I really need to get better about more regular posting, if for no other reason than to help keep track of and sort all the chaos in my head.
Flynn will be 5 months old next week.
Five. Months.
Didn't we just bring him home yesterday?
The 1st of May I went back to work and the night before I cried and cried. More like sobbed until I felt ill and then I barely slept. The next day I was much improved though still a little shaky around the edges, only shedding a few tears here and there. I already felt settled back into routine, for the most part, by the day after though a lingering hint of upset stomach has plagued me every single day since. Nothing can fix the fact that every fiber of my being screams over all of the time I'm missing with our son.
Now, that isn't to say Clif isn't doing a great job at being Mr. Mom, because he is, he is wonderful with Flynn, but getting to be a stay at home mom has been my dream for as long as I can remember. More than reaching some corporate goal, more than the type of house I'd one day own or ideas of the man I'd one day marry... staying home to raise our children has always been a constant wish for me. I've had to shelve that dream, however, in support of Clif building and owning his own company. It was, for all intents, an easy call to make: I love my husband and I will support him no matter what in any and every way I can, but I would be lying if I said it was without any remorse or wishing we could do things a little differently. As it stands it's my job (that I am beyond blessed to have and love) that brings a consistent paycheck that pays for our home and provides us with health insurance. I was very fortunate to have 3 months of paid maternity leave, that's a lot more than many people get, but having to return to work was much harder for me than I thought it would be. Again, I'm blessed to have and love this job, I just wish I could have and love it again when Flynn is ready to go to school...
My brain has been a tumultuous, chaotic cluster of emotion and confliction since coming home from the hospital as a family of three (6 if you count the furkids). I wake up in the morning when I hear Flynn starting to stir, change his diaper and nurse him in bed in the quiet gray post-dawn light, possibly my favorite part of the day. Then we settle back into bed so he can sleep for another couple of hours and I can catch a few more snoozing minutes before heading to work. When I get home in the afternoon I try to get a couple of things done as quickly as possible (put away the pumped milk, go to the bathroom, put on comfy clothes and loose the bra) while I still have two hands, hug and kiss Clif then snatch up that beautiful baby boy just as soon as I can where I will proceed to hold, kiss, cuddle, play with and feed him until he goes to bed a paltry 2 to maybe 4 hours later. It's just not enough.
It isn't easy, either, and while I never had any delusions having children would be easy I underestimated how difficult it would be to multitask or complete even the simplest of functions. A lot of that has to do with my desire to spend every uncluttered, uninterrupted second I can with Flynn. I hate to feel like I'm a flake, to have a never-ending list of things to do nagging in the back of my mind, to be wishy-washy on my ability to make plans and respond to communications in twice as much time as it should normally take. For the delay in my actions I am sorry but I will never apologize for my choice at making Flynn my absolute priority. In trying to cling to as much time as I can get hardly anything else gets done, which is stressful for me.
Internal conversation with Flynn: It will be great when you can sit up and entertain yourself for longer periods of time. But take your time! You're so sweet and little and wonderful just as you are this moment. Though, having a little more strength and independence isn't a bad thing, I might be able to get something else around this house done. Don't grow too fast, though! I want to savor each second with you and if that means the dishes pile up in the sink so I can snuggle your sweet cheeks then they can pile all the way to the moon. That makes it harder to cook and eat, though, and that is frustrating and stressful for me, not to mention all the other dozens of chores that need to get down around here. Think you could just hang out right over there with your toys for five, maybe ten minutes so we can have some dinner and vacuum? If you would rather nurse and snuggle instead that is fine! I totally can have dinner whenever you go to bed and at least we don't have to feed the dust bunnies... You are so beautiful to me, I could just sit here for ever and shower you with smiles and kisses, blissfully holding your tiny hand.
Since I mentioned it, let's talk about nursing...
I don't think I'll ever know for absolute certain the reason my production is so low and we are continuing to fight the hard fight but I am pretty sure at least a fair chunk of it happened from that whole allergy incident the day after he was born and I ended up in ICU without him to nurse or a breast pump for almost 24 hours was an event I just never fully recovered from. As a result nursing has been difficult. Flynn still refuses to nurse without use of a shield and not just with a "*sigh* Yeah, I guess I can try but I really prefer the device", he refuses with back arching, shoving, pouty-lipped, red-faced screams of rage. Seriously. If I get anywhere near him with a shieldless breast he thinks acts like I'm torturing him. Unfortunately he is not a fan of the nursing cover, either (I don't blame him, it's hot and uncomfortable!) but he can't have it both ways. If he insists on the shield I insist on the cover as there isn't any other way I can keep myself from flashing the entire world without it. I would LOVE to be able to nurse him unobtrusively wherever we happen to be without having to get out several pieces of equipment but that just isn't in the cards for us. Piled on top of the fact that during my work days I am only managing to pump maybe, MAYBE a single bottle's work of milk for him I've been starting to question my decision to continue to struggle.
Internal conversation with myself: This is so hard and frustrating and HOT and when he fights it you end up having to fight back tears and feelings of failure and wishes we could re-do that first stupid day. Why do you keep putting us through this? At least half, if not more, of his daily intake is formula anyway. But it's better for him! It's like liquid gold! Yes, it's got great things and you're an avid supporter of breastfeeding, but is it really worth all of the stress and anxiety? The hoops we have to jump through? It is when we don't have to worry about propriety. When it's just us and it works it's one of my absolute favorite moments. I never thought I'd say it but I LOVE nursing. It's only easy first thing in the morning and when you get home from work and even then you end up having to 'top him off' with formula because he isn't getting enough from you. By the way, that tiny bit you've been pumping? Every day there's a little bit less, no matter how many herb supplements you take and water you drink. You're drying up. But even if it's just a little bit or only 1-2 of his meals it is so worth it! It's worth the bonding and it's worth him getting every drop I can produce. For that benefit I'll keep fighting for it. I'm not ready to give up nursing him! It's bad enough I have to leave him 5 out of 7 days, I'm not ready to lose this, too. You may not want to lose it but your body has other plans and it is moving forward no matter how you feel about it.
Imagine, by the way, all these italicized bits as an endless stream of agonizing run-on sentences on repeat. Every day. All day. Like running to the end of a dangerously overstretched rubber band and snapping back only to run back the direction from which I'd just come. For every thought there is a visceral gut counter-thought which breeds yet another thought in opposition and back again and so on and so forth...
In the midst of this self-imposed prison of anxiety and discomfort I struggle with unbidden horrors that pop into my head, especially with the recent story of infants being left in the cars. I can't even with that. My sister shared a story years ago about that happening and they found the baby too late. He had ripped out all of his own hair... that story back then made my gut twist and I have as intense response to thinking about it now as I did when she first told me. It brings tears to my eyes every single time it invites itself into my head but now I think about that baby with Flynn's face. I can't help it. I can't stop it, though I wish I would. To cope I think how glad I am I have such a strong tool to help me remember to always check the car before I leave it. Beyond that particular event every story ever that has a child in it makes me think of Flynn and brings me to tears. It destroys me and all I want to do is pick him up, hold him tight and never let him go.
I'm mentally and emotionally exhausted. So far we've been getting good sleep (thanks be!) but to make up for not having as much physical exhaustion I have a lot of physical pain. My body between my jaw and my shoulder blades screams at me 24-7 for some kind of relief that I don't know how to give so I just soldier through and tune it out. Almost every movement hurts but I push it aside, I have more important things to do.
I don't think I need advice to fix these issues, though I am always glad for the support and ideas on how other people cope with similar issues, as much as I just need to purge all these things that are building up. I think back to a post I wrote not long before Flynn was born and how I was worried I wouldn't feel the intense love that so many mothers talk about feeling upon meeting their child for the first time and laugh because I feel it, man. I feel that all-consuming love so much sometimes I wish it would ease up, just ever so slightly, and just for a moment or two to let me catch my breath.
(left as written, unedited in its rambling, crazy presentation because that is where I am.)
