Daycare Nightmare

I will soon be a working mommy.  I was fortunate enough to have a nice, long stay at home with my baby, but in a few months, I’ll be jumping on the bandwagon of working-mother guilt and neuroses.  Would I like to be a stay-at-home mom?  Absolutely!  And spare me the argument that if we just modified our lifestyle enough, our family could live on one income.  We can’t.  I’ve turned it over in my mind at least a thousand different ways, and the truth remains glaringly obvious: I have to go back to work.  Ah, reality.

Which means I am looking for daycare.

For those of you who’ve been down this road, you may immediately understand the nightmare involved in finding good care.  First and foremost, for the premiere establishments (for group or even home care), you must place your child on waiting lists even before they are born.  I placed my baby on lists before we even knew her gender!  And of all those listings, around eight, we received placement in ONE.  One! 

So I visited this particular place of care again this week, and guess what?  I hated it. 

There wasn’t anything obviously awry or even slightly askew.  Its just that, in watching the employees interact with the children, it was obvious to me that my Stinkbug is not going to get the kind of attention she needs in their setting.  She receives lots of attention and touch and snuggles at home with mama and daddy, and to place her in one of these institutions with eight babies smushed all together in one little room just isn’t going to fly, for her or for me.  She will be lost, and we will have nothing to show for it but a cranky baby.  No way, no how.

So a friend commandeered an undisclosed opening for us with one of the most sought-after home care providers.  I met her, loved her instantly, and breathed a sigh of relief.  Problem solved.  Two days later, that daycare goddess called to tell me her daughter just learned she is pregnant, and the daycare opening will go to the unborn grandchild.

So the search continues.  And you realize, since my daughter has now been born by now, I am behind the power curve.  She is competing with embryos for quality care.   How twisted is that!?   I have sounded the call and summoned the troops, and we are currently busy canvassing the community for options, but it shouldn’t have to be this way.

And like this post, I suppose my situation will have to come to a satisfying conclusion some other point in time.  For now, all I can say is, grrrrrr…..  Please think good thoughts for us!

Hello? Anyone There? Anyone At All?

Notice the (new) icon on my sidebar… Mom’s Great Escape is sponsoring a Blog It Forward! movement for blogs of an inspirational nature, so that we may all find each other in the big, wide world.  I think its an awesome idea, so I signed up, but there’s just one tiny little problem…

I have absolutely no idea if anything I say means anything to anyone. 

I just summoned the courage to begin blogging.  It was an idea that nagged me for months, especially in the first days of watching my daughter grow, but I really felt that no one would care or identify with anything I had to say.  I figured that all moms have their stories- why would anyone want to read mine?  Then, as I endured a rough patch in nursing with my baby, I began to jump into reading some new blogs that, ironically, instantly felt like old friends.  I  felt better about my situation, and knowing that my experience wasn’t all that unique.  Those blogs remain important friends (see them listed on my sidebar…) that I check in on daily, as they continue to inspire and motivate me.

Then it hit me- if those blogs and stories were like me, might I also be able to speak to others through writing?  Shouldn’t we all be able to lean on each other for guidance, inspiration, or just an, “Oh, I remember feeling exactly the same way!”?  That’s why I like the Blog It  Forward idea so much.

So despite the fact that I have absolutely no readership, I will continue posting my thoughts just in case someone stumbles across it at exactly the moment they need some sort of an aha! in their life.  I don’t need tons of subscribed readers or lots of traffic- just the opportunity to make a difference to someone the ways those bloggers made a difference to me.  After all, that’s what blogging it forward is all about.

Peter-Pan Syndrome, Mama-Style

My little angel turned 100 days old last week, and I’ve been suffering from not wanting her to grow up.  She’s already so different from the little creature I brought home from the hospital: she looks different, sounds different- just about everything has changed.  Things are going way too fast.

It actually started while she was in the womb.  Everyone would rub my belly and laugh, saying, “You’re getting huge!  I’ll bet you’re ready for that baby to be born!”  I would giggle back, but all the time I lamented the fact that she would eventually have to be born.  I felt she was safe inside me, and although I knew it would be wonderful seeing the beautiful person who’d shared my body those nine/ten months, she wouldn’t be all mine anymore.  I’d have to share her with the world, and I just wasn’t sure I was ready for that.

Fast-forward to her beautiful birth day- I was so excited to see my angel!  My fears of her being in the world were gone and I was so proud for my loved ones to see my daughter.   She was more than I ever imagined, and for a while, I was caught up in the whirlwind of learning to be a mommy, learning to breastfeed, learning to exist on little sleep… all those things everyone goes through.  I became drunk with love for this little person, doing all I could to ensure her comfort and happiness.  I jumped into motherhood with both feet and never looked back.

Those old feelings, though, have begun to creep back in.

Don’t get me wrong… I don’t want her back in my belly!  And I’m not one of those overprotective moms who tries to shield their child from every little mishap, at least not so far.  I know her life will have ups and downs, just as her father’s life and my life have cycled.  That’s OK.  I can deal with that.  This is not a need to lock her away from everyone and everything.

The issue is with time.  I’m never going to get this time back, and I know it.  And no matter how many photographs or movies I make of these days, they will never compare to the actual moments of nursing her to sleep, seeing her smile as she wakes, or hearing her squeals as she plays.  I am enjoying every moment, and I love being her mommy even more than I imagined possible, but somewhere in the back of my mind remains the bittersweet reminder that she will continue to grow up.  Those little hands which were once so helpless can now grasp toys and mama’s fingers; one day I will look up and those same hands will be writing her name or playing the piano. 

I am told that motherhood only gets better as a child grows, as they are able to better interact, become mobile, and- dare I say it- even walk and talk.  Despite all my misgivings about how quickly she is becoming her own person, I also cannot wait to see the woman she will become.  I know she will be an intelligent, giving, and gracious woman.  I guess I must approach motherhood as I used to approach running my marathons: although there won’t be any real finish line line to mothering, I must keep my eye on the prize in seeing the wonderful little person that came from my humble little body grow to light up the world.

But on the way, I want plenty of time to drink in every sweet second.

What They Never Tell You, Part III: Real-World Nursing Vs. The Dream

I spent hours trying to create the perfect nursery for my baby, and once finished, one of my favorite areas was the corner with the rocking chair, end table and a lamp with a dimmer switch.  There, I figured, I would faithfully nurse my angel to sleep whenever she required it, perhaps dozing off in my arms as I dimmed the light for her pleasant nap.

When she was finally home with us, I happily nursed her in our cozy corner.  It felt so sweet and surreal. Fast-forward a few weeks, however, and it wasn’t so wonderful anymore.  I began to feel trapped, like a caged animal, confined to the rocking chair for hours each day.  While visitors and family bantered and laughed, I was sequestered in the nursery, away from all the fun.

I thought that making nursing a special time was required of me.  After all, I’d heard over and over again how breastfeeding promotes bonding between mother and child, and I figured an act so sacred deserved reverence.  One night, I told my husband I’d like to have some books or a tv in the nursery, then broke down and cried because I felt I wasn’t taking my job as seriously as I should.  What kind of mother was I if I couldn’t devote undivided attention to my daughter?

Fortunately, about that time, I stumbled across a blog post somewhere with women listing things they typically do while nursing their babies.  (I wish I could remember where I found the post: if anyone is familiar with it, I’d be obliged.)  It was like a weight had been lifted from my shoulders!  I could be a nursing mom and still have a life! It was so wonderful not to feel so alone in my thoughts and fears.

These days,  I’ll nurse any time and pretty much anywhere.  I even nursed Stinkbug in her wrap the other day as I was unloading groceries from the car.  She seemed completely unfazed by the fact that we weren’t cozied up somewhere to nurse: in fact, she seemed to think it was great fun.  And as a bonus, I was able to put the ice cream in the freezer before it melted.  I guess that’s the trick to being a good mother: trying to balance your needs with the needs of your child; trying to carve out special and sacred times for your relationship with your baby while still attending to your own needs and those of your family.  I can now do things and be out in the world while successfully breastfeeding, but I still relish those times my baby and I can get away from everyone and everything for some mother-daughter time.  Does anyone ever feel they find the perfect balance?

Fear of a Fluttering Eyelid

My little Stinkbug is a hands-on baby.  She must travel, nap, sleep, eat, and idle in someone’s arms at all times.  At all times.  In her first few days of life outside the womb, I enjoyed this intense togetherness, sitting and gazing at her sweet little face as she slept in my lap, just imagining what she might become.  I sat for hours like that, relishing the moments her eyes opened to let me know she was ready to nurse, then watching her drift back into sleep with a full belly, and, I was sure, a happy heart.

Reality soon set in, however, as we began having difficulties in breastfeeding and those little eyes began striking chords of fear in my heart.

 Wait- is she waking up?  Was that–  no, just a false alarm.  Oh, damn, she really is waking up.  Crap.  Now we have to nurse again.  Please, baby, go back to sleep…  Just give me a few more minutes to prepare myself…

I never knew how terrifying the flutter of a tiny little eyelid could be, and I felt terrible for these types of thoughts.  We’d endured a very brief stay in NICU when she was born, and as a result, I’d often think of the parents with infants in intensive care for extended periods of time, unable to hold them at home all day long like I did.  I felt a deep embarrassment and shame for worrying about something as silly as my healthy child waking up from a nap in light of others’ circumstances.  I felt like a terrible mother.

Looking back, I think it was a touch of the “baby blues”.  I never mentioned these feelings to anyone, as I felt so awful about them and didn’t want to face the fact that I might be developing full-blown postpartum depression.  (And why did I hide it?  Nothing’s wrong with those who experience PPD- you can’t do anything to stop it.  I just wasn’t thinking clearly.)

With help, Stinkbug and I finally got the hang of nursing, and since entering the “Reward Period” of our breastfeeding relationship (ours began at week nine), I no longer dread seeing her little eyes open.  In fact, I blog while she sleeps, just to pass the time and boredom until she wakes again.  I am so excited when my little playmate awakens!

What They Never Tell You, Part II: Hype Leads to the Ultimate Letdown

Melodie at Breastfeeding Moms Unite  published a wonderful post yesterday on her initial misconceptions regarding breastfeeding. Funny, that’s #2 on my list of What They Never Tell You About Becoming “Mommy”.  Here’s my take:

Breastfeeding must be marketed (for lack of a better word) to sound rewarding, easy, healthy and satisfying. If it isn’t, most people, especially the uninformed, wouldn’t give it a second thought. Breastfeeding can indeed be all of those things once you get going. In the meantime, though, it can be a struggle. And the problem is- few people tell you about the struggles, and (personal opinion approaching…) most people expect everything in life to be instant or easy. If it isn’t, they move on.

Has the practice of breastfeeding, in fact, been harmed by hype and “marketing”? In trying to influence women to breastfeed their children, have the virtues been so extolled to an instant nirvana that individuals are misled and disappointed? There are many awesome resources out there where mothers who wish to breastfeed can learn about the possible trials and hardships in getting started- the reality of breastfeeding- but the majority of new mothers that I know claim they don’t have the time to get that in-depth or involved. They all seem to share the same mantra: “Well, I’ll try it, and if it doesn’t work out, I’ll put the baby on a bottle.”

For instance, new mothers are told that it is best for the baby to be placed on the mother’s chest immediately after the birth, if possible, to promote bonding, and so on and so forth… And further, we are told that, if held to the chest long enough, the baby will begin to root and wiggle down to the breast for an initial nursing. Instinct. Sounds easy, right? The simplest and most natural thing in the world. I’d wager that most women do not have it this easy. Furthermore, it was my experience that once my baby was a few days old and past the post-birth lethargy, nursing became considerably more difficult. Timed, coincidentally, with my discharge from the hospital where I no longer had lactation consultants on hand for immediate assistance.

Ladies, hear me: boobs + baby ≠ instant satisfaction for either party.

Here’s what I think new mothers should know beyond the health benefits, economic benefits, bonding, etc., etc., that is recited to death in every childbirth education class.  None of it is earth-shattering, but it is all needed information.

1. Breastfeeding is usually difficult to begin. Although it is what nature intended, it typically does not feel like a natural action until both you and the baby get the hang of it.

2. You may experience “discomfort”, as you were told, or it may simply hurt like hell. It won’t last forever. With the appropriate support, you will be able to nurse without pain. (I cursed out loud for a week- wasn’t proud of it, but I stuck with nursing anyway.) Find the support you need from your hospital, independent lactation consultants, and/or friends who are experienced nursing mothers. Once you discover and correct the reason for your discomfort, it will go away. 

3. Trying to establish breastfeeding with your child will feel like it takes forever. It will happen if you stick with it.

4. You may not feel calmed, relaxed or even orgasmic as you have been told. Those feelings may come later; or they may not.  It won’t really matter, anyway.

5. You might feel downright conspicuous as you just contemplate breastfeeding in public. However, these feelings will probably go away once you are well-established in breastfeeding, and you will be ready to demonstrate a beautiful relationship between you and your baby. Hardly anyone will give you a second glance, anyway.

6. It is THE MOST REWARDING experience you can imagine, especially if you persevered through hardship to get there. Speaking from personal experience, it’s like running a marathon: torture at times, but you can’t imagine anything better when you cross the finish line!

What They Never Tell You About Becoming “Mommy”

I’ll get my thoughts off the ground and running in a series of posts which inspired the whole idea of blogging in the first place: What They Never Tell You About Becoming “Mommy”.  You get the pink + on the pregnancy test and everyone cheers and begins buying blankets and booties for your little miracle, you begin planning a nursery, and everyone wants to know if you will breastfeed or bottle-feed… However, in the deep, dark underworld ruled by the Mommies Who Know, an elite group of been-there, done-that sages know the realities and real issues of new-parenthood but are prevented from revealing the truth: perhaps it is political correctness, a decision not to scare you since there’s no turning back anyway, or just well-placed mental blocks designed to shield themselves in case they decide to procreate again.   Whatever the reason, this information isn’t generally shared, and even The Girlfriend’s Guide ain’t gonna get you where you need to be.  So although you think you only want to hear the warm fuzzies as you are battling relentless nausea and repeatedly assuring everyone that it’s NOT triplets, trust me- the truth isn’t much better received in light of severe sleep deprivation and new-mommy paranoia.  Don’t get me wrong: motherhood is glorious, exhilarating, and the most wonderful gift in all the world, but the transition can be difficult, especially when you’re saddled with all sorts of preconceived notions.

Am I an experienced mommy?  Hardly.  I’m a first-time (read: stupid) mother of three whole months.  However, I am blogging through my transition to Mommy Who Knows before I, like so many, forget the issues entirely.  (Count the number of times AFTER you experience a new baby circumstance when another mom says, “Oh, I INTENDED to tell you…”)  Join me on my journey of discovery, insanity and all the strange (and loud!) noises I never knew a baby could make, as we descend into the depths of mommyhood and eventually become Mommies Who Know ourselves.

What They Never Tell You, Part I: Blooming for All to See

I always got a kick out of the word “embarrassed”, as it brought to mind the term bare-@ssed.  These days, we have a new word at our house: embar-breast.

You see, after an extremely difficult struggle to breastfeed (more about that in another post), I finally joined the ranks of breastfeeding mothers.  And in my new-mom stupor, it appears that I have been spotted many times walking around with either my sexy utilitarian nursing bra or even one hemisphere of my bare bosom exposed in all its glory, oblivious to the fact that I provide a free peep-show to anyone nearby. 

Besides sleep-deprivation and a pervading sense of “Holy crap?!?!”, the bulk of my problem can be attributed to my wardrobe.  I can’t stand nursing tops, at least those I own/can afford.  And I hate pulling my shirt up, as I feel as though I’m wearing a winter scarf while my little Stinkbug nurses.  So I wear my collection of camisole-style tank tops, pulling them down at the neckline to allow for nursing access.  This works fabulously until, as I mentioned, I become a walking National Geographic exhibit.

Until now, my faux pas were limited to my home (giving hubby a few cheap thrills), but today I officially went public.  After browsing through Babies R Us for thirty minutes or so, I began chatting with another mother when asked about the wrap I wear my Stinkbug in when out on the town.  When I looked down, though, I realized that she hadn’t asked about my baby-wearing out of curiosity.  Instead, she was politely notifying me that my “mama bloom” was announcing itself to all passers-by, covered precariously by the nursing bra which, although in place, remained completely unfastened and dangerously askew.

I never knew motherhood would turn a once-modest, prim Southern lady into an exhibitionist, but I’ve morphed so effortlessly, I know it was meant to be.  Don’t fool yourselves, ladies: this will be you in some form or fashion if it isn’t already.  The upside is, at least everyone in the free world won’t ask the hated-by-all-new-moms-to-the-depths-of-their-souls question: “Well, is he/she sleeping through the night yet?”   Because your exposed torso (poop in your hair/vomit on your shoulder/whatever it may be) pretty much tells them everything they need to know.