Saying Farewell to Mommy Guilt

There are certain things you expect when you bring home your newborn baby. You can count on a lack of sleep, a plethora of dirty diapers, and for your home to be consumed by baby gear.  Then there are the surprising things that no one tells you about. For instance, people will ask you INCREDIBLY personal questions in group settings, on conference calls, while in line at the grocery store, you name it! "Oh what a beautiful baby, are you breastfeeding?" "Such a blessing. Was it a vaginal birth or Cesarean?" Yes. I've been asked point blank about my vagina by strangers! Manners, folks! There are also the super sexy panties they give you in the hospital. No one told me that both me and the baby would be going home from the hospital in diapers. Just Google it, I'd prefer not to dwell on it. On top of those surprises there are the WIDE range of emotions you experience in your first postpartum weeks. Love, self-doubt, joy, sadness, and the most difficult for me, mommy guilt.

After 6.5 years of trying to conceive, you would think that once our little one arrived, I would settle into the bliss of motherhood, and in many ways I have. I love watching him wake up and give me a big gummy grin because he loves me and knows I'm his mama. I love listening to his cooing noises on the baby monitor when he naps during the day. I love how much he needs me and how I can calm him and soothe him when he's upset. These are all things I can say now at nearly 8 weeks home from the hospital. Weeks 1 - 5 were another story. 

Our precious man came home and was FUSSY. Wait, fussy doesn't really do it justice. At least 6 hours a day (basically when he wasn't sleeping) were spent in a struggle to nurse an angry baby who didn't want to latch or have anything to do with my boob, who was only happy once we gave him a bottle of formula (ouch to the mama ego), and still cried inexplicably even after he seemed satiated. Many nights were spend strapping him in the carseat and driving in circles around our neighborhood as it was the only activity that would stop the crying and lull him into sleep. Both me and Ken were ragged around the edges with lack of sleep, and frustration at why we were obviously sucking at this parenting gig.

It was particularly hard for me. I was completely jacked up on the roller coaster of postpartum hormones and desperately wanting to seem like I had it all together. I wanted this for so long. I didn't want to finally be a mom and fail at the task, or seem ungrateful for our amazing miracle. As is my M.O. I wanted to hide this struggle. I didn't want to ask for help. Thankfully my husband knew better. He enlisted the help of a good friend to take me and the baby to Dr.'s appointments, my family to come over and watch Arlo so I could shower or nap, and my best friend to come stay with me for a few days while I was recovering.

Eventually, after meeting with a lactation consultant and sufficiently torturing myself about it, I decided to stop trying to nurse. Arlo was unhappy and unsatisfied with my measly output and I was heartbroken at not being able to do what my body was supposed to do. It has been a tough decision to make while knowing that "breast is best". How could I not give him the best?!? Difficult as it was it was the right call for us. Instead of dreading each feeding time, I now enjoy looking down at my chubby, happy, formula fed baby while he takes his bottle. I know that we are bonding through that time much more than we were through his red-faced crying at my attempts to nurse him. We also discovered that part of his scream-a-palooza (even with the formula) was due to painful reflux and have gotten him on medicine as well as OTC gas drops. AMAZING the difference those little drops have made.

So why share all this? In a previous post, I spoke about wanting to live an authentic life. Part of that authenticity is blogging about the real-deal life stuff that most people would rather hide. It's easy to try to fake having it all together. Post sweet pictures of your baby sleeping on your Facebook and never mention that this was a brief moment of bliss in an otherwise crappy day. I'm also trying to shed a little light on the issue of mommy guilt. We beat ourselves up over whether or not we are doing everything right for our little ones and to be honest, we sit in judgement of other women if we think they aren't. There seems to be a rush post-delivery to declare your parenting style. Are you attachment parenting? Will you use the Ferber method? Co-Sleeping? Breastfeeding? Formula Feeding? Will you wear your baby in wraps and slings or push them in a stroller? There is an endless array of decisions to make and you feel that each of them will dramatically impact the development and psyche of your child. 

So what are we doing? What is our parenting philosophy? I've decided that we will be adopting the "Pro-Arlo and what works for our family" method. I'm trying to trust that I am the expert on my baby (scary thought) and no one knows him like I do. I'm also trying to let go of guilty feelings and realize that I'm giving him my very best 100% of the time. So here we are, entering our 2nd month of his precious, long-awaited life. Here's to the next milestones with this little man!

Arlo's First Month

In some ways the last month feels like a blur and in other ways, a series of precious memories in need of archiving. With the lack of sleep and adjusting to our new normal as a family of three, my blogging activity has fallen to the back burner, but I'm taking a few moments while Arlo sleeps in his baby swing to jot down some of my favorite moments of his first month:

1. Taking gratuitous photos: Yes, we are those parents, and if you follow us on Facebook or Instagram (@thosegages), you are likely on Arlo overload. We can't help ourselves. Every smile and poop face needs documentation. See exhibit A below (all photos were taken within 30 seconds and capture the many moods and expressions of baby Arlo!) 

   

   Exhibit A

2. Adjusting to little sleep: Waking up every hour to make sure he's breathing, every two hours for feeding/diaper change/reswaddle, and sometimes just sitting up watching him sleep. It's amazing how getting the first 3 hour stretch of sleep will make you feel like superwoman and capable of anything.
3. Loving my baby daddy: Ken is a rock. Period. I already knew this through our infertility journey. The man is amazing, but seeing him as a daddy has brought it to a new level. His patience and tenderness with our little man is nothing shy of beautiful. He also has taken it upon himself to make sure I'm making it through the muddle of postpartum moodiness, sleeplessness and hormone spikes. One of my favorite moments thus far was after a particularly long day home solo with a very fussy Arlo, Ken came home, ordered pizza, poured me a beer and sat across from me in the nursery while I rocked the boy, feeding me bites and sips while my hands were full. That's love and teamwork. :)
4. Singing to my baby: This little guy is going to have an appreciation for good tunes. I regularly pace the house with him singing James Taylor, The Beatles, and Carole King. I find myself tearing up half the time that I have him in my arms and can sing to him. Still surreal folks.
5. Being with family: One of the main reasons we are living in Texas now is so we could raise Arlo near his family and our friends. I've been so touched by the outpouring of love, care, and generosity of those who love us. We are beyond lucky.
6. Being okay with crying: Babies cry. It's their only communication tool, but it's no less disturbing, and heart rending to a pair of new parents. We've learned ways to soothe the little guy (thank you gas relief drops and baby Zantac) and know that this season of fuss and colic will be behind us soon.

I'm sure there are 2 dozen more moments I'm forgetting, but I only get to write in 10 minute segments and with one hand half the time. :)

Thrilled to be Arlo's mommy,

Lindsey

Crossing the finish line

Operation Baby Gage reached the finish line (or the starting block depending on how you look at it) Tuesday, February 11th at 5:56 am. Arlo Miller Gage decided to join us weighing in a hearty 8lbs 8oz and at an astounding 23.75" long. No wonder I couldn't breathe or eat at the end of my pregnancy!

Before I jump into the details, get a load of this kid:

Arlo was one week overdue and since we had a very accurate due date thanks to our IVF timeline, our doctor agreed we were good to induce at 6:30am on the 11th. Monday the 10th we had one final check at my OB's office and she requested we go ahead and check in at the hospital that evening so they could administer some ripening medication overnight to help with dilation prior to the induction. We checked in and got set up in our L&D room and met our nurses who took such loving care of us.

One of our nurses mentioned that sometimes the ripening meds can actually trigger labor and I was hoping that would be the case for us. I really didn't want to have to rely on pitocin to start a long and intense labor. Turns out I got my wish. After being dosed, contractions hit full swing, just 1 minute apart. With only about 20 seconds between contractions I was ready to call in the cavalry and opted for a blessed epidural. Hallelujah. I was able to rest for about an hour when I realized it was go time. I let my nurse know that I felt the need to push and sure enough I was ready. 7 minutes later Arlo's first cries pierced the room and my heart and life have been forever changed.

I am obviously writing this blog in a new mommy fog. We've been home two days now and are working to adjust to the new normalcy of sleep deprivation (note the time stamp on this blog), counting poop and pee diapers, and just marveling at this incredible person we are entrusted to care for and raise.

I can not say enough about my husband. I have seen an amazingly tender side of him that I always knew was there, but seeing it unfold has been no less touching. Watching him fall in love with his son is beautiful and I can't imagine a better partner. He is doting and makes sure I'm eating enough, hydrated, and sleeping as much as possible. 

So there you have it. Our birth story. I am tired, overjoyed, hormonal, giddy, sore, and at moments overwhelmed by how much I love this tiny person. (Yep, you guessed it, I'm crying while typing this). 

Operation Baby Gage will continue. It was always my hope that this blog would evolve from an infertility blog, to a pregnancy blog and now into a chronicle of our journey as new parents. Infertility is still a huge part of our story and will continue to be in the future. I am passionate about fertility issues and will continue to blog about them as well, but the focus of our world is shifting. Thank you to all of you who have walked this journey with us (physically or virtually).

40+ Weeks...Eviction Notice

Alright kiddo. Let me paint a picture for you. Your mom and dad are so ready to meet you. We have moved into a new home and decorated a sweet pad for you. You have a plethora of cuddly blankets, stimulating toys, organic cotton diapers to pamper your bum, adorable clothes to keep you comfy (all pre-washed in safe, non-toxic laundry soap) and four arms ready to hold you. 

I have dusted, vacuumed, cleaned the kitchen, pre-made frozen dinners and washed every stitch of dirty laundry in this house to give us a leg up once you arrive. You really should get here so you can see your home this clean. It probably won't be this orderly again until you're old enough to help with chores!

Everyone keeps telling me to enjoy this time with you in my belly before you arrive and I'm trying. Unfortunately, you are waking me every 45 minutes at night with an urgent bathroom run, a kick to the ribs, or just plain old fun heartburn. Mama is officially bleary-eyed and would much rather be awake at night nursing you and looking at you than bemoaning the not-so-fun side effects of late pregnancy.

As much as we fought for this pregnancy, I feel selfish to complain this late in the game, but I'm doing it. This hasn't just been a 40 week process. It's actually been 338 weeks of waiting to meet you and bring you home to our family. Don't keep your mama waiting much longer. We are READY (or as ready as any first time parents can be).  So this missive serves as your eviction notice. It's time to come meet the world and all the people who love you! 

Anxiously Awaiting Arlo

39 weeks. We are in the homestretch little man. I wanted to take a few minutes to write to you about how I'm feeling before our entire world turns upside down in a very joyous way. 

Right now I'm so eager and anxious to meet you. Sitting here feeling your knees and elbows poke and prod my belly literally makes me giddy thinking I'll be holding those tiny arms and legs very soon! Following our child birth class I was worried and nervous about the birth process, but now I'm just so excited to meet you and hold you, I'm just about over the nerves. I wish I knew exactly when you will arrive, your mama is an advance planner, something you will learn all too well!

My nesting overdrive has kicked in and your daddy is making me take it easy and rest as much as possible. I'm beginning to have what I think are Braxton Hicks contractions. Nothing regular or rhythmic enough to suggest this is the real deal, but enough to clue me in that the end/beginning is near! 

You are "due" in just 5 days and I'm secretly hoping you will arrive a little early. Your dad has joked that if you come during the Super Bowl this Sunday the birth certificate form may need to be changed to "Peyton Manning Gage" instead of your agreed upon moniker. Don't worry, that's not going to happen. :) 

When I'm not nesting or working, I've been reading everything I can get my hands on. Pregnancy books, birthing books, breastfeeding books, newborn care books, even blogs on how to deal with the poop factor in your adorable cloth diapers. I still haven't wrapped my mind around that one yet.

Last week I read through every blog entry since creating this site and marveled at the incredible journey we have been on together. I do not take for granted for a moment the miraculous nature of your very existence. I feel so fortunate and lucky to have walked through the last 9 months with you. The medications, shots, blood draws, cramps, heartburn, sleepless nights, backaches and worry have all led us to this moment, counting down the days until we see your sweet face.

Come when you're ready, but don't wait too long. We can't wait to meet you!

36 Weeks!

Tuesday Ken and I went to our OB for our 36 week ultrasound and check up. This was the first time we've both seen the little guy since our 20 week ultrasound. For those of you who have been through IF treatment you know you get used to seeing that little grayscale image every couple of weeks in the beginning, so to go 16 weeks without a glimpse has been a little tough. I have to keep reminding myself that our mother's generation didn't even have ultrasounds (or the internet) to get them through pregnancy. I shudder at the thought!

Our boy is measuring at 6.5lbs and is right around the 50th percentile for size at this point in the pregnancy. He should gain about half a pound / week leading up to birth so we're looking at a 7.5 - 8.0 lb baby. Our ultrasound tech said he's going to be a tall one too. His head is WAY down there (something I know all too well with my frequent bathroom breaks) and his feet and bottom are all the way up under my rib cage. Future basketball player? Track star? Starting QB for the Denver Broncos? Yes, those have all entered my mind. :) 

His heartbeat was strong and everything looks healthy and good to go! Perhaps the most exciting part of the ultrasound was that we finally got to see his face. In every other ultrasound he has played coy, put his hands up, or stubbornly turned around so that the most expert sonographer could not capture a profile or face shot. 

See how handsome he is already?! (Mothers are entitled to be biased even this early, right?)

It looks like he's going to have some chubby, kissable cheeks. Perhaps the most adorable thing was seeing him move his lips and mouth during the ultrasound. The entire time he looked like he was desperately trying to find a pacifier. Sweetest thing ever. And yes, I cried, because that's what I do. I'm seriously going to be a wreck the first time I hold him in the delivery room.

This weekend Ken and I have a 2-day intensive and comprehensive birthing and lamaze class to hopefully get us ready for the wild ride we will be embarking on in the next few weeks. 

We are in the final countdown and I may be going a little nuts on the nesting front. Next on the to-do list? Prepping a slew of frozen meals to get us through the first few week's of Arlo's life. If you have a tried and true recipe from the "freezes beautifully" section of your favorite cookbook, please comment and share (Yes that was a Steel Magnolias reference)!

Neuroses

Baby Arlo,

I'd like to start this missive with a bit of a confession. Your mother is sometimes (only sometimes) neurotic. Mainly when it comes to you, your well-being and care. I'm not sure if that will be soothing to you or terrifying, but you need to know that your mama can be a bit overly concerned about you. I would like to think that once you are here in my arms that some of these tendencies will calm down, but let's face it, they will likely only increase. I'll worry over a cough, or a runny nose, or your first scraped knee for at least the first several months of your life until I realize that you are strong and a trooper and able to bounce back from the inevitable boo-boos of life.

I'm not sure if my neuroses are due to the fact that it took SO long for us to get to you or if this is something that plagues all mommies. (I'd be interested in feedback on that one) I worried through bed rest that you in your tiny fragile embryonic state would nestle in and stay with us. I worried once we got our positive beta results that we would make it to see a healthy heartbeat at 7 weeks. I worried once we passed the hurdle of the first trimester that your sequential screening results would come back normal. I worried (sensing a pattern here?) through the second trimester anxious to feel your first movements and kicks.  And just when you think you're in the home stretch and that there isn't much to worry about anymore, your OB tells you about kick counts.

I woke myself from a deep slumber a few weeks ago worried that I hadn't felt you move as much that day. I walked around the living room and poked and prodded my belly until you sprang awake and started kicking me with full force (probably in an attempt to get me to leave you the hell alone). Lord help us, I've been a worry-wart, much to your father's consternation. 

Last night I had a wonderful dream. You were about 1 week old. I was running an errand (who am I kidding, I will likely not be venturing out with a 1 week old) to the store and I took you out of your carrier and you were happily snuggled in the crook of my arm. In that moment there was peace, no neurotic panic, no worries about your well-being, just a content baby boy in the arms of his mama.

I cannot wait to meet you and with just 5 more weeks until your due date I am sincerely going to focus on letting go of the worry and embracing the fact that you are real, and here with me. I love you so much already!

Mom