I worked until 7pm tonight, which means Ava was already asleep by the time I got home. This was the first time I missed out on seeing her before bedtime.
So, when she inevitably cried shortly before 8pm, it took all my self-control not to be like, "I will go! I will hold her! We will cuddle!"
No.
Be strong.
...I was. I let her cry it out for about 20 min until I went up there, pat her back 5 times and she passed out. It took all of two minutes. (Mostly because I lingered.)
And that's when I realized how I am simply meant to be a working mom. It's a strange realization because I never thought that would be me. I was raised by a stay-at-home mom and always thought I would be one myself. But being away from Ava makes me appreciate even those shitty little nighttime moments, which would otherwise make me fall apart. In fact, I feel wildly insecure whenever I have to care for her for more than one full day by myself. I know I can -- and I have before -- but it's not my natural state.
I guess being a decent parent means recognizing your own limitations -- and what makes you the best version of yourself, for your child. For me, it's my job. Even on these rare 7pm nights. I just need to keep reminding myself that that's okay.
Showing posts with label confessions. Show all posts
Showing posts with label confessions. Show all posts
Thursday, January 30, 2014
Friday, July 19, 2013
Pregnancy brain is a thing
I've always heard pregnant women talk about the dreaded "pregnancy brain," but I never thought too much about it... until I've experienced it myself. Seriously, my complete idiocy is in full force right now.
Case in point: Most people end up losing things like keys or pieces of clothing. I thought I lost one of my goddamn DOGS earlier this week.
I will explain...
Each morning, I take Elsie Ro to daycare. Monday was her first day riding in the back seat while the new car seat was in the middle. To say she was displeased is an understatement. Even worse is that one side of the back seat has more room than the other -- and I have designated that spot as Rocco's, since he's 20 pounds heavier than the Little Girl.
Anyway, after Elsie refused to get into the car and made me lift her (no big deal, I'm only 8 months pregnant), she sat on the (smaller) passenger's side and looked defeated. I started the car and began backing up, but quickly realized that I couldn't maneuver out of my parking space without moving some neighborhood trash cans. So, I got out, moved those suckers, got back in and continued on my way.
On the way to daycare, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
My dog was not there.
WHAT.
"Elsie!" I yelled, like she was going to answer me. "What the shit, dog!"
I stopped the car and completely turned around -- not an easy feat, with this stomach -- and stared at the empty passenger's side. Did she jump out while I was moving the trash cans? I wondered. Where the hell is my dog???
As panic was instantly taking over, I looked behind the driver's seat.
And there she was. Just sitting calmly, much happier on the side with more room.
Obviously. A rational person would have looked there first, before freaking out. Not me! Not with pregnancy brain! Dog isn't where I left her, so the only explanation is that she Houdini'd right outta there and is roaming the neighborhood all by herself! What a terrible mother!
This is the kind of nonsensical rationale I battle every day now. Frankly, it's a triumph if I remember to put on pants in the morning. I don't know what it is about being pregnant that makes women lose all sense of normalcy, but there you have it. Yes, pregnancy is this glamorous.
Case in point: Most people end up losing things like keys or pieces of clothing. I thought I lost one of my goddamn DOGS earlier this week.
I will explain...
Each morning, I take Elsie Ro to daycare. Monday was her first day riding in the back seat while the new car seat was in the middle. To say she was displeased is an understatement. Even worse is that one side of the back seat has more room than the other -- and I have designated that spot as Rocco's, since he's 20 pounds heavier than the Little Girl.
Anyway, after Elsie refused to get into the car and made me lift her (no big deal, I'm only 8 months pregnant), she sat on the (smaller) passenger's side and looked defeated. I started the car and began backing up, but quickly realized that I couldn't maneuver out of my parking space without moving some neighborhood trash cans. So, I got out, moved those suckers, got back in and continued on my way.
On the way to daycare, I glanced in the rearview mirror.
My dog was not there.
WHAT.
"Elsie!" I yelled, like she was going to answer me. "What the shit, dog!"
I stopped the car and completely turned around -- not an easy feat, with this stomach -- and stared at the empty passenger's side. Did she jump out while I was moving the trash cans? I wondered. Where the hell is my dog???
As panic was instantly taking over, I looked behind the driver's seat.
And there she was. Just sitting calmly, much happier on the side with more room.
Obviously. A rational person would have looked there first, before freaking out. Not me! Not with pregnancy brain! Dog isn't where I left her, so the only explanation is that she Houdini'd right outta there and is roaming the neighborhood all by herself! What a terrible mother!
This is the kind of nonsensical rationale I battle every day now. Frankly, it's a triumph if I remember to put on pants in the morning. I don't know what it is about being pregnant that makes women lose all sense of normalcy, but there you have it. Yes, pregnancy is this glamorous.
Friday, July 12, 2013
Labor
Now that I'm only about six weeks away from my due date, I've been thinking a lot about labor. Mostly how I'm going to do/survive it.
I am a huge sissy when it comes to pain. I once had period cramps so bad that I dramatically collapsed after I had yelled, "SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, LABOR CANNOT BE WORSE THAN THIS FIERY HELL I AM GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW, SOMEONE KILL ME BEFORE THE PAIN DOES."
All my mom said to me after that little display was, "Well, thank god you're not pregnant."
Except now I am. And the baby has to come out somehow. Painfully, I would imagine.
I long ago decided that I was going to get an epidural. As many as they'll let me. 55? I'm down. I understand it's a big, scary needle jabbed into your spine, but everyone says you don't care because labor is THAT BAD. Lesser of two evils. Fine, I'll take it.
But because what happens before and after that is a mystery, I remain terrified. And sure, it could be okay... Though, for every "I had the epidural and pushed for a pleasant 15 min." story I hear, it seems like there are two "I pushed for 36 hours and, just before I passed out in excruciating pain, I had an emergency C-section that chopped me in half." Gah!
As of right now, I haven't had any Braxton-Hicks contractions (I assume I'd know it if I did), so the mystery remains. As does my fear.
I am a huge sissy when it comes to pain. I once had period cramps so bad that I dramatically collapsed after I had yelled, "SWEET MOTHER OF GOD, LABOR CANNOT BE WORSE THAN THIS FIERY HELL I AM GOING THROUGH RIGHT NOW, SOMEONE KILL ME BEFORE THE PAIN DOES."
All my mom said to me after that little display was, "Well, thank god you're not pregnant."
Except now I am. And the baby has to come out somehow. Painfully, I would imagine.
I long ago decided that I was going to get an epidural. As many as they'll let me. 55? I'm down. I understand it's a big, scary needle jabbed into your spine, but everyone says you don't care because labor is THAT BAD. Lesser of two evils. Fine, I'll take it.
But because what happens before and after that is a mystery, I remain terrified. And sure, it could be okay... Though, for every "I had the epidural and pushed for a pleasant 15 min." story I hear, it seems like there are two "I pushed for 36 hours and, just before I passed out in excruciating pain, I had an emergency C-section that chopped me in half." Gah!
As of right now, I haven't had any Braxton-Hicks contractions (I assume I'd know it if I did), so the mystery remains. As does my fear.
Tuesday, June 18, 2013
Work and worries
I've officially worked out my maternity leave schedule. And it feels good/terrifying all at once.
My last day of work will be August 16, six days before I'm due. I'll return just after Thanksgiving, on December 2. That sounds like a long, long time -- though I've been told I can always call them to come back earlier if I want to.
This may sound ridiculous, but I'm nervous about being away from work for any amount of time. I really enjoy my job (not to mention the amazing and talented women I get to work with). What if I don't enjoy my baby as much? Is that totally taboo to say?
It is, I know it. But it is something I wonder, seconds before I feel like a terrible person for even having that thought pop into my mind.
I just don't want to lose my editorial edge. (Despite the stream-of-consciousness you read here, I am actually a professional writer and I know how to "turn off" my own nonsense.) I also don't want to forget how to speak to another adult. And I don't want to miss out on any big professional changes if/when they happen. In general, I don't like feeling out of the loop and being gone for three months is a surefire way to make that happen.
On the flip side, I also want to enjoy being a mom while I'm home. I'm not sure how that works with the lack of sleep, sore boobs and never-ending stream of literal shit, but people say something changes when you have the baby. You have this unexplainable bottomless pit of unconditional love for that little being and your heart just overflows with it. Perhaps less so at 3 in the morning, but it's always there nonetheless.
I hope that happens for me. And I hope that I can really appreciate my time at home. I do know how lucky I am to be in the situation I'm in, about to welcome a child while having an incredible job waiting for me to return. I just can't help but wonder and worry about how the reality will actually play out. I guess time will tell.
My last day of work will be August 16, six days before I'm due. I'll return just after Thanksgiving, on December 2. That sounds like a long, long time -- though I've been told I can always call them to come back earlier if I want to.
This may sound ridiculous, but I'm nervous about being away from work for any amount of time. I really enjoy my job (not to mention the amazing and talented women I get to work with). What if I don't enjoy my baby as much? Is that totally taboo to say?
It is, I know it. But it is something I wonder, seconds before I feel like a terrible person for even having that thought pop into my mind.
I just don't want to lose my editorial edge. (Despite the stream-of-consciousness you read here, I am actually a professional writer and I know how to "turn off" my own nonsense.) I also don't want to forget how to speak to another adult. And I don't want to miss out on any big professional changes if/when they happen. In general, I don't like feeling out of the loop and being gone for three months is a surefire way to make that happen.
On the flip side, I also want to enjoy being a mom while I'm home. I'm not sure how that works with the lack of sleep, sore boobs and never-ending stream of literal shit, but people say something changes when you have the baby. You have this unexplainable bottomless pit of unconditional love for that little being and your heart just overflows with it. Perhaps less so at 3 in the morning, but it's always there nonetheless.
I hope that happens for me. And I hope that I can really appreciate my time at home. I do know how lucky I am to be in the situation I'm in, about to welcome a child while having an incredible job waiting for me to return. I just can't help but wonder and worry about how the reality will actually play out. I guess time will tell.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)