I wrote a post a while ago, just a totally new mom sharing what was working for us. There are some things I either forgot to put on that list, or didn't know about yet. So without further ado, here's the second edition of things I'd recommend having with a newborn in the house...
+ Wonder Weeks: There's a book, a website, and an app. For the sake of simplicity, we've been using the app. The theory behind the 'wonder weeks' is that there are growth spurts in baby's brain at fairly predictable intervals. You enter baby's due date into the app and they predict your baby's 'wonder weeks' and give you a detailed description of what's going on in their brain at that age, and what skills they are developing during that time.
+ Simply Noise app (for 'brown noise'): We use this if we aren't at home with the fan in the nursery.
+ Ergo Carrier: I'm sure lots of carriers work well, but we like this brand now that he's older, and Ross doesn't feel too silly wearing it!
+ Motorola video baby monitor: It would be nice to be able to pull up the baby monitor view on a smartphone, but the paranoid side of me does like that this monitor is on its own network, and not WiFi. Since I'm hearing impaired, I especially like that I can glance at the video screen, and that there are agreen and red lights across the tip that will light up as he makes more and more noise. The light often wakes me up before I hear him through the monitor. I also like that this monitor tells us what the room temp is, since we're still figuring out air flow in our house.
+ Belly Bandit BFF: I'm still skeptical of the "belly compression to lose baby weight" movement, but when I finally started to go to physical therapy around 12 weeks post-partum, they recommended getting a belly band for the swelling I was having and HOLY COW I felt so much better the first day I wore it! I wish I'd had it from day one in the hospital, because I think it also would've helped prevent a lot of the lower back pain I had in those first few weeks. I liked this better than a lot of other ones I tried because it fits over your hips, too, which is where most of my pain was.
+ Target Up and Up breastmilk storage bags: I'd heard horror stories about generic bags beaking in the freezer and leaking when thawing, but so far these have been superb. They're nice and thick, they seal well, and I haven't had any issues with freezing and thawing. I'm so grateful, because they're so much cheaper than the brand name ones!
+ Foundational Concepts: In France, every postpartum woman has a Physical Therapy evaluation. Here, not so much. Women get right back to running or Crossfit or what have you without really knowing how their pelvic strength has changed, and then end up with long-term complications. I had a ton of pain and swelling post-partum and finally referred myself to PT. Best decision ever.
+ Herbal bath from New Birth Company: Absolutely ask your health care provider if you're allowed to take a bath post delivery. Certain surgical incisions or pre-existing health conditions might exclude you from this. But in my case, the Midwife recommended taking a warm bath every day to help with the pain from my stitches. For the first 2-3 baths, I used an herbal bath pouch made by one of the Midwives I used to work with. You boil water and steep the pouch like tea, and then add the water to your bath. It felt so good. Now I kind of want to go buy another one!
+ Little Remedies medications: I love these because they really only contain the ingredients they need. They are naturally flavored, but they don't have sugars or dyes in them. Do you know how hard it is to find Infant Tylenol without Red #40? Impossible. Until I found a store that sold the Little Remedies version. So far, we've used their gas drops, their gripe water, and their acetaminophen. Noah LOVES to gulp all of these down!
+ Nose Frida: Sadly, Noah got his first cold right around 4 months and we made an urgent trip to Buy Buy Baby when our bulb syringe just wasn't cutting it. The Nose Frida got a TON of snot out of his nose. I don't know how else to say it. It works so well! Of course Noah hated it, but he could always breathe better afterward!
+ Cloth Diapering Class: I wish I'd done this 5 months ago! It was so much easier just asking questions in person than trying to read everything online.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Saturday, September 20, 2014
Quick Six
This year went by SO fast. Probably because we didn't sleep much from June on. What a fun but crazy year of marriage. Pretty non-eventful on the marriage front (thankfully), but crazy on the life front: new jobs, new house, new baby...
One of my good friends watched Noah for a few hours while Ross and I slipped away for our annual pizza dinner. We went to SPIN and enjoyed sangria on the patio. It was blissful!
It's so crazy to look at Ross and Noah and think how easy it would've been to check out when things fell apart three years ago. But if I had checked out, I wouldn't be HERE. With THEM. And I'm so grateful God held us together when it seemed impossible and undesirable.
Can I be totally unoriginal in my sleep deprived state, and steal a sentiment that's so true, but so not mine?
One of my good friends watched Noah for a few hours while Ross and I slipped away for our annual pizza dinner. We went to SPIN and enjoyed sangria on the patio. It was blissful!
It's so crazy to look at Ross and Noah and think how easy it would've been to check out when things fell apart three years ago. But if I had checked out, I wouldn't be HERE. With THEM. And I'm so grateful God held us together when it seemed impossible and undesirable.
Can I be totally unoriginal in my sleep deprived state, and steal a sentiment that's so true, but so not mine?
Remember that thing about God restoring the years the locusts had eaten? Three things in front of me that I shouldn't be staring at. Redemption never gets old. It's never boring to look at. My very own parted sea.
Monday, September 8, 2014
Back to Work
Thirteen weeks off of work is a complete luxury. So luxurious that it balances out the ludicrous stress of 100% unpaid "maternity leave." BUT I'd do it again in a heartbeat, and I feel really good about the part-time hours I'm working for now. SO thankful to have flexibility in my career.
That being said, 13 weeks felt never-ending when it started. I don't really sleep for more than 3 hours at a time yet, so it certainly hasn't felt like a vacation, but my return to work flat-out SNUCK UP on me. Rude. It actually came a little sooner than anticipated. My manager texted me at the end of August saying, "by the way, one of your certifications expired and you need to renew it before you can work again." Oops. So Noah and I went to a 5-hour STABLE class the first Tuesday of September. It was actually a nice way to ease back in.
Then, Saturday night came. My parents were in town and helped Ross out a lot over the weekend! But I still didn't take a nap beforehand because this kid doesn't do naps in general. Also, I was super anxious. Then 4pm came and I was EXHAUSTED and so SAD and I just started sobbing. Poor Ross. "Me going back to work means Noah is OLD! It's going too FAST! I can't stay awake ALL NIGHT! I'm so TIRED!" Seriously. Every one of those feelings was legit and heart-wrenching.
But I got dressed. ("Last time I wore scrubs I was in LABOR!") (Although these particular pants hadn't fit me since the first trimester. Yay!)
Thawed milk for Noah to eat overnight. ("He was so little back in July!")
Packed my extra bags so I could pump.
And said goodbye to my favorite tired baby.
The whole drive to work, though, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. I was fully clothed, I had my badge, my lunch, my water bottle, my pumping stuff, and my purse. Oh but wait. I don't have my BABY. He's only been coming to work with me for the past year!
I missed his post-coffee dance parties. I missed rubbing my belly out of habit as I walked down the hall. It was weird. But it went okay. I think eventually I was too tired to be sad. By the time I got home and went to bed, I'd been up for something like 30 hours and of course, the last full night of sleep I got was 3.5 months ago, so there's that. But we did it. I got lots of sweet, sweet grins from our bald baby when I got home, and Ross survived a night of solo parenting.
Can't ask for more than that!
That being said, 13 weeks felt never-ending when it started. I don't really sleep for more than 3 hours at a time yet, so it certainly hasn't felt like a vacation, but my return to work flat-out SNUCK UP on me. Rude. It actually came a little sooner than anticipated. My manager texted me at the end of August saying, "by the way, one of your certifications expired and you need to renew it before you can work again." Oops. So Noah and I went to a 5-hour STABLE class the first Tuesday of September. It was actually a nice way to ease back in.
Then, Saturday night came. My parents were in town and helped Ross out a lot over the weekend! But I still didn't take a nap beforehand because this kid doesn't do naps in general. Also, I was super anxious. Then 4pm came and I was EXHAUSTED and so SAD and I just started sobbing. Poor Ross. "Me going back to work means Noah is OLD! It's going too FAST! I can't stay awake ALL NIGHT! I'm so TIRED!" Seriously. Every one of those feelings was legit and heart-wrenching.
But I got dressed. ("Last time I wore scrubs I was in LABOR!") (Although these particular pants hadn't fit me since the first trimester. Yay!)
Thawed milk for Noah to eat overnight. ("He was so little back in July!")
Packed my extra bags so I could pump.
And said goodbye to my favorite tired baby.
The whole drive to work, though, I kept feeling like I was forgetting something. I was fully clothed, I had my badge, my lunch, my water bottle, my pumping stuff, and my purse. Oh but wait. I don't have my BABY. He's only been coming to work with me for the past year!
I missed his post-coffee dance parties. I missed rubbing my belly out of habit as I walked down the hall. It was weird. But it went okay. I think eventually I was too tired to be sad. By the time I got home and went to bed, I'd been up for something like 30 hours and of course, the last full night of sleep I got was 3.5 months ago, so there's that. But we did it. I got lots of sweet, sweet grins from our bald baby when I got home, and Ross survived a night of solo parenting.
Can't ask for more than that!
Monday, August 25, 2014
Dear Noah
Noah,
You're 11 weeks old today. I feel like for the past few weeks I've been thinking of you as "nearly 3 months old" which, when you were 8 weeks old, was just not accurate at all. But now here we are almost actually 12 weeks and then 3 months old, and ugh. Where did time go? The last week we've been easing into a smoother place after a few rough weeks.
I was thinking about the day you were born (actually, at 4:29pm which is when you were born). And I wanted to write. I'm typing this because my journal is in your room and you're sleeping in your room for a few more minutes. This sleeping in your room is a new thing you've done that past few days... one nap a day in the rock and play and I sit out here and watch you on the monitor and simultanously love having two hands, and miss holding you. Where did you take all your naps two weeks ago? How is it that I can't even remember? I'm so glad I dropped everything and just loved on your the past few weeks. There was some frustration initially, as I adjusted my expectations. You're keeping me on my toes. This week it seems like you take a morning nap in the Moby wrap while we walk, your mid-morning/early afternoon nap in the rock and play (used to be that I'd try to sleep with you on me for that nap), and afternoon naps are hit or miss and often involve my "mellow music" playlist, which I'm thoroughly sick of.
Those early weeks I remember walking out to the driveway with you and singing "How Great Thou Art" to get you to calm down. Your dad would come home and read to you on the couch and then you'd pass out on him and I'd have to wake you both for the last feeding of the day. For a long time you ate at 10pm, 2am, and 6am and then whenever you wanted during the day. Things are sliiiightly more predictable now, and I aim to get 7 feedings in, with the last one starting around 10pm. Some nights you wake up at 2 or 3, but more often than not you've been sleeping until 4... and even 5am the last two days! It's amazing the difference a little more unbroken sleep makes... in all of us! You had a pretty rough time from weeks 6-9 figuring how to nap and some days you'd get so exhausted you'd just screamed at night. You'd look at us like, "how are you not fixing this? How do you not know what I'm saying?" And we didn't know. We had no clue. We just knew you were sad and it made us sad that we couldn't make it better.
I just looked through your birth pictures. I'm so glad Vanessa was there to capture that special day! "Special" doesn't even do it justice. It just sounds trite and inadequate. But I look at the pictures of your coming out and crying, and there's one sequence of shots where they are putting you on my chest and you're crying, scrunching your face, and then... relaxed and resting on me. It brings me so much joy and makes my heart want to burst for love for you and your vulnerability and your trust. I'm your only mom and you trust me and that is just above understanding. Babies are so vulnerable! And it breaks my heart knowing that there are other times that the world will be cold and loud and frightening and I won't be there to make it instantly better. Or I will be there, but I won't be enough. This is inevitably a matter of if, not when, and it draws me back to Jesus. The incarnation never seemed so real. Jesus never seemed so vulnerable. To come into the world as a helpless baby!?
These thoughts also draw me to Jesus because I hope with all my heart that you will know that when you can't find comfort at home, and I'm not there to take care of you, Jesus is enough. (Even me "being present" with you isn't enough for my fickle heart). And if he loves his children as much as I love you, then this love is nearly incomprehensible. An all-consuming, I love you, I want what's best for you, I want you to know the answer is right here, right in front of you, even when you can't see it. Even when the options are confusing and the world is overwhelming, the only really important choice is Jesus. He's the ultimate comforter. He's the one who can really dry the tears from your eyes. I want him to be enough for me, and I want him to be enough for you. I love that our relationship gives me a new glimpse of what God's love must be like. The times I have your food right there and you can't calm down enough to find it, the times you're so tired you're freaking out and you just need to breathe and relax, the times you get scared and I'm just one room away but how can you know that? Those are the times I wonder if God is just laughing at me. Because usually the solutions to your problems are so simple and obvious to me. How must I look to God, with all my fumbling, and complaining, and fretting?
Thank you, Noah, for showing me what really matters.
Love,
Mama
You're 11 weeks old today. I feel like for the past few weeks I've been thinking of you as "nearly 3 months old" which, when you were 8 weeks old, was just not accurate at all. But now here we are almost actually 12 weeks and then 3 months old, and ugh. Where did time go? The last week we've been easing into a smoother place after a few rough weeks.
I was thinking about the day you were born (actually, at 4:29pm which is when you were born). And I wanted to write. I'm typing this because my journal is in your room and you're sleeping in your room for a few more minutes. This sleeping in your room is a new thing you've done that past few days... one nap a day in the rock and play and I sit out here and watch you on the monitor and simultanously love having two hands, and miss holding you. Where did you take all your naps two weeks ago? How is it that I can't even remember? I'm so glad I dropped everything and just loved on your the past few weeks. There was some frustration initially, as I adjusted my expectations. You're keeping me on my toes. This week it seems like you take a morning nap in the Moby wrap while we walk, your mid-morning/early afternoon nap in the rock and play (used to be that I'd try to sleep with you on me for that nap), and afternoon naps are hit or miss and often involve my "mellow music" playlist, which I'm thoroughly sick of.
Those early weeks I remember walking out to the driveway with you and singing "How Great Thou Art" to get you to calm down. Your dad would come home and read to you on the couch and then you'd pass out on him and I'd have to wake you both for the last feeding of the day. For a long time you ate at 10pm, 2am, and 6am and then whenever you wanted during the day. Things are sliiiightly more predictable now, and I aim to get 7 feedings in, with the last one starting around 10pm. Some nights you wake up at 2 or 3, but more often than not you've been sleeping until 4... and even 5am the last two days! It's amazing the difference a little more unbroken sleep makes... in all of us! You had a pretty rough time from weeks 6-9 figuring how to nap and some days you'd get so exhausted you'd just screamed at night. You'd look at us like, "how are you not fixing this? How do you not know what I'm saying?" And we didn't know. We had no clue. We just knew you were sad and it made us sad that we couldn't make it better.
I just looked through your birth pictures. I'm so glad Vanessa was there to capture that special day! "Special" doesn't even do it justice. It just sounds trite and inadequate. But I look at the pictures of your coming out and crying, and there's one sequence of shots where they are putting you on my chest and you're crying, scrunching your face, and then... relaxed and resting on me. It brings me so much joy and makes my heart want to burst for love for you and your vulnerability and your trust. I'm your only mom and you trust me and that is just above understanding. Babies are so vulnerable! And it breaks my heart knowing that there are other times that the world will be cold and loud and frightening and I won't be there to make it instantly better. Or I will be there, but I won't be enough. This is inevitably a matter of if, not when, and it draws me back to Jesus. The incarnation never seemed so real. Jesus never seemed so vulnerable. To come into the world as a helpless baby!?
These thoughts also draw me to Jesus because I hope with all my heart that you will know that when you can't find comfort at home, and I'm not there to take care of you, Jesus is enough. (Even me "being present" with you isn't enough for my fickle heart). And if he loves his children as much as I love you, then this love is nearly incomprehensible. An all-consuming, I love you, I want what's best for you, I want you to know the answer is right here, right in front of you, even when you can't see it. Even when the options are confusing and the world is overwhelming, the only really important choice is Jesus. He's the ultimate comforter. He's the one who can really dry the tears from your eyes. I want him to be enough for me, and I want him to be enough for you. I love that our relationship gives me a new glimpse of what God's love must be like. The times I have your food right there and you can't calm down enough to find it, the times you're so tired you're freaking out and you just need to breathe and relax, the times you get scared and I'm just one room away but how can you know that? Those are the times I wonder if God is just laughing at me. Because usually the solutions to your problems are so simple and obvious to me. How must I look to God, with all my fumbling, and complaining, and fretting?
Thank you, Noah, for showing me what really matters.
Love,
Mama
Monday, August 18, 2014
Babies Don't Keep
Mother, oh mother, come shake out your cloth!
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)
Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.
{Ruth Hamilton}
Highlights from August 11-18 when I gave up fighting Noah for sleep and focused on getting him some rest whenever, wherever. That was my only goal each day:
Empty the dustpan, poison the moth,
Hang out the washing and butter the bread,
Sew on a button and make up a bed.
Where is the mother whose house is so shocking?
She's up in the nursery, blissfully rocking!
Oh, I've grown as shiftless as Little Boy Blue
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby, loo).
Dishes are waiting and bills are past due
(Pat-a-cake, darling, and peek, peekaboo).
The shopping's not done and there's nothing for stew
And out in the yard there's a hullabaloo
But I'm playing Kanga and this is my Roo.
Look! Aren't her eyes the most wonderful hue?
(Lullaby, rockaby, lullaby loo.)
Oh, cleaning and scrubbing will wait till tomorrow,
But children grow up, as I've learned to my sorrow.
So quiet down, cobwebs. Dust, go to sleep.
I'm rocking my baby. Babies don't keep.
{Ruth Hamilton}
Highlights from August 11-18 when I gave up fighting Noah for sleep and focused on getting him some rest whenever, wherever. That was my only goal each day:
Wednesday, July 30, 2014
I didn't know it would be so hard
Eight weeks. EIGHT WEEKS. How can this be? Those early days are already fuzzy and yesterday this video made me cry:
About half the day, I feel like this: "What? I don't want him to grow up! Yeah, he's so cute. Oh I love you cute little smiles. OH MY GOSH! I want him to stay little!"
Then there are inevitably a few hours of the day, when Noah is bawling and hasn't slept in hours and he's looking at me like I should know what to do but I don't, when I just doubt everything. I hate myself when I wish away these parts of babyhood because I love my baby. I love the elusive smiles we're starting to get. I love knowing that bresatfeeding is finally going well enough that he's getting rolls on his legs. But then I hate that we just spent our last night in newborn sleepers and newborn-sized diapers.
I love his big blue eyes and his tiny baby fists, knowing that both those things will change at any moment as my infant moves into bigger babyhood. I love his wiggles and his shouts and the thousands of facial expressions he makes, but I hate not knowing what he's actually saying.
This morning, Noah is sleeping wrapped in a Moby wrap on my chest and I'm afraid to move too much or make too much noise, because sleep is a rare and wonderful thing for him.
I just read this beautiful post, and I can't stop reading it. The author's way of putting words to some of my current feelings is so phenomenal-- I want to remember what stands out to me here:
About half the day, I feel like this: "What? I don't want him to grow up! Yeah, he's so cute. Oh I love you cute little smiles. OH MY GOSH! I want him to stay little!"
Then there are inevitably a few hours of the day, when Noah is bawling and hasn't slept in hours and he's looking at me like I should know what to do but I don't, when I just doubt everything. I hate myself when I wish away these parts of babyhood because I love my baby. I love the elusive smiles we're starting to get. I love knowing that bresatfeeding is finally going well enough that he's getting rolls on his legs. But then I hate that we just spent our last night in newborn sleepers and newborn-sized diapers.
I love his big blue eyes and his tiny baby fists, knowing that both those things will change at any moment as my infant moves into bigger babyhood. I love his wiggles and his shouts and the thousands of facial expressions he makes, but I hate not knowing what he's actually saying.
This morning, Noah is sleeping wrapped in a Moby wrap on my chest and I'm afraid to move too much or make too much noise, because sleep is a rare and wonderful thing for him.
"Before I was a parent, I was the perfect one. People told me my life would change. People told me I would be tired. That parenthood would be the greatest and hardest thing I would ever do.
Yeah yeah yeah.
I know. I know.
I knew everything.
...Then in a blink, (he) was here. (He) was tiny and marveling. (He) was so incredibly beautiful. (He) was perfect.
But wait.
I am not ready.
This is so hard.
I am so tired.
Why hadn't anyone prepared me for this?I. Know. Nothing....The love you will feel is nothing like you have felt before. It will be foreign and familiar all at once. It will fill you to the very top of your heart, nearly spilling over. The thing about this kind of love, though, is that it can feel heavy. Disproportional. You may feel like you will nearly break in half from the top-heaviness. You will not be able to tell the difference between exhaustion and depression, and that darkness will rob you from what should be the most tender months of your (son's) new life.Your baby will cry, a lot. Your days will both begin and end with the saddest screams you will ever hear. Your body will respond the way that it is programmed to - with panic....This love will crush your ego. It will destroy your capability to trust yourself. The fear that creeps in the shadows of this love will paralyze you... You will feel guilty for not measuring up. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty. You will feel guilty for feeling guilty for feeling guilty. You will cry over absurd things, like not being pregnant anymore... You may never feel like you will get the hang of carrying this love."
That's exactly where I am. I want to love every minute of the newborn stage because I know it's fleeting. But I don't love thrush. And it's hard to hang out with an overtired baby who's refusing to take a nap. And I never thought I would doubt everything like I do. When I was pregnant, I joked that I don't know what to do with a toddler but hey, I can keep a baby alive.
I never knew that I'd question his eating and sleeping so much. That I'd wonder if I was too boring alone in a quiet house with him. That when I stopped setting an alarm at night for him to eat, I'd spend the night waking up every few hours anyway to make sure he was still breathing and wasn't crying and eventually I'd wake him up to eat anyway, ruining what may very well have been his first night to sleep through the night (that was last night).
I never knew that I'd question his eating and sleeping so much. That I'd wonder if I was too boring alone in a quiet house with him. That when I stopped setting an alarm at night for him to eat, I'd spend the night waking up every few hours anyway to make sure he was still breathing and wasn't crying and eventually I'd wake him up to eat anyway, ruining what may very well have been his first night to sleep through the night (that was last night).
I thought I'd relish holding him all day and didn't realize that it would be excruciating on my upper back. I didn't realize that sometimes I'd have to decide between being using my hands to prepare food for lunch, or having a quiet baby.
I didn't realize that I'd love him so much it would scare me and make me doubt everything I did.
I got that breath of air at 6 weeks just long enough to gather strength to go back under. I didn't know it would be this hard.
But I do know that I love him fiercely and it's an honor to be his mom.
But I do know that I love him fiercely and it's an honor to be his mom.
Friday, July 18, 2014
Jesus is Better
I have a problem. I want my baby to remain tiny, while I'm simultaneously doing everything I can to overcome his poor initial weight gain. Today he weighed 8 pounds and 14 ounces which is awesome! Up a whopping 12 ounces in 12 days! But also, sad. His newborn-sized clothes are getting pretty snug, as are his newborn diapers. His Shar Pei-esque elbows and knees are filling out and he even has the tiniest of rolls on his legs and arms. He is precious and wonderful and I am filled with pride and also an inordinate amount of sorrow as he grows.
Like, it's an actual problem. I shouldn't be this sad.
I am accustomed to working with babies in their first 28 days of life. Plenty of NICU babies stay longer than that, but since they were so early and/or so sick, most of them still leave acting like a newborn. I was nervous that I would like my baby less as he got older and bigger. Thankfully, that has not been the case, and it's so fun to watch his coordination develop and see recognition in his eyes. (Do you ever think... how weird would it be to not be able to just reach out and grab something? To have your arms and legs move around but not have control over them? So crazy! Babies have to learn so much.)
The passage of time is something that's always been hard for me to deal with for some reason, and what better than babies as an example of an accelerated version of time passing?! People tell me, "it goes too fast!" "You'll blink and he'll be this age (gesturing to whatever sized toddler they're walking around with)." And my least favorite, "Enjoy every moment before it's gone!"
Rather than helping me enjoy this time, these comments give rise to anxiety and nameless fears of missing out as time passes me by. I still haven't been able to address the root of this issue, but when I brought it up to a friend, she had such wise words:
"The truth is, we think that either 'being in the moment' and 'staying present' or the opposite, 'if it could only be like ___ in the next stage,' will satisfy us. And the truth is, we're all insatiable. We all want more of whatever we don't have. It's an interesting thing in motherhood to rest in Christ and be grateful for whatever God has handed us this day. All our expectations fly out the window. Otherwise we're left disappointed and wanting."
She is a wise, wise friend.
We've sung this song a few times at church, and the refrain "Jesus is better" keeps running through my head every time I find myself mourning something silly. Jesus is better than squishy cheeks and sleepy newborns and I simply have to believe that.
If you need me, I'll be bunkered in, listening to this song on repeat while I snuggle my baby.
Like, it's an actual problem. I shouldn't be this sad.
I am accustomed to working with babies in their first 28 days of life. Plenty of NICU babies stay longer than that, but since they were so early and/or so sick, most of them still leave acting like a newborn. I was nervous that I would like my baby less as he got older and bigger. Thankfully, that has not been the case, and it's so fun to watch his coordination develop and see recognition in his eyes. (Do you ever think... how weird would it be to not be able to just reach out and grab something? To have your arms and legs move around but not have control over them? So crazy! Babies have to learn so much.)
The passage of time is something that's always been hard for me to deal with for some reason, and what better than babies as an example of an accelerated version of time passing?! People tell me, "it goes too fast!" "You'll blink and he'll be this age (gesturing to whatever sized toddler they're walking around with)." And my least favorite, "Enjoy every moment before it's gone!"
Rather than helping me enjoy this time, these comments give rise to anxiety and nameless fears of missing out as time passes me by. I still haven't been able to address the root of this issue, but when I brought it up to a friend, she had such wise words:
"The truth is, we think that either 'being in the moment' and 'staying present' or the opposite, 'if it could only be like ___ in the next stage,' will satisfy us. And the truth is, we're all insatiable. We all want more of whatever we don't have. It's an interesting thing in motherhood to rest in Christ and be grateful for whatever God has handed us this day. All our expectations fly out the window. Otherwise we're left disappointed and wanting."
She is a wise, wise friend.
We've sung this song a few times at church, and the refrain "Jesus is better" keeps running through my head every time I find myself mourning something silly. Jesus is better than squishy cheeks and sleepy newborns and I simply have to believe that.
If you need me, I'll be bunkered in, listening to this song on repeat while I snuggle my baby.
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