This is when I reflect on how thankful I am that camera phones were so terrible during college. They had just become a thing, and they were still flip phones, at that. We posted most of our pictures on the Wolf Web (that were mostly scanned, or downloaded from a CD). Oh, memories. I have truly digressed here with my postpartum check-in.
Anyway, so Chase is sleeping through the night now (this is new), and I am fully aware that it could be temporary, so I'm just enjoying the sleep while I can. He is the opposite of Millie in about every way. Millie started walking at 9 months, sleeping through the night at about 7 months (consistently, no turning back). Chase just started to try to walk right around 11 months (New Years Day 2017, he finally took a string of steps[see video below]), and he's been toying with the idea of sleeping through the night since about 9 months. But has digressed many times, usually because I dare tried to travel and stay somewhere else with them, or because he caught yet another cold and coughed all night.
Millie was great at entertaining herself at 1 year old.. she would find all kinds of ways to play with 1 thing. And she didn't really bother anything if I told her, "no." I did have to chase her down off the stairs a couple times in the old house, but it's a race everyday to keep Chase off the back staircase. And he thinks that is hilarious. He is good at plundering through things to entertain himself (or throwing everything in the floor), and then he quickly gets bored or sees something Millie is doing and tries his best to interfere or do whatever she's doing. The screaming starts at that point. He is a squealer... I never had this with Millie. He will throw himself down on the floor and pitch a fit at 1 year old. ONE. I can't wait til he turns 3, which is when Millie started her tantrums. It is fascinating to see the differences.
[Millie walking, just after her 9 month birthday..]
[Millie walking, just after her 9 month birthday..]
I could rattle on all day about Millie and Chase. I will probably try to start documenting more, other than the cute quotes I put on Facebook, when Millie talks like she's 17. But really, I need to talk about MY year. The past 12 months have been hard. Not because of anything dire, but because trying to identify yourself while taking care of your [somewhat new or transforming] family is one of the toughest things to navigate. Hormones are no joke. And the things that happen to your body from conception through your child's 1 year birthday or whenever you decide to finally wean your child from depending on your body (literally) is an emotional rollercoaster. And not like "Weeee, this is FUN!"... but like "Weee, I feel like I fell off the roller coaster and it has run over me and everyone is puking and peeing and pooping everywhere, on top of it all."
This is the face of motherhood. There are the best memories you could possibly dream of, like a beautiful nap with your baby on your chest, practically trying to burrow inside you again because they just want to be close. And then there are countless nights where you cannot figure out why they are crying, and honestly - I really don't think they know either. They are just unsettled and they just have to cry. Because there were nights that I stumbled to their room out of my slumber, and changed a dry diaper, tried desperately to nurse, or rock a child that just keeps crying. Helpless isn't the term to describe when you feel like you are failing. Not failing as a whole, but in that moment, you are failing to soothe your child. And it's miserable. Beyond miserable. You are tired, they are bound to be exhausted, and you just want them to be happy, or at the very least -- content. I feel like trying to make them happy at every turn once they reach the toddler age is going to set them up for disappointment, so I've stopped trying to bend over backwards to make sure they are blissful at every opportunity. Sometimes, they will be bored and will just have to settle for a puzzle, or for coloring on their own, or for pretend playing while I *gasp* go to the bathroom.
Trying to get through this last year was exhausting and amazing. My only job currently is to be a mother and a wife, so I struggled, and still struggle, with my identity and value, not bringing in a paycheck or contributing financially. And often times, I felt and feel like I'm not contributing emotionally either. I was so tired this year that I felt like I was just going through the motions. There were times that I snapped out of it and tried to capture or appreciate certain milestones or events or moments (and most of you bore witness to those times, because I would share on FB or IG). But sometimes, I think I was doing that to kind of just bring my head above water and wave to y'all, to say "Hi - I'm still here... I haven't drowned yet." Craig would see the signs when he was here, and would typically step in and give me a break, so I could reset for a couple hours, whether that just be a joyride to the grocery store, or dinner with a friend. So I would remove the cartridge, blow the dust out, and reinsert myself back into the system to give it another go.
Once I was pregnant with Chase, and the closer I got to having him, I started realizing that I was depressed after I had Millie. It wasn't bad, but I had some awful feelings about myself during her first 6 months of life. It took watching other moms with their newborns to see the signs. She was tough. She had colic, or looking back, maybe she was just hungry with reflux, on top of it. I breastfed her and my supply was low. She had a terrible latch (probably due to frustration and hunger) and I ended up only bottle feeding BM for the last 5-6 months of her first year. But by the time I had switched to a only a bottle, I think my supply couldn't be helped with a pump so I continued feeding her what was probably not enough. She started to come out of her funk once I started her on solids, and she ate like I had starved her. It was a joke back then, but maybe I did. The doctor always chalked up her low weight to mine and Craig's small size, which makes sense. No one really knows I suppose, but regardless, it didn't help my already crazy hormones and the feeling like I was failing my child. But I never spoke of it.
It's interesting though - you feel like you're failing a child that only wants you. It's ironic how you can convince yourself that you're doing everything wrong, but they don't care. It was quite some time before she would happily go to Craig, and even longer before she would go to anyone else. She would cry if anyone else even looked at her, other than me. And that's not exaggerating! Now, she is the most social little "leader". She thrives in her little 3 day, 1/2 day preschool setting and she rarely gets a bad report when I pick her up. I never would've guessed that in my lowest of days during her first 6 months, that there would be such a dramatic turn around. And she happily tells me "bye" anytime she goes anywhere without me. Bittersweet, but I'm so glad that she's mostly happy with very little effort.
And Chase. Oh, Chase. I thought you were going to be my "easy baby" after my battle with baby Millie. And he was pretty easy the first 2-3 months, but I could tell that things would soon turn and he wasn't going to continue being "easy." Craig started traveling for work again when Chase was 5 weeks. That's code for "too soon." The resentment came fast and furious. Yes, he was out dealing with the stress of a job, which I am beyond grateful that he does -- because without him doing that, I wouldn't have the chance to stay home to see my babies grow, and get to see all of their "firsts." But those are logical thoughts... the thoughts I was having were sleep deprived and hormonal. I was home in the trenches with no break. All I could think was, "He gets to go to a hotel, and sleep without fear of ANY interruption, and he gets to eat alone with his thoughts, or with adults that didn't need to be fed by you, or coerced to eat their veggies." I was actively drowning and I felt like I had lost my voice. I didn't know how to talk about this and I didn't know how to articulate my feelings, other than being secretly angry. Although, admittedly it stopped being a secret once I would hit my breaking point. Poor Craig. I hit my breaking point several times and each time, it got easier because he knew what I needed after the first time.
I love my children beyond anything I could ever imagine, but trying to be the best you can be didn't feel good at all when you are mostly alone and having to do it all while your partner is gone. I still don't think Craig has ever successfully soothed Chase in the middle of the night (and that is by no means a shot at him - it's just a fact, and it is not his fault). It has just always had to be me (mostly due to him simply wanting to eat/nurse until he fell back asleep.) I got up one morning and it's unusual for Chase to cry at the "wake up" time - he's generally pretty happy. But Craig had got him up and he wouldn't settle after changing his diaper and whatnot. So of course, I can only handle it for so long and I go upstairs and I playfully go to Chase and say "What's wrong, bubba??" And Craig decides to speak for him and says, "Daddy doesn't have any boobies." If Chase could talk, he'd probably tell you that's a true story.
It was easy enough to get him back to sleep in the middle of the night when I had to, I suppose, but when you do this EVERY night for a year (as it turns out) - wow, what a job! I wanted to formula feed SO bad just to relieve myself for sleep purposes, but I feared he wouldn't like the formula, or it wouldn't agree with him and it would just get worse. So I would power through and count down the months, then weeks, then days until he hit his 1 year milestone. And here we are. Y'all. I am so sad about weaning. I'm almost completely dried up and it is depressing. I never dreamed I would be this sad about it. Millie's breastfeeding journey wasn't good from the start so I didn't experience this with her. Chase never had much difficulty eating so it was smooth sailing for that aspect. He's not a cuddle bug anymore so it's the only time he lets me hold him and rock him. How do I let that go?! He truly could not care less about it (other than the eating part). From what I can tell, he's not dying to be nursed by any stretch so that's not something I worry about. It's just me being selfish about keeping my baby a baby. I have noticed that he can tell the difference in breastmilk and whole milk. He will chug a bottle of breastmilk, but if you give him a bottle of whole milk... nope. He'll drink it eventually, off and on. But not like the breastmilk.
It's so hard to decipher if this means that I truly want another baby, or if I'm just a sucker for babies in general. Craig has made it no secret that he is ready to go make it permanent with Millie and Chase, if I give him the green light. I am not okay with that. The thought and finality of that decision moves me to tears. But could I handle another? I seriously almost lost my *ish* with Chase -- would I be committed to a nervous hospital the next time? To give you an an idea of where we are and how different we are on this subject -- Craig and I went to a school event for Millie and I was talking to another mom. She told us that the Lord spoke to her about having her 3rd and she just knew it was right. I looked up at Craig as if to say, "See... 3. God said so." I was half joking (sort of). And without skipping a beat and before I could say anything, Craig says, "The Lord already spoke to me. Two." I think we are lost somewhere in translation of God's word.
But to summarize this hodgepodge of thoughts, Chase is 1 and I am through another postpartum first year. I am not positive where things go from here, but I am intrigued. On days that I'm tired and I'm on my last shred of patience, I think, "Ok, 2 it is." But on days when naps are smooth and meltdowns are minimal, I get itchy with the thought of another. Craig is 40 and I think that sticks out to him the most. Although, he is in the BEST shape of his life (jerk). In all seriousness, I'm proud of him. He's really worked hard to get where he is physically, and he's worked even harder to find balance with it all and to help not to jeopardize my mental state while doing it. I'm pretty sure this universal quote says it best, "If Mama ain't happy, ain't nobody happy." Cheers to all the mamas out there - I know you don't see it, but you'd be surprised at the number of people that see a cape on your back. It's the hardest job you'll ever have, so don't be too hard on yourself on the bad days. We all have them. And chances are, they're bound to get better. At least that's what I try to tell myself as I hide in the pantry, eating snacks that I don't want to share!
Here are the babes at Chase's 1st birthday. He's saying "Give me ALLLL the cake!"
Here are the babes at Chase's 1st birthday. He's saying "Give me ALLLL the cake!"
