Tag: baby

To the mom of three

Dear mom at Wegmans,

This isn’t another letter saying, “I see you” or “you’re not alone”. Lord knows we have enough of those floating around. Instead, this is a letter to say, “thank you”, because I didn’t have the guts. Because this time, the “I see you” sentiment is because you gave me hope.

You see, I had a day today that I don’t often get, nor imagine I will often get. A day to “myself”. Of course, my 7 week old was with me…but I still consider him an attachment 😉  But nonetheless, the girls were at the sitter’s for the day, then headed to their Gigi and Papa’s, and I experienced some quiet time for reflection and peace. Do you know what happens in those times? God speaks to me…and He strengthens me. Every. Single. Time. Fortunately, today, I was listening (other days, I can’t say that with quite such confidence).

God first got my attention as I took a break from our walk to feed the puffin. As I sat on the rock, staring out over the river in front of me, I heard and mom and 3 young children come over to the same space to sit. In the past I might have become annoyed, and these thoughts began to enter my mind…”She’s a mom, doesn’t she understand the need for solitude?” “Seriously, my own kids are talking and screaming and yelling…it had to be somebody’s…” “Did they really have to stop where I’m sitting, of all places?”. But on this day, I was feeling particularly relaxed, and as I observed my thoughts, I actually smiled as I realized, I need to learn to be peaceful WITHIN the chaos – I won’t always have the opportunity to separate myself from it (though, as a strong introvert, I have also learned that I need occasional times away to reboot).

As I resumed our walk, I began to think. I hadn’t yet taken all three kids out by myself, mostly for fear of our precious cupcake, our middle daughter. What would she do if I needed to stop to feed the baby? Or if she dropped on her bottom in the middle of the street in an early toddler tantrum? But for the first time, I began to have the desire to be active with them outside the home; to go on adventures, even if if my husband was working; to explore and have fun and make the most of my leave. It’s amazing the freedom your mind has when it’s not being inundated with questions from my curious preschooler, such as, “why is she riding a horse?” “why did her mom let her go into the trees by herself?” “why is a rock hard?” or the 20minutes meltdowns of my smart, independent, toddler. I love them both to death, but if I want to write, I need just a moment to myself. <3

Dear, fellow grocery shopper, here is where you come in. I noticed you initially because I liked your top, and was about to compliment you on it. But when I looked closer, I stopped in my trackers. Here you were, with the same kids as me. Two girls who looked perhaps 5 and 3, and a little boy in the front of the cart – perhaps approaching a year old. As I watched you walk calmly with your children, put together but not overly primped, talking sweetly with your girls about snacks to pick out for a picnic you were planning, my heart felt a sense of relief. You see, my heart has been feeling overwhelmed, burdened, heavy, stressed, worried, isolated – and even though we all logically know that things change, things get better/easier/fillintheblank, I don’t know that we all believe it to be true when it really comes down to it. It’s much harder to feel a sense of peace and hope in your heart than it is to rationalize one.

As I continued to shop, I saw you a couple of more times, and each time I tried to work up the courage to thank you. But each time, I flushed and hesitated with embarrassment, slowing my step as if you might know what I was thinking if our eyes connected, wondering how completely insane I might sound if the words ever formed.

So here it is. My thank you. Thank you for showing me a light at the end of the tunnel. Thank you for providing me hope that the swirl that life is right now won’t always be. Thank you for being God’s third sign (He works in three’s with me…seems to be the number of times I need to hear something to get it 😉 ). Thank you for just being you, walking through a grocery store with your tag sticking out, debating over the type of granola bar your kids would enjoy, reminding me not only that “this too shall pass”, but to take each moment as it comes, being present with and enjoying my children no matter the experience.

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Letter to a First-time Mom

Dear first-time mom,

As I sit here, cradling my third – and last – baby, my heart fills with emotion. I am taken back to the time when I held my first newborn. I remember the anxiety as I left the hospital, a new mom let loose in the world with this new life, this bundle of beauty that I was now given the responsibility to care for. And I remember the questions and the fears that filled my mind – What happens if she gets sick? How will I know what to do? They’re really trusting me to keep this thing alive???

The next few months were filled with hazy moments and blurred days from the sleep deprivation that only a new mother understands. The anxiety and hormones came in waves, and there were moments I wished it away. Not the child – never the child – but the lack of sleep. The continuous nursing (every hour and a half for approx. 45 minutes… each… you do the math). The emotional meltdowns. I remember all too vividly a night that my precious husband was on night shift, and I was sitting on the bed in her nursery, crying, willing her to sleep at that all too familiar time of 3am – the time she believed would be her bedtime. I had been nursing her almost constantly since about 11pm, and had laid her in her crib asleep about 4 times at this point – only to have her wake again and searching for comfort. I cried, desperate for sleep, desperate to be able to sit her down, desperate for comfort myself.

Then I was taken to another time – on vacation, when my bundle was only 2 months old. Still desperate for sleep (my precious firstborn would not sleep for four consecutive hours until after around 9 months of age, and not longer than that until well after she turned a year), I melted in a puddle of tears because I felt isolated. Feeding her and putting her to sleep could easily be an all day event. If you’ve ever had a comfort nurser who also could be pictured by the definition of “cluster-feeding”, you’ve felt my pain. Nursing a cluster, comfort feeder can be exhausting, overwhelming, isolating, and extremely lonely.

But mama, I don’t say all of this to scare you. I don’t say it to make you nervous or to tell you not to breastfeed or to even warn you of the hormones. Dear mama of your firstborn, the reason I share all of my information is this: I already miss it. 11 days ago, we brought home our third child (first boy) to a home with two toddlers. Female toddlers, mind you. I knew it’d be difficult. I knew there would be challenges. I anticipated having moments of just wanting to hold him but needing to rise to the needs and responsibilities that having an almost-4 and 2 year old require. But I never imagined that the moments I would struggle with most would be the first “lasts”. As I carry around my precious newborn, I’m quickly taken back to those moments with my first, wishing I’d had a different perspective. Wishing I hadn’t felt guilty those days she wouldn’t let me put her down and we spent the day snuggling. Wishing I had slept when she did in the daytime so I didn’t feel resentful during the multiple times we awoke at night. Wishing I’d had taken it all in just a little bit more, breathed her in, thanked God that I had the ability to feed her and love her and hold her. Of course, I did these things. But I wish I had done it MORE.

There’s a drastic feeling of reality that hits you when you realize you’re holding your last. You want to be present for every moment: every doctor’s appointment, every ultrasound, every heartbeat, every kick and turn, every cry, every feeding, every snuggle, every “first meeting” – All. Of. It.

So my urge to you, pregnant and current mamas with your first – do these things NOW. Do them with your first. Soak it in. Write it down (ok…I did this…but it didn’t cover it). You’ll want to remember – you’ll try hard to hold on – but your sleep-deprived brain will only hold on to some. Record it in writing, in video, through FB – however you document – and just soak it in. Don’t feel guilty if there are days you do nothing other than snuggle your baby, breathe in their sweet smell, and spend all day just taking in those moments. There will be days you’ll have plenty of time for showers and meal prepping and deep cleaning the bathroom.

But for today, just soak it up. You’re doing exactly what you are meant to do.

blake