5 Things I've Learned About Parenthood (So Far)

Being a mom is more challenging than I thought it would be. You feed a baby, you change its diapers, you get it dressed—what’s so hard about that? From the outside looking in, it all seems easy. That’s the first lesson, really: it will never get easy. 

1. The things that seem easy actually aren’t

Between all the easy stuff (the changing diapers, the dressing), there is stuff that is deceptively difficult. I worried about feeding near constantly at the beginning (is he eating enough? how many wet diapers did he have yesterday?) and I did a Google search for every dip in my supply, every rash Forrest developed, every little thing. I researched sleep patterns, nap times, wake times, activities, and everything in between. I was obsessed with making sure he was getting enough, doing enough. Was his development on track? 

It seems so easy. The baby is hungry, you feed him. The baby is sleepy, you put him down and he falls asleep. But it’s not. It’s really not. 

2. When parents say they are busy, they are busy. 

Being busy, for parents, isn’t just something cute to post about on social media. It’s a reality. 

And amongst all of these secretly difficult parts of being a new parent—the feeding, the pumping, the changing, the tracking every detail, the reading, the holding him for every nap—I had to do basic things like clean the house, shower, cook dinner, pay bills, and eat. This is why I spent the first 4 months of Forrest’s life in leggings and sweatshirts. Don’t even talk to me about getting groceries when Forrest was younger than 6 months—it was an undertaking that required planning.

3. It gets “different” (not easier). 

It gets different though—not really easier, just different. That’s the thing about parenthood. I think I know just about how to survive and then Forrest does something different. 

By the time I had Forrest’s nap schedule, poop schedule, and feeding schedule down… he changed it up. He ate more per feeding, less frequently. Cool. He wanted to stay awake longer. Cool. He wanted to stay up late, or go to bed earlier. Or he went two days without pooping and then, bam! Like nothing had ever happened. 

I would love to be one of those parents who keeps their baby on a strict schedule: feedings, naps, meals, bedtimes. But it’s just not possible. I’m impressed by parents who manage to do this early on and can mentally keep track of it. Some days, Forrest’s schedule is set in stone and perfect; some days, he hasn’t had a nap all day and wants to go to bed at 4:30. It’s whatever. 

4. You spend money on stuff you never thought you would. 

A “treat” for me used to be going to Target and buying a new top or dress, or a new piece of home decor. Now, I splurge, almost every trip, on an outfit for Forrest, as many of the baby food packets as I can handle, and potentially a new toy. When we have extra money, we buy things for Forrest: a car seat, a music-playing projector, a big toy. I recently bought myself a new phone case for $8 and felt tremendous guilt about it. I haven’t bought new clothes for several months, but Forrest has enough clothes to last him until December without wearing anything twice. 

Our newest exciting purchase is a miniature toilet for Forrest to start sitting on. I used to spend $20 on a single eyeliner; now I’m researching and reading reviews on the best potty to potty train. 

5. You’ll do things you swore you would never do. 

Like sleep train, or formula feed, or join a mom’s group. Two things I swore I would never do: take a kid who wouldn’t remember it to Disneyland and throw a massive first birthday party. 

Well, Danny and I are planning both of those things for Forrest, so I’m really eating my words there. 

The truth is, you never know what kind of kid you’ll have (a non-sleeper or a good sleeper, a terrible eater or a great eater, an independent baby who can play happily on the floor for hours or a baby who wants to be entertained, by you, until nap time) and so you’ll never know what kind of parent you’ll be until you’re there. 

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It’s easy to think things will be one way and only that way: you have a “good baby” or a “difficult baby.” But if I’ve learned anything, things can change day-to-day. Some days, it’s so easy. And other days, I want to tear my (greasy, unwashed) hair out. Some days, Forrest is an angel; some days, I swear, he’s trying to make me miserable. 

But then I get to kiss Forrest’s chubby little cheeks, read a book to him, and put him in his cute little shark pajamas, and I realize I get to experience the greatest journey of all mankind. Being a mom isn’t easy, but it’s also pretty great. 

Let's Move on from Jungle-Themed Baby Stuff

What's one terribly random problem I encountered when I was pregnant with Forrest? The fact that everything for babies is jungle-themed. 

I have nothing against a nice jungle theme, but sometimes, I just want to get a piece of baby equipment that isn't decked out with monkeys. Especially when it comes to boy stuff, it seemed like it was jungle or nothing at all. 

This is something Danny and I really struggled with. We wanted things that were gender neutral and theme neutral. I don't like monkeys, in general, and I wasn't 100% sold on having them covering everything in our living room. We did well on most things, opting for a neutral swing (no jungle animals hanging from it) and neutral toys (limited monkeys). 

Things got difficult, though. Our Fisher-Price Kick'n'Play mat was only available in a jungle theme. Our Fisher-Price Sit-Me-Up chair was cheapest in, you guessed it, a jungle theme. I was willing to give in on those two items. We spent hours searching for an activity center, a bouncer that didn't have a rainforest or jungle theme. We settled on a Finding Nemo bouncer that seemed like a safe middle ground. 

This leads me to a very important question: what is it about jungle theme? What about it is so appealing to toy producers? Why not forest themed or water themed? Why is everything jungle? Why not just plain shapes? 

When I think about something like our Fisher-Price Kick'n'Play mat... I have to wonder why it had to be a jungle. Why not just a plain colored mat with the plain colored keyboard? The toys that hang off of it don't have to be animals: they could be plain colorful shapes, shaky toys, and ropes. They don't have to be animals. 

I'm ready for more neutral baby products. That's all I want: basic, simple, pretty baby products. 

An Ode to Working Moms

If you'd told me, 10 years ago, that when I had a baby there would be something called "mommy wars" on the internet, I would have said two things: 1) you're a liar because I'm not going to have kids, duh and 2) that sounds seriously stupid. 

Well, surprise 17-year-old Michelle, both those things are real.  

One of the many, many mommy wars (ugh) is the working moms and the stay at home moms. Those who participate in the (totally ridiculous) battles believe that, ultimately, they have it the hardest. The truth is, both working moms and stay at home moms struggle, just in different ways. 

I walk the line between being a stay at home mom and a working mom. When I go to work, I am at work: I have my work hat on, I try to dress in something other than sweatpants (a struggle), and I try not to think or talk about Forrest unless I'm asked.

It's easy to think that working moms just, you know, go back to work. They just get right back on the horse and work and go home and that's it, easy peasy. But it's just not so. Before I was one, I had a hard time conceptualizing why it was hard to be a working mom.

When you're a mom, the work doesn't really stop.

I get up everyday around 5am. I shower. I put on my makeup. I get dressed. By 6am, Forrest is starting to stir in his crib. I get him dressed, feed him a bottle if he hasn't had one for a while. I get him ready for the day before handing him off to Danny (if it's summer) or driving him to my mom's (if it's not). In the time I'm taking care of him, I get my coffee ready, put my breakfast and lunch in my lunch bag, and gather everything I need for the day. I go to work and when I get home, I keep working. I take care of Forrest, cook dinner, and feed him. I change diapers, play, and give him a bath. Once he is in bed, I clean the kitchen and living room and then do any freelance work I need to do. By 7 or 8pm, I might be able to sit down and watch a little TV, but I try to be in bed by 9pm at the latest. 

Spending all day away from your baby is awful.

The first few days I went to work, I cried the entire drive there. Some mornings, I still do. When Forrest has slept good and is in a great mood... I can't help but want to stay home! It's difficult to know that someone else is having fun with your baby while you're working, cuddling them, making sure they eat and sleep. It's hard for me to let go of the responsibility of being the primary caregiver. Since Forrest was born, I did most of the feedings. I got him to sleep for naps. I played with him and took his picture. Stepping away from that, and relinquishing control of his care is difficult for me. But it makes getting home to him even better. 

It's hard to feel like you're doing a good job at either thing. 

I sometimes feel like I rush through my days. I rush through my morning routine to try to get to work earlier. I rush through work to try and get home to Forrest. I rush through the evening to get to cleaning and to have everything ready for the next morning. In the end, I wonder how effective I am at being both a mom and an employee. I think about Forrest when I'm at work and I think about work (and all the things I didn't get to) when I'm with Forrest. It's stressful to try and do everything. 

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Being a working mom is hard, it's true. But it can also be really fulfilling. I firmly believe that I need to work to remain happy in my life. I find fulfillment both in being a mom and in my career. I think it is absolutely possible to do both things--it just takes a little bit of sacrifice and finding what works. I'm getting better at balancing my work and my life. I'm getting better at reducing my stress outside (and inside) the office. 

But to all the other working moms out there: you aren't alone. We're all trundling along, doing the best we can. This is for you, you hardworking, professional ladies. 

I Didn't Have a Birth Plan

In my 2nd trimester, I sat down and tried to write a birth plan. I looked up online what they usually included; I asked my mom, and my friends, and anyone else I could think of. "What even is a birth plan?" I asked Danny. He shrugged. 

It was easy to be an idealist when I was pregnant. I couldn't imagine a world where I went into labor early; I couldn't imagine a world where I didn't breastfeed; I couldn't imagine a world where I would be induced. It just wasn't a reality for me. I imagined Danny and I pulling up the hospital, me waddling inside the labor & delivery floor for the first time. 

As anyone who has read my blog before knows, that's basically the opposite of what happened. 

A lot of energy and emotion is put into birth plans. We plan our nurseries and our schedules and our maternity leaves--we assume we can plan our labor as well, or our entire pregnancies. But as good at planning as I may be, I couldn't plan preeclampsia. I had never known anyone who had developed preeclampsia during pregnancy and even though I had fears about it, I never realistically thought it would happen. 

But it did happen. In one doctor's appointment, all my plans went out the window. If I had had a birth plan at that point, it undoubtedly would have been mostly out the window. 

Since I overthink every situation, I found myself, in the weeks after Forrest's birth, wondering that, if I'd had a better plan in place, would things have been different? I found myself second guessing everything I'd wanted. Did the epidural make Forrest lazier, which made it more difficult for him to nurse? Did the inducement rush his birth? (Later, I would look back at this last question and say to myself, "That's the point.") I found myself asking over and over, did my preeclampsia cause every problem we have? 

Nothing I would go back and "do" would change my preeclampsia: preeclampsia begins at conception, even if you don't show symptoms until the end of pregnancy. Preeclampsia isn't something you make happen to yourself; it's just something that happens. There was nothing I could have done to fix my faulty placenta. 

At the same time, I realized something brilliant about my lack of a birth plan. Many moms who develop preeclampsia end up hating how they had to give birth. If you have a specific idea in mind (an unmedicated birth in a birth center, or at home, for example) and then medical necessity requires you do something you don't want to, it can be jarring, emotionally. That isn't to say you shouldn't plan for a home birth or giving birth at a birth center, but that you should be ready to have something change at the drop of the hat. 

It's very easy to let ourselves get bogged down by the things that went wrong. Even though a plan, I found myself sad about giving birth earlier than I wanted to. I wondered if I'd done everything wrong. But the truth is, pregnancy is just one big guessing game; you can try to get things perfect as much as you want, but the more you plan, the more you're likely to feel upset if things don't go "right." 

I'm not advocating for everyone to drop their birth plans--but I do think it's better to be more chill about how your labor & delivery goes than we currently are. There is no shame in a home birth or going to a birth center, but there is also no shame in going to a hospital, getting an epidural, or opting for a c-section. In the end, the baby will arrive. The most important thing is that everyone is ok at the end of it. 

Why We Decided to Sleep Train

I swore I would never sleep train. The idea of letting Forrest "cry it out" bothered me, in that it felt fundamentally wrong.

However, after 8-and-a-half months of very, very little sleep and highly interrupted sleep, I knew I needed to do something. I wasn't sleeping, I had no time to myself, and my back and hips were starting to ache from acting as a barrier from the edge of the bed. 

For about 6 weeks, I read every article I could find on sleep training; I followed sleep training blogs and joined sleep training groups; I asked all my friends about sleep training and fretted to my mom. When Forrest was 6 or 7 weeks old, I'd read an article that sleep training caused emotional trauma and I found myself unable to shake that from my mind. If we sleep trained, would it hurt him? 

Here's the conclusion I ultimately came to. (And remember, this is just my conclusion; every parent is free to make their own.) There is an appropriate emotional age to sleep train and it's different for every baby. Some babies will be fine sleep training at 4-6 months. Some babies will be fine sleep training after 6 months. Some babies are capable of sleep training from birth on. It just depends on your baby and your comfort level. 

Here's another thing: Sleep training doesn't mean letting your baby scream and cry until they puke and pass out. This horrible article went around a few months ago (it's the one I read when Forrest was tiny) about a person listening to a friend's child scream and scream and scream alone in their room and how awful and terrible it was. It's a bad article. It is. It is completely made up and not indicative of real sleep training. 

A blog I read said it best: sleep training is about communicating with your child, teaching a skill, and empowering your child to sleep better. 

The truth is, disrupted, poor sleep is bad for both Forrest and me. Both of us were suffering from sleep deprivation. He was cranky all the time, sleeping barely 10 hours a day (at 9 months, most babies still need 13-14 hours of sleep total). I needed to sleep and Forrest needed to sleep. 

So we decided to sleep train. 

We did a few things first. I ordered a sound machine because Forrest sleeps best with white noise (river and water sounds, typically). I ordered the myBaby SoundSpa Lullaby Sound Machine and Projector on a recommendation from my due date group on Facebook. I put Danny in charge of finding a baby monitor and he picked this one: the Hello Baby Wireless Monitor with Night Vision. We needed a monitor that didn't use WiFi and this one works perfectly for our needs. 

We had experimented with a few different sleep training methods before. Here are a few common methods (although this blog doesn't use the appropriate names for them). We noticed something specific with Forrest: if we checked on him or went in to reposition him, it would start his crying all over again. He would return to the intense, angry cry. So we decided to use the extinction method. 

Extinction is what people mean with they say "cry it out"; however, "cry it out" isn't the name of any actual method. It also doesn't mean we don't tend to him or ignore him. The first night, Forrest cried for over 90 minutes, which was rough; Danny went in to lie him back down three times (just to avoid him falling over from being so tired). Once he went to sleep, though, he slept for 7 solid hours. 

Seven hours!! Forrest has never slept 7 hours straight in his life before that. Before sleep training, he was waking up every 2 hours to eat. 

It was revolutionary. We have been sleep training for 10 days now and each day, he gets a little better. He goes to bed at 6pm and usually wakes up to fuss at 10pm. Then he fusses himself back to sleep within 10 minutes. He wakes up at 4:55am for a bottle, then sleeps until 7am most days. 

7am. This is the baby that has been getting me up at 4:30am or 5:00am for months. Now he sleeps until 7am! He only eats 1 bottle at night! He falls asleep after 15 minutes of crying! 

The best part? He's happier during the day. He naps less frequently, plays more, and has started making more developmental steps. He eats better during the day. He's more fun to play with. Everything is better now that he's sleep. 

The best part? After 6pm, I have time to myself. I can vacuum, clean the kitchen, organize my desk area, clean the bedroom, and more. I can write in my journal. I can scrapbook or write! I have time to myself. My house is getting cleaned up. I can watch TV shows at 6pm. Danny and I can watch movies together. 

Sleep training isn't for everyone. It's absolutely true. Some parents just can't stand to hear their babies cry for 90 minutes. But now that we've worked through the hardest parts, it's hard to imagine never having done it. I don't regret it one bit. We are a happier family now thanks to sleep training and that's what matters. 

Adopting a "Me First" Attitude

"Moms put themselves last" is a phrase I hear probably at least 2-3 times a weeks--and it's a good one to hear. It's easy to allow myself to slip to the bottom of the pile, to be the last one who gets a shower or to eat. It's easy to think that, as a mom, I should come last. The tides are changing though and as much as some still cling to the notion that moms should, no matter what, be at the beck and call of their children 100% of the time, people are waking up the idea that, surprisingly, the minute you become a mother you don't lose your identity as a person. 

Before Forrest was born, I remember being so sure that I would never lose myself to motherhood: I would never be one of those women who finds themselves unshowered, in PJs, feeling stressed and unloved. I would also never, I assumed, co-sleep or bottle feed or any other those other things, right? It's crazy how my thoughts and mantras and plans come back to bite me in the ass. 

A few weeks ago, something clicked inside my brain: for probably 6 or 7 months, I didn't spend any time during the day not thinking about Forrest. Shout out to Forrest, he's great and interesting and very funny, but conversations are a little one-sided at this point. During my maternity leave, it was even worse; I had nothing to talk about with anyone. All I had to talk about was, in this order: Forrest, pumping, Forrest's poop, my diaper preferences, how many wipes, on average, I used during the day, grocery shopping and how stressful I found it, and random daytime TV. I didn't go anywhere, I didn't do anything. I stayed home with Forrest; I fed him, he napped, we played. That's it. 

Last week, I decided to start doing a few things to help myself, I don't know, get away from being just a mom sometimes. It's true that I go to work and during my work hours, I'm in work mode--but that's still not being me. That's not taking care of me or participating in something that makes me feel revived. 

For the sake of holding myself accountable, here are just a few of the things I've been doing: 

• More writing about things other than being a mom. If you saw me in person as I typed that, you'd see my shifty eyes, as I'm still, technically, writing about being a mom. But I'll have you know I have written almost an entire short story in a week. If I even produce one piece of non-mom, non-work writing a month, that's a plus. 
   
• Less photos of Forrest on Instagram. My Instagram went from a fun, 20-something feed full of pictures of coffee, notebooks, outfits, and food to a feed entirely dominated by pictures of a small baby person. It's probably not interesting to 65% of the people who follow me and it doesn't really serve to promote my blog either. So, sorry Forrest, less you, more me. 
   
• Demand time to myself. Sometimes, this thing happens where I cook dinner, Danny gets home from work, we eat, and then... Danny says something like, "I want to go finish this article." Then he's reading for 20, 30, 40 minutes. After dinner, it's a countdown to Forrest's bedtime of 6-6:30pm, so if we finish eating at 5:00 or even 5:30, that means I only get 30 minutes to an hour to myself, since I rock Forrest to sleep and lie with him in bed once he's asleep. The past few days, I've been handing Danny the baby and saying, "I'm going to do this, this, and then this." Those things might be "wash bottles, pay bills, and wash my face" or they might be "take a bath, write, and fold laundry." I deserve those minutes and I will take them.

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There it is. It's all out on the table now. As much as I love taking care of Forrest first, it's getting to be personally draining, that's for sure. I don't ever want to be annoyed at taking care of Forrest, so if that means sometimes he plays while I read or take a shower or eat lunch... then so be it. 

The Truth About Losing a Passion

"I used to be really into photography," I say. I'm talking to a relatively new coworker and, even though the conversation continues without a hitch, I find myself drifting back to this. I say it a lot; I used to be really into fashion; I used to run a fashion blog; I used to be very into makeup; i used to be, I used to be, I used to be. 

It's been 7 months since I really had time for hobbies. I haven't been to the gym, gone running, scrapbooked, or written in my journal in 7 months. I just have more important things to do. Make up is a necessity now (and I praise whoever invented concealer, the beauty blender, and contour palettes) and so is clothing (one that I hate with a passion). I take pictures of Forrest and that's about it.

It's not that I don't enjoy these things anymore; I just don't feel passionate about them like I used to. I can still peruse the make up aisles forever, but I know I won't be posting reviews or anything else. I still use my camera, but it's less about getting better at photography and more about just taking some quick photos.  

There are no more pictures of stealing cups of coffee for me, or journals beautifully laid out on my desk. I drink my coffee cold more mornings and my journal sits on my desk expectantly. Right now, I'm wearing Forrest in the Ergo while I write this and I have about 20 minutes to write before it's time to play and roll and read books (all of which are super fun, admittedly). 

I miss being passionate about things, though.  

There is part of me that realizes I'm never going to be super into photography or make up or anything ever again. I'll probably find new hobbies, I'm sure, but I've moved on from the old me. I'll probably never run a fashion blog again. And that's ok, I don't need to. 

Sometimes, I feel embarrassed about how different I am from the person I used to be: I used to be thin and put together; I had hobbies and passions; my house was relatively clean and nice. But I have to remind myself that people change--I've changed. I'm just not the person I used to be anymore, and that's ok. I have other things to do now, things that are just as fulfilling and fun as photography, fashion, and make up ever were. 

Stop Telling Me to "Cherish Every Moment": It's Not Your Job to Police My Feelings

Having a baby made me lonely. I don't think I'm alone in this, although it's a fact that very few moms talk about. It is a very lonely and isolating experience. In the early weeks, I spent hours by myself: during the day while Danny was at work, Forrest too fragile and sick (and my pumping schedule too messed up already) to leave the house; during the night when Forrest wouldn't sleep or when he ate every 2 hours. I was desperately, painfully lonely, sad, and sleep deprived. 

Thankfully, technology has blessed us (and potentially cursed us) with the invention of mommy groups on Facebook. I joined all kinds when I was pregnant: due date groups, breastfeeding groups. After Forrest was born, exclusive pumping groups, lactation cookie manufacturer groups. Recently, formula feeding support groups. If nothing else, I had someone to ask questions (when I felt bad texting my mom for the 100th time that day) and people to talk to. It got less lonely. 

However, I've began to notice this tendency, especially in these groups, but occasionally on Facebook as a whole, for people to correct others on both their opinions and feelings. It's not just Sanctimommies telling you how wrong you are about your parenting choices anymore: it's emotion policing. It's complaining about your child waking up every 2 hours during the night and having someone reply, "But it could be so much worse! You are so lucky to have a baby!"

"Don't you know it could be worse?" they chirp, from their pedestals carved of gold, cherishing every moment.

The posts about "your child only has 900 Saturdays before COLLEGE!" and appreciating every ding-dong little detail abound.

The lines have been drawn: if you complain, someone will tell you to "cheer up!" or "it could be worse!" 

And you know what? That's no one's job and it's completely unnecessary

It's not anyone's job to police my feelings. When I vent about my son not sleeping or my husband forgetting to let me sleep in or my dog puking, I don't need to be told it could be worse. I know. I know it could be worse. But that doesn't stop my feeling right now in this moment and it does not mean that my feelings are not valid.

There will always be things I want to change about my pregnancy: I wish I hadn't gotten preeclampsia; I wish I hadn't had Forrest so early; I wish he had been admitted to the NICU so we could have better cared for him in those early days; I wish I had better educated myself about breastfeeding; I wish, I wish, I wish. Saying these things--and feeling these feelings--does not mean I don't appreciate how healthy Forrest is now. I do. And honestly, the reason he is so healthy now is on me: I did that, no one else did, I sweated and bled and pumped and washed and rocked. I did that; I told myself I would make him better and I did. He is my child and my feelings about his care and life are mine. 

No one has the right to tell me I can or cannot feel a certain way. It's no one's job to follow me around and say, "Cherish this moment!" when I'm mad or angry or frustrated. It's no one's job to say, "But aren't you sooooo glad he needs you?" when I complain that we are still co-sleeping. It's no one's job; it's honestly no one's business why I feel the way I do or how I raise my child. If anyone thinks differently about the way I feel about something related to my child, they have two options: they can scroll past and say nothing (ideal!) or they can say something like "it could be worse, you know! You should cherish every moment!" and have me reply with, "My feelings are valid and they are none of your business." And if the latter makes them mad, that's not really a me problem. 

That's a them problem. 

I don't need to "cherish these moments"; I already do. And it's okay for me to also say, "Man, today is shitty. I can't wait for my kid to sleep." And it's entirely possible for me to complain about the little things (co-sleeping, diapers, blow outs, laundry, whatever) and still cherish and appreciate them. It's funny how humanity has an array of emotions and I can feel multiple things at once. 

I don't need anyone to butt in and say otherwise.  It's no one's job to tell anyone how to feel, to repeatedly remind them to see the bright side or be more positive. That's not a personality trait; that's not seeing the bright side; that's being annoying, dismissive, and rude. I have the right to be able to express my feelings somewhere. I have to be able to say how I feel. 

No one is perfect. Everyone deserves to have their feelings validated and heard and appreciated. Everyone experiences motherhood differently and invalidating the emotions of other mothers is potentially the lowest form of being a Sanctimommy. 

The "cherish every moment!" slogan of apparently perfect moms everywhere is grating for one reason: it makes mothers feel as if their feelings are bad or as though once you become a mother you are not allowed to feel negative or complain ever (because someone somewhere has it worse than you, apparently). As if feeling guilty or sad or angry or upset or just plain tired are feelings that mothers should never have.

And if there is one thing I know for certain, mothers are too often told how to feel or what not to feel; we're told how to feed our babies and how not too; we are lectured on car seats and cribs and SIDS and hundreds of other things; we are sent home from hospitals blubbering piles of sadness and leakiness and pain and rawness and expected to just morph into happy little Stepford wives overnight. Our opinions and decisions are judged and second-guessed at every turn. Mothers--and women, as an entire group--do not need to be guilted or invalidated for having real human feelings as well.