Pregnancy came and I was ecstatic to finally see that bright positive. We had tried getting pregnant for 10 months. I was worried sick about not being able to get pregnant. It consumed my life. I would have been devastated if I had found out I would never conceive my own baby. I loved the 10 months leading up to seeing my very own baby. I did everything I could to prepare and read every book. Most books I had already read before even getting married. I knew I was ready. I thought I was being pretty realistic about my expectations I knew it would be hard but I also knew it would be rewarding too. That's what everyone says right?
The birth finally came and I had a fairly easy 3 1/2 hour labor. Not as hard or painful as I thought it would be. It was still something I had to process after. It was still scary and yes I tore 3 times trying to push her out. Her heart rate had dropped toward the end of pushing and I had less than a minute to push her out the rest of the way. It hurt. It hurt for months after. My hormones were all over the place and every fiber of my being was focused on that tiny little baby. It consumed my every thought and emotion. Breast feeding nearly pushed me over the edge. I fought my hardest to continue to breast feed. The thought of having to quit and formula feed would rip my heart out. I wanted what every mother had talked to me about. Those special moments of relaxing and bonding with your baby. Knowing you were feeding them the best you could. It was my responsibility right?
I spent 6 weeks crying in frustration every time she would pull off and scream. I didn't know what was wrong. Everyone told me it was colic, allergies, emotional crap, ear infection on and on and on. Everyone seemed to have the answer for me but nothing worked. I couldn't leave the house in fear she would start screaming in hunger only to latch on for a few seconds and pull off screaming and thrashing her head in frustration. It felt like a rejection. I felt like a failure and the hardest part was not knowing why. Why did she want nothing to do with the breast. I was so scared she wasn't getting enough and loosing weight. I finally saw a lactation specialist and she thought it was a forceful let down. Most babies deal with it but Pants didn't want anything to do with it. She finally started rejecting the right breast altogether. My milk started deteriorating and drying up. I WAS NOT GOING TO GIVE UP!!
I finally hit 6 weeks and was so emotionally exhausted that after the 100th or something time of trying to feed her and getting the same screaming thrashing response, I threw her at Chris and yelled " I can't do this anymore" I ran out of the house and started driving. I don't know where but I needed to get out of there.
The last 6 weeks had been filled with late nights of crying, trying to get Pants to eat, trying to get her to sleep, only to have her scream at us and nothing would sooth her. Every night we had stayed up till 2 sometimes 4 driving her around until she had cried herself to sleep. When we were supposed to be dreamily looking down at our peaceful angel sleeping, we had a screaming pissed off monster of a baby. When most babies slept all day, she was wide awake wanting to be held non stop, when we were supposed to sit on a rocking chair nursing and bonding together, I had a thrashing baby screaming and going bright red and blue in the face. This was anyhting bit those beautiful pictures I had grown up seeing. The hubbs and I were miserable and Pants was miserable. I just kept telling myself it could be worse.
We finally got to 6 weeks and my milk evened out. Pants went from never wanting to nurse to nursing all day and night long. She finally started to sleep through most of the night. I finally felt like that peaceful angel of a baby I had been told about, seen on peoples blogs, in stories and pictures was finally happening. I started to love being a mom.
It was short lived. She hit 3 months and the sleeping through the night became every hour waking to nurse. I finally gave up sleep alltogther because I knew I would just have to wake in 45 min. The house slowly started to look cluttered as I started to struggle to even get the minimum house duties done. Our small 1 bedroom apartment looked like a bomb had gone off in it. I started to hate washing dishes and doing laundry. It felt like that's all I did all day. Samantha never wanted to be put down and I had to try performing these tasks with one arm. Needless to say, I spent most of my days stuck in a recliner, boob out and baby latched on. That recliner became my best friend very quickly.
The Hubbs was taking 16 credits, working full time and had the only car. I was stuck at home 24/7 and being a single parent. The Hubbs would come home late and then it was homework until 1 in the morning. Our sex life was non existent and we were more like room mates than a couple. Any extra energy and time was spent passing the baby back and forth so the other could have a short break. We were both stretched to our breaking point.
Summer came and summer school started. What we thought might be a break, turned out to be the same story. Nights were filled with waking for feedings every 1-2 hours, days were filled with juggling a fussy baby to hurrying and doing house hold chores between fussy tantrums. The only break during the week is Sunday and were too exhausted to do anything. A vacation for me is getting out of the house ,when I have a car, and going grocery shopping.
Pants is a very social baby. She needs more room to explore and she wants to touch/taste everything. The tiny one bedroom apartment is filled to the max. There is no extra room for toys and has no way of being baby proofed. My day is filled with pulling things out of her mouth, pulling her out from under the TV and computer, making sure she's not pulling anything down on top of her and basically policing her all day. She does not appreciate that at all. She fusses NON STOP ALL DAY LONG. The poor girl has no where to go and nothing to play with.
I am constantly wondering how much more can I take before I am either hauled off to an inane asylum, run form this place screaming and never turn back, or just explode like a bomb. Our marriage has never been under so much stress and I wonder if we'll make it. The Hubbs and I have no time to ourselves and Pants is a very needy baby. She wants to be held all the time. I don't know what to do. I need space. I need my marriage back.
All those pictures of happy babies with happy parents lied. I thought I knew what I was getting into. I thought I was being realistic. I knew it would be hard. No one ever told me the real truth. No one told me what having a baby could do to your marriage. What it would do to your freedom. What it would do to your sanity. Maybe some women are natural born mothers. I'm not. I look at women with careers and I envy them. Oh what it would be like to have a life and identity other than human pacifier. What it would be like to actually see and talk to other human beings, to see other adults. I look at women who go where they please and do what they want when they want and I want to go with them.
A baby requires every ounce of energy you have. You up the need when you nurse. You cannot go anywhere without them. Pants wouldn't take a bottle so everywhere I went, she went. I'm glad I did it and I would never do anything but breast feed but be aware, you are going to be attached at the hip to that baby for the first few months and depending on the baby, even longer. You may not get sleep for months, maybe even a year. I went from the last trimester till this week with no sleep. That's almost a year.
I guess what I'm trying to say is that being a mother is the hardest most difficult job out there. Not every person is a natural at it. I think most aren't. I'm just going to be honest and say there have been days I wanted to run away. I wondered if I was sane some days. I regretted ever thinking of having a baby. I felt selfish for these thoughts. I felt totally alone. Everyone around me seemed like these perfect mothers with their perfect clean homes, their perfect clothes, skinny bodies, perfect hair and makeup, and their babies are all dolled up and perfect little angels. Some how they find the time for their husbands and complete all the little crafty cutesy stuff on the side. Well I'm here to tell you they are either a super human or they hide the truth really well. I tend to hope it's the later.
So any time you feel like you are the only one contemplating running your husband over with a car, telling God he made a mistake and forgot the angel button on your baby, thinking of buying more pajamas because you wore out the last 15 you owned, don't feel bad. Your not alone. I've been there, I am there and I am doing my best. That's all you can do. Being a mother is hard work and anyone that says differently, does not have children or should be banished and placed on a planet far far away. They can live with the likes of Gwyneth Paltrow and Gisele Bundchen with their super potty trained 6 month olds, vegetarian/ eco life styles, and high standards no mortal human can live up to. That way we immortals don't have to see their shining perfectionism. That or I'll just go wear my faded pajamas and eat another gallon of ice cream with a side of of Prozac and a sprinkle of Ambien on top.
Our little stinker. What she puts us through during the day, she makes up for in cuteness.
