Sleep(less)

In my infant development class in grad school, we read an article about different cultural approaches to babies' sleep. I remember loving the idea of letting babies stay with the parents and family members and letting them sleep when they were tired wherever they happened to be. And then I promptly forgot about that study as infant sleep was not a primary area of interest for me.

It is now what I think about most...

I have read 5 sleep books (all of which have different advice), I have spoken with a sleep consultant (that is a real thing, people), and I have had numerous conversations with friends and with William.

I don't know what to do. 

At 7 pm when I put her in her bed, I think about how precious she is and immediately go to gaze at her on the monitor.

At 7:30 pm when she wakes up, I think "Why in the world are you awake? Can't I at least eat dinner and take a shower?"

At 9 pm when we stop trying to put her in her own room and snuggle into bed together, I inhale her baby lotion scent, and I wish to cuddle with her forever.

At 6 am after co-sleeping with her and waking for feedings at 11 pm, 1 am, 3 am, and 5 am, I want nothing more than for her to sleep through the night in her own bed.

And during the rest of the day, I wonder why she will not take longer than a 45 minute nap.

I don't know what to do.

I hear other parents talking about how after one week of hell, the cry it out method worked wonders. But then we let her for 5 minutes and all I can think of is how alone she must feel and how terrible we must be. 

I read about "no-cry sleep solutions" and I just get even more tired.

I think, I will just co-sleep and nurse until she is bigger, but then I think that I will never have a good night's sleep again.

I think the most important thing is that she sleeps. Then I think, the most important thing is that she learns to self-soothe and self-regulate. Then I think, the most important thing is that she knows we are there for her. 

I don't know what to do.

I think about parents with sick children or who have lost children and how they would love to have a "normal" night of just waking up for night feedings.

I think about parents who work 100+ hours a week and then get up in the middle of the night with their babes.

And I feel guilty for being so tired and so lost.

And I don't know what to do.

It will come, right? Eventually we will all sleep through the night? Eventually Will and I will be able to lift ourselves out of the new parent fog? Right?

Oh, please say it will.

A letter to our girl

Dear Fiona,

Over the course of your life, you will hear me talk a lot about your power as a woman, what femininity can look like, and how capable you are. We will have conversations about gender roles and stereotypes and how you can break down harmful barriers and stretch boundaries. We will probably even say things like “boys are stupid” when hormones and feelings are a little too much to bear. You will hear me say to my sisters and friends that men just don’t understand what it is like be a women and experience the pressures of all that surrounds that word. And you will even hear me express frustration, anger, and sadness in reaction to something your dad has said or done.

But for now let me say that there are good men in the world, and your father is one of them.

As we approach the halfway mark to your first year of life, I want you to know how much your father loves you and how hard he works to make a good life for you.

He sings to you in the morning when all I can muster is a grumpy “why don’t you want to sleep longer” expression.

He loves to feed you, even if it means he gets sweet potatoes all over his shirt (and the table, the floor, the high chair, you, etc.).

He changes all types of diapers, giggling with you as he does it.

He loves to cover you in bubbles at bath time.

He gets excited about brining you home “surprises” like rice cereal or a mustache pacifier.

He has slept with you in his arms countless times and will secretly mourn the day when you no longer want to do so.

His phone is full of your pictures, and he will gladly talk with anyone about how cute you are (which is a big deal for your introverted, I hate small talk dad).

He has teared up more in the last 6 months than I have seen him do in the past 5 years.

He lives for your smile, your laugh, your head nuzzle on his shoulder.

He works hard to make sure we have the basics like food and shelter, and some bonuses like grilled pizza.

He will stand up for your rights as a person, and encourage you to stand up for the civil rights of others.

He will teach you about financial security, rhetoric, how to try your best, and how to relax on a Sunday afternoon.

He will protect you fiercely and worry about you constantly.

He is a good dad, and you, my dear, are the light of his life. And I am so grateful for that. 

Being Good

One of my thesis and dissertation committee members has a poster on her office door. It reads, "There are bad grades, bad hair days, and bad choices, but there is no such thing as a bad kid." I always liked its message, but didn't spend time really reflecting on it until having my own child.

Fiona has been a world traveler (okay...southern USA traveler) in her first four months. She has already made two trips to Louisiana, time with friends and family in Arkansas, a day trip to Mississippi, a series of flights to see family in South Carolina, a sleepover with friends in North Carolina, and a series of flights to a conference in Texas. For the most part, she really does take these in stride... sleeping, nursing, smiling, and only a little bit of fussing. She is extremely curious and just watches everyone and everything around her.

What has struck me though on these trips is not her easy-going attitude. Instead, it is how many people say "oh, your baby is so good" when they mean "thank goodness your baby is not crying".

Now don't get me wrong, I am so glad she is not a screaming traveler (at least not yet...I have been warned that even the quietest little ones will have a meltdown at some time). But is that what makes her "good"? Would she not be good if she were the screaming child on the plane? (Don't get me started on my rant about adults being angry at screaming babies on a plane...)

Isn't she good in and of herself?

Isn't she good because she is a person?

Isn't she worthy of love, affection, and respect just because?

Isn't there a difference between essence and behavior?

Isn't it good for her to be able to express her distress in addition to expressing her contentment?  

I hope as she grows that she knows she is good as is, bad choices and behavior and all. I wonder if we all started treating each other and ourselves as good people (who yes do bad things occassionally and should take responsibility for those decisions and actions) there would be less shame and less destructive behavior aimed at escaping that shame. Oh, if only.

...

(And because mostly everyone likes baby pictures...here are some from our trips this summer.)

 Sleeping with Nana in Shreveport

 Hanging with cousin Gracie in Arkansas

  Chilling with daddy in Hilton Head

And extra tired parents and baby in San Antonio (isn't it weird how babies sleep with their eyes open sometimes?!)

Good intentions

For those of you who know me, you know that I have been on the "green" bandwagon for a while. I recycle, take my own grocery bags, try to eat local and seasonal, hang dry all of our laundry, walk or bike when possible, buy things second-hand, etc.

So, I figured that when we had a baby, we would still do those things and more. We would cloth diaper. We would move to even more organic food. We would not acquire a lot of stuff.

Oh, how I have learned.

The day we came home from the hospital I said to William, "let's do paper plates for a while", as the idea of doing dishes overwhelmed me. I even said (gasp!), "let's not recycle for a while" (we have to drive the recycling to a collection center). We used disposable diapers, which was good because she pooped after every feeding. Because family was there to help us out, I didn't want to take up space or time line drying our clothes. When you are lucky to actually eat dinner at all, then a frozen pizza with some spinach thrown on it counts as a healthy meal. And the stuff... oh my goodness, the stuff that came with this baby. I do know that we don't have as much stuff as we could have, but still...there is baby stuff everywhere and we keep buying more.

We have finally settled back into some practices that better fit our values. We are using cloth diapers (but disposable when traveling and at night). We are recycling. We are sometimes using our grocery bags, though those are forgotten more often than not. We are beginning to eat real food again, at least most of the time...though, I haven't made it to the farmer's market yet. And I still use the dryer for the laundry, cause ain't nobody got time for that line dryin' stuff right now.

But I guess this is how it goes right? There are different phases of life, times to adjust and find a new normal... you do what you can and try to show kindness to others and yourself and try to remember to stop taking this stuff so seriously.

At least babies are good at reminding you of this... cause really what else are you going to do when you see that smile...

A non-baby related post!

I actually baked.

We did not eat an actual dinner that night, but I actually baked.

Our neighbors upstairs got our mail and watered our plants while we were out of town. And in response to their kindness, I forgot to get them a thank you gift.

So instead I made them a blueberry pie.

It is not quite blueberry season yet, so I am sure it wasn’t as good as it could have been. Although as I learn to accept “good enough”, the fact that it smelled scrumptious is enough for me.

I also did not get a picture of it, but here is the recipe. The thing that I love about it is the lemon juice and zest. It adds a little tart to the sweetness and juiciness of the blueberries and cup of sugar. Also, I did a lattice crust cause it is prettier and I don’t do egg washes cause it is too much work for little payoff. (And this is easy to veganize...just substitute ghee for the butter and leave off the egg wash.)

What does it mean to parent?

I recently listened to a TED talk about expectationsfor parenting and the anxiety they can produce. While I am not sure that I agree with everything the speaker says, I know there is truth in letting go of the expectations of being a perfect parent and believing children are competent and resilient.

At one point, the speaker shares a picture of parenting section at a bookstore, commenting how you can find a never-ending list of books for how to raise a ________ child. I confess I have read many of these books and have many more stored on my fancy new kindle. I know I should probably stop reading them. But how do I stop when my vocation and occupation are all about child development and education? And what about how I find them endlessly fascinating? Aren’t those good reasons to read the books? Isn’t the problem really my expectations of myself rather than the information in and of itself? Or is there something to having too much information? How does that shape our expectations and actions? Is there a healthy balance?

...

I have been looking for ways to work through and reduce my anxiety... yoga, walking, breathing, identifying anxious thoughts before they snowball into my imagined worst-case scenarios. These are helping, but they don’t really address the fear that underlies my anxiety and slight obsession with parenting books. I am terrified of being a bad parent.

If you asked me what I mean by bad parent though, I don’t really have an answer. Is it failing my child in some undefinable way? Is it pushing her too much or too little? Is it not giving her the opportunities she needs? Is it not finding the balance between interdependence and autonomy? (I could go on.)

I think I found the response to all of this on Facebook of all places. A friend with two of the cutest, smartest, sweetest, and feistiest children I know posted something off hand about feeling like a bad parent. She then commented that at the end of the day all she really wanted for her children was for them to be relatively clean, kind to others, and able to think critically.

This made me think. What are our goals for Fiona? What do we want her to know and be and do? I keep feeling that if we have just a few essential goals, then I can have more realistic expectations and I can remember what is most important in the midst of those daily parenting decisions.

But where do we start? I want so much for her. I want so much for us.

I don’t even know its origin (excuse my whole mush brain thing), but I found this list of what children need....

·      Unconditional love and affection

·      Support

·      Respect and acceptance

·      Voice, identity, and agency

·      Consistency

·      Security

I have decided I can get behind this. This allows us the freedom to define what these look like for us and makes me feel like we are meeting her needs. I can have expectations that work for our family and not get distracted by the all of the noise out there.

So, here it is. At the end of the day I want her to know:

·      she is loved and be able to love

·      she has our support and can support others

·      she is deserving of respect and can be respectful of others

·      she has her own, capable voice and can listen to the voices of others

·      she can count on us and be counted on

·      she is safe and can be a safe place for others

It is still a lofty list, but I feel like it is more manageable than a vague notion of the good parent. We won't do it right every day, but we will show up with love and guide her as best we can. 

Mothering

It might be a surprise, but I am not a big holiday person. I like Halloween -mostly for an excuse to play dress up, and I love the Christmas season - because I have an excuse to sing cheesy songs, watch sappy movies, bake cookies, and consume copious amounts of hot chocolate. (Really, I should just live in a musical.)

Now, don't get me wrong. I love hanging out with family, eating yummy foods, and getting/giving presents. Not working is pretty good too. But other than Christmas, I just don't need a lot of holiday hype.

I have mixed feelings when I consider my first Mother's Day. After my daughter, my first thought is for all of the women out there who want to be mothers but aren't. I think about how I felt on Mother's Day after my miscarriage and before I was pregnant with Fiona...desperately wanting a child and not knowing if it would happen.

Or I think about children who have been neglected or abused by their mothers, or those who have lost a mother. I think about the mothers who have lost children and what pain they must feel on this day.

So here I sit, looking at my precious daughter, with grateful tears in my eyes, and wonder about mothering.

I came across this phrase the other day in the book "Daring Greatly": my mothering is bigger than...

The idea is that mothering is bigger than one decision or action. While this thought is extremely comforting to me, the mother who gets unnecessarily anxious about my child's long term development, I think it is incomplete.

Maybe it is the word...
Maybe it is the pressure to be the perfect mother...
Maybe it is the expectation put on women to be mothers even if they can't or don't want to...
Maybe it is me learning to incorporate this new role into my understanding of myself...

I am not sure. But I feel like on this day that we celebrate mothers, that it should really be a celebration of women, of the feminine. A celebration of nurturing and sustenance. A celebration of sacrifice and strength. A celebration of teaching and learning.

So today, I celebrate the connection I have with other women, especially those who have nurtured me through various times of my life and who have already nurtured my daughter. I thank you for all that you have bestowed upon me. I hope to bless others as you have blessed me.

Happy day of mothering to each of you.