – validate, connect, empower. And, it is. It is. It is easy during …well during the easy times.

I just hope I can remember to breathe and create the space within me to help us through the stressful, challenging times because I refuse to let the beautiful and amazing experiences I’ve had with my son turn into daily battles and power-struggles.

Will it work? I hope so. Will it solve all the challenges that parenting brings? I wish it so.

In any case, I love the idea of raising my children without the gripping frustration that they can so innocently (and not so innocently) cause. There will be hits and misses…I just hope the hits will make the misses easier to bounce back from.

I don’t believe any one book or any one strategy will solve all parenting dilemmas. I do believe that the more educated I am then the more resources and tools I will have to at least feel like I can give my children the best of myself and help them along their path. And, when all else fails…there’s always that stash of chocolate in the pantry that makes us all smile.

Have you tried any gentle parenting strategies? Any advice?

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Bookish Thursdays: Cinderella Ate My Daughter

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Summary from GoodreadsSweet and sassy or predatory and hardened, sexualized girlhood influences our daughters from infancy onward, telling them that how a girl looks matters more than who she is. Somewhere between the exhilarating rise of Girl Power in the 1990s and today, the pursuit of physical perfection has been recast as the source of female empowerment. And commercialization has spread the message faster and farther, reaching girls at ever-younger ages. But how dangerous is pink and pretty, anyway? Being a princess is just make-believe; eventually they grow out of it . . . or do they? In search of answers, Peggy Orenstein visited Disneyland, trolled American Girl Place, and met parents of beauty-pageant preschoolers tricked out like Vegas showgirls. The stakes turn out to be higher than she ever imagined. From premature sexualization to the risk of depression to rising rates of narcissism, the potential negative impact of this new girlie-girl culture is undeniable—yet armed with awareness and recognition, parents can effectively counterbalance its influence in their daughters’ lives.

I read this book in the summer…the beginning of the summer.  While I have forgotten many of the details of what I read, I do recall how it made me feel.

I encountered a spectrum of emotions actually. I can’t quite decide whether my first emotion was fear of the world in which I will raise my daughter or the all-encompassing “duh?” of what seems to be common sense…you know, like I know this stuff already because I’ve lived it and continue to live it every day.

I felt disarmed because Orenstein offers so much insight into a culture that I feel will swallow my daughter and I have no defense against it. As my dear friend (whom recommended this book) wisely reminded me (I’m paraphrasing here): “It is the crux of feminist social analysis…the problems are clearly laid out…but there never seems to be a solution”.

Once I grappled with this feeling of powerlessness and got a grip on my fear and self-righteousness, I devoured the book. It is thoroughly researched and each argument for and against girly-girl culture is well presented and supported. While my tendencies are feminist and I believe in raising my daughter with an empowered voice and sense of self, I am also the first to buy her a cute pink outfit with cute bow to match…I mean she has gorgeous creamy skin and dark silky hair…how can I not?!?

And there is the dilemma. Or the irony. Or whatever you want to call it…moms of this “post-feminist” (in quotations because can we ever really be post-feminist?), post-girl-power age have a fine line to walk. We understand the importance of looking our best and the danger of succumbing to media-fueled images of female sexuality. We understand that being true to ourselves does not always look like the cookie-cutter version of femininity. But how do we pass along this knowledge to our daughters and help them navigate the incessant messages of what they’re supposed to be in favour of just being who they are?

This book will not offer any solutions. Not a one. But it does clearly explain the root of the marketing machine and the power of the bottom-line in the hopes that our decisions for our daughters will at least be informed ones. More importantly, it really sends the message that your support and guidance are vital when she is making her own choices.

This a quick read that will get you thinking. I highly recommend it.

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Bookish Thursdays: Reading With Your Child

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My son has been looking at books since he was four months old (read more about that here). My daughter is now doing the same. It is the most special time of the day to have my baby on my lap as we read the alphabet, count to ten, or flip through a cute and cuddly touch and feel board book. Or to laugh out loud at the antics of Captain Underpants as my son now proudly takes on some of the reading himself.

It is the book-lover in me and the English teacher in me that drove me to instil a love and respect for books in my son and I hope to continue that with my daughter.

There is something about reading that teaches us to slow down, to appreciate the written word and to use our imaginations in ways that modern society does not challenge us to do in our every day lives.

The importance of reading to children and babies is firmly supported by a plethora of journals, researchers, parenting websites etc etc etc.

I do not pretend to be well versed in this research – but, I do know that as a mother of two my heart is warmed by my son’s excitement when we discuss our favourite parts of a book and  my 7 month old’s little fingers grasping at her book when I say “turn the page”.

I admit that as an English teacher, I am aware of the connection between being a good reader and being able to inquire, research, deduce, create and write well. So instilling a love of books is as much about their education as it is about loving the written word. This is easy for me because I love reading. But what about those adults who don’t? If you’re at a loss for how to give your child something that you may lack, but you know is important, here are a few tips that might help:

watermarked children and books

They deprive me of sleep, push me to the borders of irrational rage, squeeze every last bit of patience out of me – but when we sit to read everything dissolves around us. My children and I willingly lose ourselves in the magic of the words and pictures.

Love for reading is a gift that will last forever. Teach it with passion. Give it with abandon. Your children will thank you.

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Just When…But Then…

from diynatural.com

Just when you get a chance to sit down to write…the baby cries in her crib waking from her nap much earlier than anticipated. But then she gives you that huge, toothless grin making you feel like a hero swooping in to save her from the dark.

Just when you finally get to the washroom…your 5 year old needs to talk and opens the door believing it is perfectly normal to carry on a conversation with mom while she’s on the toilet. But then he finishes that convo with “You’re my bestest mommy ever!” Wait, what? How many mommies do you have…never mind, I get it and I’ll take it.

Just when you think you might have an afternoon to watch a movie…it’s three days later and you’re still only half way through it. But then when you finally get to finish it you realize you got two movie afternoons instead of one.

Just when you’ve made yourself a steaming cup of tea…the phone rings, someone’s at the door, and it’s time to pick up your child at school…you return to iced tea. But then your child hugs you and asks that you have a snack together while he chats about his day.

Just when you grab that cable bill you’ve been meaning to get to…you realize it’s a week overdue.  But then…there’s no upside to this one except it’s only a week overdue.

Just when you’ve purchased that book you’ve been itching to read for a few months…it’s a month later and the book hasn’t left the store’s bag; it is buried under flyers and school work and all sorts of paper that life throws at you somewhere in the pile on that spot on the kitchen counter reserved for miscellaneous…which helps to explain the past due cable bill. But then that magical moment happens when hubby is out bike riding with child 1 and child 2 is napping and all is quiet and there is nothing else to do but read. Ah!

Just when there’s that beautiful sunny day…you can’t use your backyard since the swampy mess is still there because you’ve missed the landscaper’s calls because of course he always calls while you’re trying to get your baby to nap so you can get some writing time. But then that sunny day is followed by three days of rain giving the landscaper time to get to your house and figure out a game plan.

Just when you sit to watch a little mind-numbing television (or television to take away the numbing of your mind)…hubby wants to talk about work and current events and house stuff and gossip and cool places to travel or to eat…you know, normal adult stuff that your brain has trouble computing.  But then your mind wakes up a little and you remember what it’s like to be you.

Just when you think you can get a moment to yourself…it’s 9 o’clock and in your world that basically means it’s almost midnight (since you’ll be up one or two times with the baby and sleeping in has become a hazy memory of a very distant past)…it’s time to get to sleep so you can do it all over again the next day. But then the baby strangely wakes up, feeds and allows you to sleep until 6 am…almost 9 hours of sleep! Amazing. I can do anything after that much sleep!

What are your just when…but then moments?

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Mommy Mondays: Second Time Around

Mommy Mondays WM

When I became a mother for the first time it seemed like I was constantly on high alert. I was stressed about my baby boy’s sleeping (or, non-sleeping) habits. It was all organic, home made foods. I rushed to wash his hands, change his clothes or his barely used diaper whenever a hint of germs or spit up or whiff of foulness was detected. My radar was sharp. I missed nothing.

I would invariably catch the attention of a more relaxed mother, perhaps on her second or third child, who would smile (condescendingly? nope, I think remembering her own hysteria) and say “he’s your first…it’ll be so much easier with your second”. I would nod and laugh and say something short like “I bet” while groaning inwardly.

or

The blissfully relaxed smiling face would say “You’ll be so much more relaxed with your next child” and I’d say “I guess so.” But what I really meant was:  ‘Really? You mean you can see my anxiety-ridden shoulders that are practically in my ears and my tight smile that is about to make my cheeks explode?”

or

Mother of Year would say “You’ll worry less with your second”. No response. Just a head nod as I would think, “Mind your own f***ing business because if I decide to have a second I’m not going to let that child swim in their own shit, be covered in vomit and drag themselves all over the grocery store because I’ve learned that babies/toddlers are tougher than we think.”

Ahhhhh. Even though there’s nothing worse than someone belittling your present experience because in the future it’ll seem like a trifle, I know that they all meant well.

Well, I’ve had my second child. And, while I still strive to give my daughter the same attention and care I gave my son…it is different.

Am I more relaxed? Yes, but not in her care. I am more confident in my abilities to care for her and to read her. I don’t necessarily find her easier – it’s more that I don’t feel like a baby-idiot any more.

I accept that the intentions of those mothers who were trying to help me relax with my first baby were good. Don’t we all love to impart the lessons we’ve learned to ease the hardships or trials of others. Except it doesn’t really work that way. We learn through our own experiences. Period.

I’ve been a mother to two children for three months now.  So, how have I changed my approach to motherhood as a consequence of my experiences?

  1. I will carry and hug and kiss and cuddle my children as much as I want. They grow fast and I will never, ever have this day with them again. I want my children to look back at their childhood and know, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that they were loved.  And even if they do get a little spoiled with hugs and kisses…better that than feel less than important.
  2. When my baby cries I will pick her up. If my baby needs to fall asleep in my arms, she can.  If she wants to sleep with me, she can…because her brother did…and now he’s fine and sleeps independently…well not since his sister was born (but that’s another story)…and I doubt either of them will require to sleep with us when they’re adolescents…
  3. If I am in any way feeling irritated or less than patient, it is better to wait a few minutes before tending to my children. A deep breath, a moment to myself will help me be there for them without feeling exasperated.
  4. I can leave my baby in her play pen to simply take in her surroundings, check out her toys, get to know her hands and the sound of her own voice. I am not neglecting her because a baby does not require constant stimulation.
  5. I know that dirt won’t kill them. I get it that it is good for their bodies to be exposed to germs. I know that rolling around on grass, kneeling in soil, playing in sand, and jumping in mud puddles should be done with abandon. And, afterwards it should be thoroughly cleaned off. I cannot leave them dirty or in dirty clothes for long. Making the memory is awesome…smelling the memory, not so much.
  6. I will now approach my first born with the same confidence that I do my second born. My experiences with my son will always be a first for me…it’s not fair to him that I muddle it all up with anxiety to then breeze through life with my daughter.
  7. Babies just want to feel loved and protected. All the extra stuff that marketers wish to push down our throats … it doesn’t matter. The same goes for older kids too.
  8. Everything else can wait.
  9. My health matters. I will take care of myself because I hope to be with my children throughout their journey. As my son loves to ask me, “Mommy, how old will you be when I’m 100?”

Now that I’m doing this for a second time…I’m still on high alert but my shoulders are squared where they should be. These are a but a few ways…if you’re a first time mom and these help you out, great! If not, revel in your anxiety and worry…should you choose to do this again, the anxiety will magically disappear. However, I would never dream of telling you so.  

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Bookish Thursdays: My Son’s Life In Books

Bookish Thursdays WM

For the past 5 years my husband and I have been adamant about instilling a love for books, an appreciation for literature, a mind that thinks beyond the screen in our son. And, so, my son’s books could very well stock a day care, preschool and library. No regrets on the money spent on books or the fines on overdue books. We are left with rich memories of bedtime stories, rainy day tales and early morning reading when it was way too early to be up and about.

Age 0-2 years:

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These were some of our favourites. I exaggerate not when I say I read Good Night, Sleep Tight every night for 2 years. Every. Single. Night. We even took it on holiday. At 3 he was able to recite most of these by rote. I recited them in my sleep. By seven months he knew what “turn the page” meant and loved flipping to the next part of the story.

Age 2-3 years:

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We graduated to more sophisticated, longer reads. He loved reading about his favourite television or movie characters. The best part was giving life to the characters with different voices and intonations. Oh, and we read ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas well into July.

Age 4 – present:

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This phase of his reading began with Harry Potter and The Philosopher’s Stone (Read about that here). It was love at first word. He was hooked and now LOVES chapter books. We read them to him, and now that he’s learning how to read he helps with the reading too. It is incredible to see his brown eyes light up with delight, joy, laughter, curiosity, intrigue…as we read each book and listen to the plot unfold.

My son’s journey through literature has been exciting, fun and adventurous. There is nothing we love more than cuddling up to a great read. I can’t wait to see where his journey takes him next.

Mommy Mondays: Bottle or Breast? This Time, Breast.

Mommy Mondays WM

Where do I even begin?  The past (almost) 7 weeks have been blissfully beautiful. Seriously.  I’m not sure if it’s the knowledge that this is my last baby or the fact that I’m an “experienced” mom or the gripping nostalgia for my son’s babyhood every time I look at my placid baby girl – whatever it is, I have never been more happy, nor felt more complete.

If you’ve read recent posts then you are aware that my breastfeeding experience with my first born was difficult at best. After having had my daughter, I can clearly see why.

The day before my daughter was born, the universe was really looking out for me because it brought into my lap this book:

courtesy: accustomedchaos.com

It was handed over by a dear friend who recently had twins and was able to breastfeed both.  She became my nursing hero and guru – especially once I witnessed her in her customary hurricane-style whip out a nursing pillow, plop each baby down beside her and latch them on comfortably within seconds at our friends’ house then proceed to chit chat and catch up with all of us as we stared in awe.

The day before delivery, I passed by her home and she passed along this book.  I was not feeling well that day and so laid on the couch for the rest of the day and perused The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding.  I didn’t want to get too engrossed because one of two things would happen: I would feel overwhelmed and put the breaks on nursing before even having my baby or I would tap into my neurotic self, memorize every detail and then drive myself crazy because things were not going as described in “the book”.

The book is pretty hard-core and I felt intimidated.  However, one passage resonated.  One passage stuck with me and I knew I would take it with me into the delivery room (little did I know that that would be about 12 hours later!)

The book naturally sings the praises of skin-to-skin – which I thought I had done with my son.  According to the book, skin-to-skin should occur immediately after birth where the naked infant is placed on the mother’s bare chest. It is a calm, peaceful and quiet introduction of you to your baby. It should take as long as you need – not as long as the hospital deems necessary or appropriate.  I immediately saw flashes of my son being shoved onto my chest, then quickly whisked away to be cleaned, checked etc. only to be returned to me swaddled in blankets.  I shuddered and vowed the same would  not occur with my daughter.

According to The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding, during skin-to-skin time the following occurs:

When a baby is born, his instincts and reflexes help him crawl to the nipple and latch on, even if you don’t help at all. […] As she recovers from the journey from womb to world, she’ll begin to think about sucking, usually sometime in that first hour.  She may start by drooling, or making sucking movements with her lips or bringing her fist to her mouth and bob her face on and off your skin. You can help her move closer to the breast or support her as she finds her way down. […] At some point, when her face is near your nipples, she’ll lift her head, open her mouth wide, latch, and begin to suck. She’s breastfeeding! (page 63-64)

Another flash of a nurse shoving my son’s face and mouth onto my breast.  She tried to latch him on and when he didn’t want to latch on (who would with that kind of treatment?), she blamed me for not preparing my nipples for nursing!  I was like WTF???  How was I supposed to prepare my nipples?  How come that never came up in the birthing course? That nurse set my son and I on a path toward breastfeeding disaster.  Again I vowed: the same would not occur with my daughter.

6 hours later, after I had put my son to bed, labour began.  It was a calm, easy (albeit painful), labour and delivery. My daughter entered this world with serenity, a short cry and eager to know me.  We lounged with each other for hours.  She was cleaned up, checked and brought back to me in her adorable naked glory and she laid on my chest forever.  We chatted and met each other face to face.  And, before I knew it, my perfect little girl began her downward wiggle.  Her head bobbed and her body moved and I let her do what she needed.  She got herself to my breast and with little help from me, she found what she was looking for and ate.  I was stunned.  It actually happened as described in the book!

From that moment forward I knew I would be able to nurse my baby. It was not easy. I had sore nipples, engorged breasts and after pains (the lovely labour-like pains that accompany breastfeeding with second and subsequent children). I fed her every three hours to get milk production going – which meant about an hour and a half of sleep between feedings. My phone was always within reach so I could text my “nursing-coach-mama-of-twins” and my mother was always within reach to hug me, reassure me and bring me water, tea or her delicious, Colombian “colada de pan” because breastfeeding made me so bloody hungry at three a.m.

It has been 6.5 weeks and we are successfully breastfeeding. I have (mostly) dealt with my mommy guilt of not being able to see breastfeeding through with my son who is now 4 and awesome. I hope my experience can help one mom out there as she begins her breastfeeding journey or one pregnant woman out there who is considering breastfeeding. It is after all a very personal journey.

My Lessons Learned:

  1. Empower yourself and read parts of The Womanly Art of Breastfeeding. 
  2. Skin-to-skin is not only essential, it is the most beautiful moment you can experience. After hours of pain, breathing, waiting, pushing it is a most calming, joyful reward to simply be with your newborn. If you have complications and cannot do skin-to-skin immediately after birth, then as soon as you have your baby in your arms, unswaddle her, bare your chest and snuggle her onto you. Get under a warm blanket. Enjoy.
  3. Natural birth or not…it is up to you.  Everything I’ve heard or read points to natural birth and I was all for “natural birth” when I had my son.  5 cm in I got an epidural and watched Meet the Parents until it was time to push.  He was a sleepy baby that fell asleep at the breast…so I thought maybe I shouldn’t have succumbed to a pain-free delivery. I got an epidural at 3 cm with my daughter, and took a 2 hour nap before it was time to push.  She was not sleepy and ate well from the start. Same epidural – two completely different experiences. Just make sure you own your labour/delivery experience. The rest will fall into place.
  4. The first few weeks of breastfeeding are hell.  I’m no expert.  I haven’t polled thousands of women. The women I know who have breastfed basically concur.  However, we also all agree – it really does get easier! Every time you think “I can’t do this” picture a video of your future self telling you “Don’t give up! It does get easier. I promise. The pain will go away, your nips and breasts will heal and your baby will feed.”
  5. Stay hydrated. Eat well. Sleep as much as you can.
  6. Have a breastfeeding partner – someone who you know will be there for you every step of the way without putting an ounce of doubt in your mind. Now is not the time for negativity or reverse psychology. Besides, you’ll need another pair of hands to pass you your water or phone or tissue etc.
  7. Surrender. This is temporary.  It will not always be this demanding. It will pass. The more relaxed you are and accepting that this new normal will be over soon the easier it will be. (This was the toughest lesson for me because I love to be in control of my environment).
  8. Housework. Cooking. Laundry. Can. All. Wait.
  9. Say yes to all offers of help.
  10. Seek assistance…breastfeeding clinics, lactation consultants, other moms, friends etc. If the advice of one does not help you, seek another.  If you can, have a few phone numbers stored or websites bookmarked before baby arrives.  Or have your breastfeeding partner do some research for you while you sleep.

My next mission: pump and store. I hope a few bottle feeds a week will give me more sleep and offer me a little more freedom.

Lastly, if it doesn’t work for you – it doesn’t work.  Find a way to feed your baby that will give you peace of mind and don’t look back. I formula fed my first after 5 weeks of breastfeeding hell and am now breastfeeding my second after 6 weeks of not-so-bad and I know I’m a good mother to both.

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She’s Here!

Literally, 2 days after my last post…which has been up for three weeks…my baby girl arrived!!!  Hence, the reason I’ve virtually vanished on-line.

Labour and delivery lasted 7 hours from start to baby in my arms and she is absolutely precious.  We have all fallen in love.  Big brother is adjusting well.  Most days he is happy and just adores his sister.  There have been days of challenging behaviour – mostly due to the loss of being mommy’s sole focus.  We are moving through the ebbs and flows of a newborn as well as we can.

There is so much to write about!  I just wish I had the time…since some feedings can take up to two hours.  Or, when there is time…then I wish I had the energy because I’d rather be sleeping since my mind is in a perpetual state of haze.  Or, if I can’t sleep, it’s because I’m spending time with my four year old…or finally getting to that mountain of laundry.

I’m lucky in that I have help.  My mother has been invaluable.  In fact, I have warned her that she may very well never go home again.  And, husband has taken on extra duties as well.

I have successfully stuck to breastfeeding (which was a nightmare the first time around, read about that here).  I will write about the experience this time around soon.  I am not pumping.  I remain ambivalent at best about the pump since with my son it was basically horrid.  So, I am my daughter’s source of food.  Which means I am up for all feedings.  I am ok with that because I really wanted her and I to learn this whole breastfeeding thing together, and once we are confident in what we can do I will attempt to pump, store milk and receive help with night time feedings.

Thank you to all who have sent messages via various avenues asking about baby.  She is healthy, lovely and an absolute joy!  My family feels complete…she is a blessing.

I cannot write daily right now.  But I will try to write weekly as I do miss blogging.

I hope you are all well and enjoyed a beautiful Christmas season.  All the best in 2014 my dear readers!

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Mommy Mondays: 37 Weeks 5 Days

Mommy Mondays WM

Only during pregnancy do days matter – especially near the end.  The final countdown to the moment when you finally get to meet the little person who invaded your body and knew every one of your secrets for 40 weeks give or take a week or a day or two, must include days.

Her room is ready.  Walls have been painted a lovely lilac and her white furniture is ready.  Decals of butterflies, flowers and bees decorate her walls – lovingly placed by her parents and brother.  Her clothes, new and gently used from generous friends, are washed and neatly folded in the drawers. Receiving blankets, wash cloths, socks, mitts, caps – the whole lot awaits my infant girl.  Big brother helped to select the softest bunny in the world for his little sister and her bassinet stands gloriously next to my side of the bed.  I peak inside every morning visualizing her in it and am simultaneously overcome with memories of  how her brother once slept in there all bundled up.

Our bags are ready.  Everything is ready.  Everyone is ready to hear the news.  I am not ready.

I have a list of things to do, to complete before she arrives.  Most of it includes finishing Christmas shopping and wrapping.  There are also a few more things to settle in the new house.  Our short list of names keeps changing and I’d love just one more good night of sleep.

I feel like I am racing time each time my uterus hardens as I live through Braxton Hicks.  I stop and wonder after some period-like cramping that I haven’t felt in…well, in 37 weeks and 5 days!  I wonder if this new found energy to settle, put away, clean up, cross off one more thing from my perpetual “to-do” list means that I am in nesting mode.  I know it all means she will appear soon – but I still need a little more time.

I also know that I will miss feeling her move around inside me terribly.  She has been a most physical inhabitant.  Her brother was calm and occasionally reminded me he was there.  She has been happily bouncing around since I was 17 weeks!  I will miss feeling her and having her all to myself.

As with all things parenting related, when a baby decides to arrive has nothing to do with me or my wishes.  It is the precursor to every lesson that parenting brings, particularly how you are no longer in control of your own life.  It is all about letting go and letting life happen.

I can do that.  I can let go.  Just give me about 2 weeks and 5 days.

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