The Gift of Change

There are a lot of people who would not consider 'change' as a gift. I probably would have counted myself with these people before I faced the biggest change that I have ever faced before.
When I found out that I had been given the privilege of growing a human inside me, that God was going to let me be a mommy to, I had lots of emotions. Excitement. Worry. Fear. Anxiety.
 I am a planner. A fierce planner. So, naturally, I began planning for all of the things that would need to change when this tiny human came into the world. At the time, my tiny human was the size of a poppy seed so some would say that my plans were premature but, I was set on preparedness. I spent the next 9 months doing what I thought was 'planning'. I registered at baby stores, I arranged to have baby showers, I designed and decorated a nursery, I washed very tiny clothing in very special detergent, I bought really cute nursing tops, I wrote thank you notes, I installed a carseat in my car, and packed a SERIOUS hospital bag. I was ready.

Boy, was that a joke.
On December 6th at 5:34 pm I realized all my planning was never going to have me 'ready' for the changes that would come with being a mom and, in essence, being charged with keeping a very tiny, very needy, person happy and alive. Again, there were the emotions. Excitement. Worry. Fear. Anxiety.
Those days in the hospital were peachy. I still had pain meds (I wasn't trying to be a hero, I said bring on the drugs). I had a whole staff of medical professionals to help care for the tiny human and myself. I had a nursery where the tiny human could be cared for and looked after while I slept.
I was in utopia.

Then, we went home.
The meds wore off. My husband was my nurse. There was no nursery to care for my tiny human. I was EXHAUSTED, in pain, and COMPLETELY lost. Oh yeah, and the tiny human was hungry all the time and cried alot.
oh, crap. I had planned. What was the plan again??!

Over the next few weeks I realized a few things and became a little less ignorant to the world of caring for a tiny person. I would like to share A FEW of those things with you now...

1. Its about survival. You will not be perfect, get over it. You do not live on a TV show. Hollywood has lied to you. You will probably not look cute while changing your child's cute diapers, in the cute nursery, on their cute changing pad. Instead, you will most likely have not showered in 48 hours, have circles under your makeup-less eyes, and be changing the child on your bed as you sit sideways due to your body still healing after bringing forth this little butt you currently wipe into the world. Its ok. Just survive. You are doing great.

2. Breast feeding is the flippin' hardest thing, EVER. Now, I should have known this. I mean, having something attached to your boob every 2 hours while you provide the only source of nutrition they can have should have been an obvious "this is no joke" to me, but it wasn't.  My sugar ended up not being able to solely breast feed because of being 'tongue tied' which gave me supply issues along with making it difficult for him to get the milk out. I was devastated. For me, breast feeding was a source of pride, judgement, and pressure. All of these things I put on myself.
Pride- I felt like I was super mom for breast feeding. When the nurses at the hospital asked if little Sugar would be breast or bottle fed I proudly said breast and patted myself on the back.
Judgment- This is something I experienced both sides of. I ignorantly judged mothers who chose to bottle feed. I thought for some reason that I was better than them because I was doing what "I was supposed to do" It was only weeks later when visiting a lactation consultant due to little sugar not gaining weight that I experienced what it felt like to be judged. I was sitting there very vulnerable and very defeated as she told me that my son was what they call 'tongue tied' thus causing his lack of weight gain. She said everything would be fine and that I just had to keep at it and get his tongue clipped. When I told her I would like to supplement with formula until we could get his tongue fixed because I was worried about his lack of weight gain, I got 'the look'. I knew the look because I had very ignorantly dished it out before I knew anything about being a mom or being the sole food source for a person. Why did this person get to judge me? Was she the one who was feeding a child with no weight gain to show for it every 2 hours for 40 minutes day and night? Was she my sugar's mama? No. No, she wasn't. I'm the mom. I decide whats best. So there you boob feeding pusher.
Pressure- "Breast is Best" did you know that is plastered on every box of infant formula?? It mocked me everytime I made a bottle for little sugar. I wanted to explain myself to the mocking box of formula. I wanted to tell it that I had tried and had tried very hard. I wanted to tell it that I didn't sleep for weeks trying. I wanted to tell it that it wasn't my fault that I couldn't breast feed the way I wanted. I felt so much pressure to do "what was best"
In the end, my older sister (who shall be called 'Legit supermom' from here on out) gave me some great advice. Give yourself some grace. I needed to get over my imperfections and focus on what was important. Was the little sugar being fed? Yes. Was he happy? Yes. Was he putting on weight? Yes. Does he have any idea that he is consuming formula instead of breast milk? No.
You are doing alright. Grace. Give yourself some grace.

3. Husband = Hero. I was tired. I was sore. I was emotional. I was VERY unattractive. Yet, my Mr. was ON HIS GAME. He was sent to CVS countless times to buy many, many things that no man should ever have to buy for a woman. He never complained. He never expected thanks. He just got it done. As if this weren't enough, he cared for the tiny human in between all feedings in an effort to provide me with a little sleep. Hero. I thanked God for the blessing of my husband everyday. Let me take a minute here to give a shout out to all the single moms who manage to do it all by themselves. You ladies deserve a cape. Real talk.

4. The saddest day ever was the one where Mr. Hero returned to work. Okay, when his allotted two weeks were over and Mr. went back to work I cried. I cried A LOT.
Now, to be fair, I was crying a lot anyway. I was freaking out that I was going to be the sole caregiver for little sugar. In other words, to me, I was going to be a single mom from 8 am to 5:30 pm everyday. If you recall from #3 above, those people need a cape. I was cape-less. I was like a small child holding on to their parents leg screaming and crying as they drop them at daycare as he walked out the door. I was alone. All alone. The loneliness was the hardest part especially if you are an extrovert like myself.  I found myself making trips to Target just to be among the living. It got better and I became more confidant in my abilities to keep little sugar alive all on my own. However, everyday at 5 o'clock I could not contain my excitement that Mr. would be home very, very soon.

5. Do NOT Google. Google will convince you that both you and your child are dying.Thus, making you a crazy person. Stay away from it.

6. You will take 1,254,856,721 pictures of your child a day. This is not an exaggeration. It is outrageous. however, they do this growing thing that is very very sad and you will be so glad you have 2,456 pictures of you child in the same position, same day, same outfit, and same look. So snap away.




7. I still have no idea what I am doing, but I am learning more everyday. Which is why I am so thankful for this gift of change.
I have changed the way I think. I have changed the way I go about everyday. I have changed diapers and clothes. I have changed for the better. I am a mom now.

I'll keep you posted on what I figure out from here...