The Stuff of Parenthood: The Hardest Part

Already posted on the best part of being a mom. So what was the hardest part of having a newborn? The sleep deprivation? The 3 A.M. feedings? The cry-fest between the hours of 5:00 and 9:00 P.M.? The transformation of your old way of life? For me, it was all of these things. But, again, it's really the bigger picture represented by those things. For me, it was the "loss of control."
I think of it this way. When I was working, was I any less stressed? Absolutely not. What's more, did I have any more free time? Nope, definitely had less. But the thing is, what time I had was MY free time; even if I only had an hour of it, I could count on at least that solid, uninterrupted hour to do, well, whatever I wanted. Enter baby. Baby goes down for a nap. I should have a couple hours of free time, right? But then, with baby in the picture now, nothing is guaranteed. Baby could wake up screaming -needing me- in 60 minutes, 30 minutes, 10 minutes. You just don't know. You could get wrenched out of a beautiful nap, interrupted half-way through unloading the dishwasher, pulled out of an important phone call. Your time -your life- is simply no longer your own. You have lost control. Try to embrace it.

The Stuff of Parenthood: ...and What About "Us"?

You know that thing people always say about marriage and kids? That, "Don't-think-having kids-will-solve-your-marital-problems" thing? Well, in case you were wondering, it's true. While having a baby together does strengthen the bond at a deep-down level (going through heck and back with someone generally has a tendency to do that, i.e. having a colicky newborn together), in the short-term, at least, it creates a lot more marital problems than it solves.

Here's the way I see it. A couple that is well-rested, rational, and spends most evenings enjoying each other's company is 100% more likely to get along than a couple that is exhausted, barely keeping a grip on sanity, and that spends most evenings calming a crying infant. Some evenings, by the time you've put away dinner, bathed and got baby to sleep, squeezed in a favorite TV show, and crashed into bed, you realize that you haven't had a conversation today with your spouse. You don't even have the energy to tell him about your day. This is the sad truth of it.

Can't say I didn't expect it. One thing I didn't realize though, was how much harder it would be to communicate simply because of the increased noise level --how much harder it would literally be to hear and focus on what your spouse is saying over the din of the screaming and the wailing. We've actually had several misunderstandings simply because we mis-heard one another. (Being married to someone with low, quiet voice certainly hasn't helped matters in this department either).

Not to mention how many more opportunities there are to disagree about how things should be done and to just get cross with each other in general. Here are just a few examples:

"Should we let baby cry it out tonight?"
"Did you really forget to pack his binki!?"
"Are you actually asleep already?"
"Should we keep him up later or put him to bed now?"
"Are we a team on this, or what?"

But then, it's also the greatest part of marriage, isn't it? Working together. Learning together. Becoming parents. Together.

The Stuff of Parenthood: Concerning Bonding

As you can probably tell from my last post, I've given some thought to the idea of bonding. It's easy to freak myself out with this one: "Did I spend enough time snuggling/playing with Peter today?" "Will he still bond with me even though I stopped breast-feeding?" Of course you have these worries.

But more, I've thought about bonding as a process. Because here's the deal; when they put that baby in your arms for the first time, you and your baby are still -for most intents and purposes- total strangers.

All my life I dreamed of the moment when I would first hold my baby in my arms. In my dream, there was this moment of pure nirvana, this moment of total and instantaneous bonding. Now, as wonderful as the experience was, the metaphysical moment described above did not occur. It did not occur because, no matter how magical the moment, bonding simply doesn't happen in a moment. It happens bit by bit, day by day, diaper by diaper.

I love this quote about bonding and the newborn experience. It's from a book called "The babytalk Insider's Guide to Your Baby's First Year" (would highly recommend):

"...and life beyond the next diaper change is foggy at best. Sure, there are meaningful, memorable moments with your newborn, but it's not very likely that your relationship has evolved to the point that you could call it a bond. A bond is when you know exactly what someone needs and how to fulfill it, right? You may love your baby at first, but there's a good chance you don't always like him...or know what the heck to do for, with or about him.
...Meanwhile, we can all aspire to the perfect relationship...as long as we remember that these things reside mostly in fantasyland. Day by fuzzy day, somewhere along the way we start to get a little bit of it right..."

The Stuff of Parenthood: The Best Part

I'm going in a new direction with my blog. It will be les about what we've done this year (I want to make photo books for that) and more about my thoughts on stuff. All kinds of stuff. Not surprisingly, a lot of that stuff lately involves parenthood.

I should have made this post way back in November when my friend, Becky, asked me what was the best part about being a mom. I'd probably been complaining about something at the time (she has this endearing yet aggravating way of trying to steer the conversation in a more positive direction), and I, in my vast two months of experience, had a hard time coming up with an answer. I think I said cuddling and holding your baby. Yes, cuddling is great. But it's only part of the bigger picture. The best part? The best part is getting to know your baby - all of his wonderful little ways. And then, watching as he gets to know you. The first time he follows you around the room with his gaze. The first time he smiles when he sees your face -and all the smiles after that. It's the bonding. It's the way your heart grows.

This is a stanza from a poem my brother, Brian, wrote for my wedding. (Dave and I were married on May 1st, btw):

"...at length 'twill raise your orbits to enclose
little laughs and tiny toes
you'll wonder how a heart thus grows
or if yours may be the first"