On New Motherhood

I am a mom.  It’s still a little weird to realize that.  My son is now two and a half months old, and that thought still hits me every so often (more so the first two months).  The following post might end up being a jumbled, rambling verbalization about my thoughts on motherhood.  Mostly because I am chronically sleep deprived, and this post has taken awhile to put together.  Please note, I will use “I” throughout because I am speaking for myself, but my husband is a very involved father and is absolutely my parenting partner, so this is not to exclude him!

I have found motherhood to be exhausting, time consuming, frustrating, challenging, humbling, and incredibly rewarding.  There are times when I have felt like I just have no idea what I am doing or what this child needs, and times when I am so tired that I have desperately wanted to just check out, handing the baby off to someone else and just crashing for hours.  I guess I didn’t expect to feel so unprepared and as frequently overwhelmed as I have (though I really can’t say I’ve felt that way a lot).  I have a lot of child care experience, so I think I expected to be above average compared to an average new parent. Despite my twelve years or so of babysitting (“parenting practice” I’d call it sometimes), I still have never cared for a newborn for any length of time.  I have to remind myself of this when I find myself thinking that I should know better how to do all this, and cut myself some slack.  I am definitely my own worst critic.  

The hardest thing has been sleep and scheduling.  I knew that we would be sleep deprived, but that is something you can know in your head, and still be knocked over by when you experience it.  Someone told me recently that she thought there should be a different word or phrase besides “tired” to describe “new mom tired”.  I can’t agree more.  This baby is not a gifted natural good-sleeper.  I certainly envy parents of those children, but for us sleep has been an ongoing struggle.  We didn’t know what we were doing, and Xander can seriously fight going to sleep.  I like having a schedule, so being tied to the sleep and nutritional needs of a baby is challenging for me.  I like planning out my day, but nowadays I can make plans that get thrown off by an unusually short naptime or various other things.  Flexibility has not been my strength, and I am now constantly forced to practice it.  

Speaking of weaknesses, I have heard it said that part of marriage is that your spouse holds up a mirror to show you all your faults and sinfulness.  I suppose it’s not surprising at all, but I’m definitely realizing how much more a child is capable of that helpful and unpleasant task. I have had to face that I am not nearly as patient or selfless as I ought to be.

Our little guy is growing and getting chubby and I feel accomplished – I did that (sort of)!  My body is making milk that’s feeding him everything he needs, and it’s amazing.  At various points, it has seemed to us that he is just tired and can’t possibly be still hungry, but then he is only satisfied when he is fed, and we realize he is going through a growth spurt, eating more frequently for that 24-48 hour period.  I have often felt as though I am nursing him too much, but it’s not as though we don’t try other things first.  We can try to put him to sleep or use a pacifier, or motion, or whatever, but if he is hungry, he is hungry.  I found a great article that helped me relax about nursing him (“breastfeeding on demand” as it’s known).  When I realized that we had been ignoring his cues because “experts” (or really, just other people) made us think that he “shouldn’t” be eating so often, I felt bad.  I realized that we are his parents and we know him better than anyone else, and we really can tell when he is communicating that he’s hungry.  I have had to learn to trust those instincts.  

I guess you never know what kind of parent you will be until you are one. I always looked down on the attachment parenting movement (characterized by cosleeping, breastfeeding on demand, babywearing, and sometimes extended breastfeeding) a bit.  Mostly, I disliked how outspoken they tended to be in believing theirs was the best parenting philosophy, and how long some parents continue to do these things.  Personally, if my kid is still cosleeping with us at age 3, we may never have any other children.  I find myself landing in that general vicinity of parenting philosophies, though, and for awhile, I felt like a huge hypocrite.  Essentially, I decided I’m okay with the whole attachment parenting philosophy, at least with an infant, and when not taken to the extreme.  Regardless of what parenting style you end up using, no one should be snooty about their way being the best or only way.  Every parent/family is going to do what seems best and right for their family and that particular child, and none of us need any added pressure. 

I have found myself thinking that I would really like a day off.  I thought, “I have been doing this (nursing, not sleeping, changing diapers, trying to get him to sleep) for six weeks now, so it’s time for a break, right?”  I wish I could have one of the nights I used to enjoy so much – staying up all night long and sewing and watching Netflix and having eight hours to myself to do whatever I’d like. Oh yeah, and then sleeping like a rock for 8 hours with the bed all to myself.  It really is hard to believe that I have spent every day of this little person’s life with him.  I have spent more time with him than any other person on the planet.  Not even my husband has spent as much time with him as I have.  Crazy. 

Somehow, the days go by fairly quickly and yet still slowly at times.  I am kept busy, so the day doesn’t drag, but I spend a lot of time at home not doing anything visibly or measurably productive.  I am also an extrovert, which means spending this much time at home without seeing people drives me a little crazy.  I spend way too much time on Facebook to make up for not feeling connected with the world.  I really appreciate having both sets of grandparents and so many family members and friends in the area who are willing to come help me out, or even just come keep me company.  I don’t think I’m cut out to be a long-term, every day stay at home mom.  I’m grateful that Andrew and I have decided that when I go back to work full time (which as a nurse is just three days a week), he will drop to part-time hours and be a stay at home dad for part of the week, and maybe in a few years, be home full time. 

One of the most amazing things about motherhood is how much this child can frustrate and wear you out, and you still have the most astounding depths of love for them.  More and more people these days will say that they love their child(ren) more than their spouse, but I don’t think it’s fair to compare the two at all.  I love my husband, but the love I have for my son is just different.  I have definitely fallen in love with my son – the same moments of overwhelming emotional love that happened when Andrew and I were first falling in love are happening now, with Xander.  I could have just finished getting him to sleep (with great effort), and you would think I would be thrilled to be able to set him down and have some “me time” or get something done, but at that moment, I just want to hold him and stare at him and marvel at this little person that grew inside me and is ours.  His father and I feel incredibly blessed to have him in our family; I can’t imagine our lives without him.  To God be the glory!

Links:

"So I Nursed Him Every 45 Minutes"

http://www.lalecheleague.org/nb/law45com.html

"How American parenting is killing the American marriage"
http://qz.com/273255/how-american-parenting-is-killing-the-american-marriage/

My Parent, My Friend

     For this second installment in my parenting series, I’d like to expand on the partnership role I mentioned in my last post.

     At this point in my life, I’ve passed a good portion of that difficult transition stage. Thankfully, I’m no longer a teenager, overwrought with emotions, hormones, and other things I didn’t understand. Yet, I live with my parents for some of the year, and I’m still under their authority. The difficulty now is determining how much I’m under their authority, and how much I can have them next to me in an advisory role.

     We still argue, because there are times when my parents want more control than I’d like to give them, times when I want to tell them to leave me alone and let me do it my way. For the most part, however, I consider my parents my friends. They are my advisors in life decisions, my encouragers through all sorts of struggles, my resources of practical wisdom, my unconditionally loving and reliable foundation, and my examples of all I want to be as a parent (and some things I don’t want to be). I have said many times, and had many friends concur, that I probably have the best parents ever. I admit that I do not know a lot about parenting, because I am not a parent. I would contend, however, that I have a very good idea of what it looks like to be a good parent, because of the examples I have. When I think about my relationship with my parents (now, granted, not when I was a teenager), I can honestly say that I want my relationships with my children to be just like ours.

     How does one get there? I’ve certainly wondered why my relationship with my parents looks the way it does, especially as compared to several friends. For instance, I have a close friend whose parents want to be deeply involved in her decisions, including those regarding her relationship with her boyfriend. This type of parenting led to anxiety and stress for both sides, and a very strained relationship, even after the couple broke up. Another friend has expressed envy of families with parents who want to be involved in their children’s lives at all. How involved is too involved? How does one cultivate a good relationship with an adolescent child?

     My answer comes to mind in several parts: trial and error, contained failure, and it’s up to the child.

     The first part probably needs no explanation. Every parent makes mistakes, and every kid grows up and realizes (or should realize) that his or her family has issues. This is why I think everyone should go to counseling at some point in their lives, but I digress. Parenting is difficult, and no one has the perfect way all figured out. Being able to see one’s errors, acknowledge them (especially to the child, when appropriate), and learn from them in order to move on is the take-home point here.

     The principle of contained failure is one my parents were told when they were young parents, and one that has carried through the years. Essentially, it’s a “pick your battles” principle which says, if it’s not harmful to the child or others, let them do it. I have many memories of saying to my mom, “But I want to do it this way!” and her saying, “Okay, contained failure”. I can still picture her hands going up like she was physically letting go of the issue. It told me that she believed she had the better way, but that she would let me try it my way if I really wanted to. Interestingly, that was often all she needed to say for me to give in and do it her way. Recently, I had an interaction with a 4-year-old I babysit which affirmed my belief in the benefit of picking your battles and, more importantly, listening. I had in mind one way of doing things, and he wanted another, and started to whine and argue. I told him I didn’t want to argue with him, but I did want to hear why it was so important to him. This stopped him in his tracks. We calmly discussed both ways, and I decided it would be fine to do it his way this time. Yes, my way had better rationale, and his way ended up being more of a hassle, but the open, calm method of communication I initiated was worth it.

     The third point in having a healthy, low-stress relationship with an adolescent may be the most important: it’s up to the child. No parent can make a child want to talk to him or her by requiring it. I cannot tell you how many times I’ve seen this tried, and seen it fail miserably. The mother of one friend in high school made it clear to her daughter that she was not allowed to have secrets from her parents. Instead of fostering a relationship in which her daughter could tell her anything (which I’m sure was what she wanted), her daughter kept more from her. Another friend was required to come home from college for the entire weekend, every weekend of the first two years. He hated it. I’m certain that, once his parents no longer required it, he would almost never go voluntarily. I am absolutely convinced that the best way to encourage a child to involve her parents in her life is to allow her the freedom to decide when and how that happens. When I was a freshman in college, my parents told me they would enjoy seeing me home for a weekend when I could make it, and they would look forward to hearing from me often. There were no requirements, no guilt-trips, there was no emotional manipulation. The result? I called my parents every day, even for five minutes here or there, and went home about every other weekend. I adjusted to college, got busier, and relied on them less and less. The content of my phone calls changed from “what laundry setting should I use?” to “I got a great score on my test; how’s your day going?”. Now, in my fourth year, I don’t make it home very often, and I make many more decisions without needing my parents’ answers. Do you know what hasn’t changed? I still call them every day or every other day, just to say hello and to catch up. My parents know what’s going on in my life, have met (and like!) my boyfriend, and know many of my friends (and my dad is friends with them on Facebook). [As an aside, my dad is not on Facebook to stalk me, and I willingly became his Facebook friend.] If I don’t call for awhile, they’ll call me or send an email, but they don’t sound worried about me, upset with me, or say I’ve hurt their feelings. Sadly, I don’t know very many other people who can say that.

     Some people may think that this sort of relationship is bad in relation to respect and authority, but they couldn’t be more wrong. In my case at least, I respect my parents immensely, and honor their authority because they do not force it upon me. At 21, I feel blessed to have the kind of adult relationship with my parents that many people do not have until their late 30s, if ever.

     True, my parents aren’t perfect, and my family has issues. At the same time, I can truly say that I love my parents dearly, and I know with all my heart that I can tell them anything, and they will love me and accept me. I’m proud to call my parents my friends.

Growing Up is Hard to Do

. . . so is parenting. This post is the first in a series in which I will be ambitiously tackling a topic that is both close to my heart and relevant to my stage of life: The Transition to Adulthood.

     At 21, I’m considered an adult in many ways. But am I? I’m a student, so I don’t have a full time job, meaning I’m very financially dependent on my parents. I’m mature, but enough to admit I’m not completely an adult emotionally. And for several months of the year, I live at home, becoming more physically dependent on my parents (or at least their resources) than when I live at school.

     In college, I’ve had the opportunities to see my parents and family from a different perspective and to hear about and observe other people’s parents and families. I cannot begin to tell you how much I feel I’ve learned from this alone, setting my formal education aside entirely. Through my observations and my friends’ experiences, I have seen families ranging from emotionally manipulative to the point of abuse to those that are emotionally absent. I’ve seen a variety of parenting techniques regarding decision making, from allowing an adolescent to make all their own decisions in the middle of high school to holding on tightly well into college. One thing I know for certain: parenting is hard. All of these families care about their children, and want to do what’s best for them, and knowing when to let go is probably one of the most difficult parts of parenting.

     Teenagerhood is widely considered the most difficult time for a parent (and a child). I would propose that it doesn’t have to be as horrific as it often is. The main reason teenagers are so difficult to deal with is that they are trying to find out who they are and asserting their independence. Therein lies the struggle: the teenager striving for control, while the parents struggle to determine when it is best to let go. Here are a few things I’ve noticed about this transition.

     It’s always gradual, so there’s no “right age” to let go completely.

It’s greatly dependent on the maturity level of the adolescent, because a parent shouldn’t let go when the young person can’t handle it on their own.

It helps immensely to have an open relationship with good communication.

It helps to be emotionally understanding and loving.

     I think it also helps to view your children as little people from the beginning – that is, if you think of your baby as a baby until age 5, and then think of him as a child until he’s 15, you’re going to run into problems. Five-year-olds are not babies, and at fifteen, that “child” is trying to become a young man. When you perpetually have the perspective that you are the parent and you always know what’s best and he/she’s still a “child”, it makes it harder to transition to thinking of your child as a young man or woman. Granted, I don’t have children, and I imagine it’s easier said than done. However, I babysit frequently, and I can guarantee that you will make life difficult for yourself if you treat a five-year-old as a baby, let alone if you treat a fifteen-year-old as a child. Children, at any age, have their own thoughts and ideas about the world, and they want them to be heard and valued. How many times have you heard teenagers say, “You just don’t understand me!”? I can’t tell you how often I’ve heard friends say of their folks, “Why don’t they listen?”.

     Although in every family struggle, there are failures on both sides, the majority of the time, so much trouble could be avoided if the parents just listened. Let me clarify. This is not to say that the parents ought to listen so the child can dictate what happens or when, but listen and try to sympathize. Adults have experiences that should enable them to be emotionally understanding, putting themselves in that place. Listen to acknowledge feelings, even while disapproving of actions and offering alternatives. Listen to express to the child that his or her thoughts, ideas, feelings, and priorities have value.

     The bottom line is that this transition to adulthood is difficult for both parties. For the child, it’s learning new responsibilities, finding identity, and fitting in to a new role, even while we want to hang on to the old. For a parent, it’s acknowledging that you no longer have the primary role in decision making, but a partnership role. After all those years of deciding what’s best for this little person, I can imagine that the habit is hard to break, let alone how that change must feel. It’s hard, but necessary, and with cooperation and a whole lot of patience, love, and forgiveness, it can be done.