This made me smile this morning (then cry), so I'll share it. I needed the smile.
Some of Cayden's first cries. So scared and so innocent, not at all sure of the world he was just thrust into.
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Disillusionment, Resentment, Guilt, Fear and Doubt
First, let me start by saying I've been up almost all night. I got a few winks between 11 p.m. and 1 a.m., but that was it.
I don't know what I was expecting this early parenthood experience to be, but this largely wasn't it.
The well-meaning sentiments to "enjoy these precious moments" seem misguided and I'm always afraid to answer honestly questions about how much I must be enjoying this "special time that goes so fast." It seems so little has been precious or special yet, and time can't seem to go fast enough until things get better.
Because they have to start to get better, right?
Resentment
So many resentful thoughts run through my mind lately, and I'm not at all proud of them. But they're what I think and feel.
I resent Brian for never having to take Cayden by himself for any period of time. I resent him for getting to leave the house and the baby to work and go to the gym. I resent him because he can leave the baby without planning in advance to have milk ready for Cayden. I resent him for sleeping six or seven hours straight, then still saying he's tired the next day. I resent him for getting to sleep in the bed, yet still insisting on sleeping on the loveseat every now and then. I rensent him for continually arguing that formula is the remedy for all our problems. I resent him because he gets to enjoy a couple of stiff drinks at the end of the day.
I resent the baby for never giving me a break. I resent him for not even letting me enjoy a walk outside anymore, since he now wails after 20 minutes in the stroller. I resent him for making me choose between accomplishing something fulfilling for myself or sleeping, because there's just not time for both. I resent him for taking a big piece of me -- the piece that was something other than maid and babysitter. I resent him for making my back and hip hurt so much I'm going to call the doctor. I resent him for making me dread every evening and hate my couch so much. I resent him for fooling me into thinking he's becoming more manageable, then proving the opposite.
I resent this experience for what it has taken from my marriage -- the patience, the romance, the time, the attention. I resent that my biggest daily accomplishment is emptying the dishwasher or completing a load of laundry. I resent that it takes me days to accomplish a simple task, and that I regularly realize days after I meant to do something that it is still not done. I resent pumping and the fact that even when I get a chance to be away from the baby I can never completely get away because I've always got to be aware of what I eat and drink and pump, pump, pump -- before I leave, while I'm gone, when we come back.
I resent that I've never been made to feel so lonely and sad as I was on the couch this morning, silently sobbing, desperately waiting for the minutes and hours to pass.
Guilt
The guilt and shame that come from such dark thoughts is staggering. Do I not love my baby enough? How can I think such things about such a well-tempermented baby and such a loving and supportive husband? What do I do with all that misdirected anger and frustration?
I feel guilty for wishing so hard every now and then for everything to go back to the way it was before we got pregnant.
Fear and Doubt
I'm afraid I was right all along and I'm just not cut out for motherhood. I'm afraid of failing at this, and I doubt I have the patience or strength to do right by my family. I'm afraid I'm not the wife and mother Brian and Cayden deserve. I'm afraid I'll never be happy or satisfied again.
Here's hoping today starts to look brighter from here on out. I could use a good day.
Cayden is six weeks and one day old.
I don't know what I was expecting this early parenthood experience to be, but this largely wasn't it.
The well-meaning sentiments to "enjoy these precious moments" seem misguided and I'm always afraid to answer honestly questions about how much I must be enjoying this "special time that goes so fast." It seems so little has been precious or special yet, and time can't seem to go fast enough until things get better.
Because they have to start to get better, right?
Resentment
So many resentful thoughts run through my mind lately, and I'm not at all proud of them. But they're what I think and feel.
I resent Brian for never having to take Cayden by himself for any period of time. I resent him for getting to leave the house and the baby to work and go to the gym. I resent him because he can leave the baby without planning in advance to have milk ready for Cayden. I resent him for sleeping six or seven hours straight, then still saying he's tired the next day. I resent him for getting to sleep in the bed, yet still insisting on sleeping on the loveseat every now and then. I rensent him for continually arguing that formula is the remedy for all our problems. I resent him because he gets to enjoy a couple of stiff drinks at the end of the day.
I resent the baby for never giving me a break. I resent him for not even letting me enjoy a walk outside anymore, since he now wails after 20 minutes in the stroller. I resent him for making me choose between accomplishing something fulfilling for myself or sleeping, because there's just not time for both. I resent him for taking a big piece of me -- the piece that was something other than maid and babysitter. I resent him for making my back and hip hurt so much I'm going to call the doctor. I resent him for making me dread every evening and hate my couch so much. I resent him for fooling me into thinking he's becoming more manageable, then proving the opposite.
I resent this experience for what it has taken from my marriage -- the patience, the romance, the time, the attention. I resent that my biggest daily accomplishment is emptying the dishwasher or completing a load of laundry. I resent that it takes me days to accomplish a simple task, and that I regularly realize days after I meant to do something that it is still not done. I resent pumping and the fact that even when I get a chance to be away from the baby I can never completely get away because I've always got to be aware of what I eat and drink and pump, pump, pump -- before I leave, while I'm gone, when we come back.
I resent that I've never been made to feel so lonely and sad as I was on the couch this morning, silently sobbing, desperately waiting for the minutes and hours to pass.
Guilt
The guilt and shame that come from such dark thoughts is staggering. Do I not love my baby enough? How can I think such things about such a well-tempermented baby and such a loving and supportive husband? What do I do with all that misdirected anger and frustration?
I feel guilty for wishing so hard every now and then for everything to go back to the way it was before we got pregnant.
Fear and Doubt
I'm afraid I was right all along and I'm just not cut out for motherhood. I'm afraid of failing at this, and I doubt I have the patience or strength to do right by my family. I'm afraid I'm not the wife and mother Brian and Cayden deserve. I'm afraid I'll never be happy or satisfied again.
Here's hoping today starts to look brighter from here on out. I could use a good day.
Cayden is six weeks and one day old.
Monday, September 7, 2009
Roly Poly
At five weeks, six days old, Cayden rolled over for the first time.
Dad saw the first roll solo, but Mama witnessed the second one, which happened later today and confirmed that the first tummy-to-back roll wasn't a fluke.
Gotta get this darn video camera out more.
Dad saw the first roll solo, but Mama witnessed the second one, which happened later today and confirmed that the first tummy-to-back roll wasn't a fluke.
Gotta get this darn video camera out more.
Friday, September 4, 2009
I used to think we needed a waterproof mattress pad for Brian...
...now we need it for me. Back in the day -- a few years after college when Brian still partied like he was in college -- the waterproof pad protected from any bed wetting. For the record, there never was any wetting IN the bed. In random places other than the bed or toilet, maybe, but those are stories for another time.
In any case, we gave up the waterproof mattress pad a couple of years ago, and now I may have to try to find it.
I layed down in bed this morning for about an hour and dozed off. Then I woke up in a puddle of milk. Second time this has happened. Worst part is, it looked like it could have been an ounce or more (big wet spot). Damn, I could have pumped and frozen that, if I hadn't leaked it.
In other news, Cayden weighed 12 pounds, 11.5 ounces yesterday, only 1.5 ounces more than on Tuesday. But Mary said a decent sized stool can weigh three or four ounces, and Chicken Wing did have a medium-sized blow out in his dipey before I weighed him.
Now we're on our way to three generations of babysitters (great-Grandma, Grandma Barb and Auntie Nicole), who will watch Cayden while we go meet with Pastor Wetzel about his baptism service. And then I'm going to meet Jess to make up for that pedicure that never happened.
In any case, we gave up the waterproof mattress pad a couple of years ago, and now I may have to try to find it.
I layed down in bed this morning for about an hour and dozed off. Then I woke up in a puddle of milk. Second time this has happened. Worst part is, it looked like it could have been an ounce or more (big wet spot). Damn, I could have pumped and frozen that, if I hadn't leaked it.
In other news, Cayden weighed 12 pounds, 11.5 ounces yesterday, only 1.5 ounces more than on Tuesday. But Mary said a decent sized stool can weigh three or four ounces, and Chicken Wing did have a medium-sized blow out in his dipey before I weighed him.
Now we're on our way to three generations of babysitters (great-Grandma, Grandma Barb and Auntie Nicole), who will watch Cayden while we go meet with Pastor Wetzel about his baptism service. And then I'm going to meet Jess to make up for that pedicure that never happened.
Wednesday, September 2, 2009
Baby Talk
Toward the end of his fourth week, Cayden starting talking -- cooing, gurgling and making baby noises. Most of them are little yelps and sighs accompanied by smiles (they're definitely smiles, by the way), and dad is trying to catch the "active alert" stage on camera to share.
The first few weeks of parenthood is still one of the hardest, most frustrating and most exhausting experiences I've ever had, but the little developments really do give glimmers of hope and encouragement that keep me going. Like Mary the lactation consultant says, we're still in the dark tunnel, but we're beginning to see the light at the end.
No, I don't regret becoming a Mama (to answer Erin's question), regardless of how dark the dark times are. I'm just honest about those discouraging momments (or days), as I hope to be honest about all the exciting developments and rewards to come.
The first few weeks of parenthood is still one of the hardest, most frustrating and most exhausting experiences I've ever had, but the little developments really do give glimmers of hope and encouragement that keep me going. Like Mary the lactation consultant says, we're still in the dark tunnel, but we're beginning to see the light at the end.
No, I don't regret becoming a Mama (to answer Erin's question), regardless of how dark the dark times are. I'm just honest about those discouraging momments (or days), as I hope to be honest about all the exciting developments and rewards to come.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
5 weeks
Cayden weighed 12 pounds, 10 ounces today, and I added a "growth chart" on the side, so I can remember his growth rates.
The fussy bruitzer seems to have hit a stage where he won't fall asleep (meaning he cries and cries and cries) unless he's being held by someone. And usually that someone also has to be bouncing or swaying him.
I got used to carrying 19 pounds around my middle, but constantly rocking and bouncing 13 pounds at my ribs is a whole 'nuther story. My back hurts. But the excercise ball and sling are helping.
The fussy bruitzer seems to have hit a stage where he won't fall asleep (meaning he cries and cries and cries) unless he's being held by someone. And usually that someone also has to be bouncing or swaying him.
I got used to carrying 19 pounds around my middle, but constantly rocking and bouncing 13 pounds at my ribs is a whole 'nuther story. My back hurts. But the excercise ball and sling are helping.
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