Last year, July was my D-Day month. I was due on July 23 to become a mother. I fully expected to pass right into August without a baby in my arms, but my little bean came on July 28 in the middle of the night after a very long labor and delivery. Those early moments impressed upon my heart a need for grace and a heart spring of gushing unconditional love. The days in the hospital for recovery were so special to me and my new title as mom. I kept close eye on my baby boy and probably seemed a little psychotic to the nurses trying to get his vitals because I didn't let him out of my sight. Nope, I wanted him close to me at all times. I couldn't get enough of this gushing love human. I never will be the same. From those first moments throughout this first year, I have learned about mothering, the bond of motherhood, and how to survive it all.
I learned that motherhood is a shared bond with all moms everywhere.
It doesn't matter where we are, moms find each other. For new mom's it's like we are being inducted into this whole new world of mom-dom. It's a point of contact where mom's know mom's. For-the-most-part, it is a judge free zone of bonded woman raising the world one child at a time. New moms need therapy. I needed to gush my story over and over. I needed friends who understood and I was graced with just that. If you aren't a mom, maybe you don't understand why we spend most of our time this first year talking about our new babies. The little squirts that changed our 9-5, body shape, sleep schedule, date nights, sex lives, friendships, grocery shopping, any shopping, and everything else we deem mundane or important. In the deep of newborn, it's a tunnel leading to a new normal. The first few weeks I learned what it meant to be needed every two hours around the clock with no breaks. N-a-d-a. I was learning this all while recovering from 9 months of pregnancy, 68 hours of labor, 3 hours of intense pushing, 2 hours of devastating c-section, c-section recovery, then at 6 week postpartum 1 night in the ER, 4 days in the hospital, 1 gallbladder removed, and another surgery recovery. I didn't mention hormone imbalance, night sweats, engorged breasts, latch watch, mastitis, water intake, swollen legs, bedside restrictions, bleeding, showering, and braving the bathroom again.
Who rules the world? Moms. Why? Because the second you become a mom you have to learn the balance and juggle caring for someone else and yourself simultaneously. No breaks. Newborns breastfeed typically every two hours, but sometimes cluster feed every hour or less. Let's break it down. If I was breastfeeding at 8:05 am, Wells may feed as a newborn for 45 minutes ending this session at 8:50 am just to be ready again at precisely 10:05 am. Every two hours is no joke. I learned to breastfeed everywhere and anywhere. Out at dinner, any given parking lot, church, the grocery store, Nordstrom (I love Nordstrom's mother's room), on an air plane, while wearing my baby, at friends houses, in front of family, in front of strangers, and everywhere else in between. Oh, thats not all. The learning curve of breastfeeding isn't as natural as one may think. Actually, it takes work. And, it hurts. Clogged milk ducts, swollen breasts, warm and cold compresses, crisp cabbage wraps, hand expression, nip cream, leaking breasts, let downs, blisters, epsom salt breast soaks, breast pads, mastitis... Oh did you think you will wear a supportive bra for these engorged milk sacks? No, that may clog your ducts instead wrap them lightly with cloth and for the bigger chested mom's like myself, do not assume any shirts will fit. My boobs looked like two worlds floating around my upper body. In all reality, I wanted to go to church six days postpartum but couldn't find anything to hold my boobs in and look normal. Are you getting the picture. I learned all of this first hand in a sleep-deprived-hormone-coma sweating-like-there-is-no-tomorrow all the while greeting guests and hosting family from out of town. It took me two months to get a handle on breastfeeding with no problems. Breastfeeding isn't just to make others feel uncomfortable and organically nourish your baby. It takes guts, determination, and time. In the long run, it is beyond beautiful and extremely convenient. A few months in, we developed a groove and cut those 45 minute feedings to 5 or 10. I still breastfeed a lot like 8-9 times daily and have no plans to ween just yet. My breast aren't as massive as those postpartum days, the pain is gone, and it is a wonderful convenience especially living without a kitchen these past few months.
I learned how to shop all over again.
I missed sleep & shopping the most during my pregnancy. Shopping was completely different trying to accommodate a growing belly. I actually loved being pregnant and figured out outfits fairly easy, but I completely missed my normal go-to's. I was thinking all along the way, once I was not pregnant anymore all I wanted to do was go shopping! And in my head, it would be wonderful and redemptive. What I didn't consider in this process was the fact that your needs change once you are postpartum and breastfeeding. For me, I felt like I shriveled up to nothing after having Wells. I actually needed to gain weight to help with breastfeeding and staying healthy. I gained 27lbs during pregnancy and at 7 weeks postpartum was 38lbs lighter, 9lbs under my pre-pregnancy weight. So, I had no problem eating every few hours and gained a healthy 5 pounds back which I'm still kind of sad I had to do at the time. I'm was shopping for this postpartum body that had brought forth an almost 10 pounder on a 5 feet tall frame. I was looking for easy breast access so either button down or loose enough to pull up easily. No dresses. Skirts didn't seem right. I wore baggier clothing postpartum to fit in my breasts than I ever did pregnant.
I learned the need to figure out how to be alone again.
After I fully recovered from surgery 1 (c-section delivery) and surgery 2 (gallbladder removal), I went out one night all by myself. It felt strange but good like I was breathing different air. I felt free but empty. Empty because I was alone. I went to the mall and filled my arms in desperation with cheap easy-access shirts at the dreaded Forever 21. I bought a dozen and headed to target. I was rushing the entire night with the thought that this is my time to do whatever I want and there is no time to waste. Two hours on the dot and I made in back home to greet my little bean with kisses and a feeding. Over time, I have become better at taking time to myself and not rushing through it like there is no tomorrow. I still deal with not fully relaxing when I'm away from my boys. Ted will take wells out or I will go out, halfway through I'll just wonder what they are doing. I find whatever I'm doing - whether it be reading a book, shopping, watching my favorite television show - not fascinating because I'd rather be with my family. True love. This crazy attachment has left me dumbfounded on how to service my needs without mommy guilt or fully taken advantage of others help.
I learned to toughen up.
Eventually, your nips toughen up and you don't wake up and wonder what your soaked in head to toe. You get handle on your emotions and day to day life with a child in tow. Then, you get slapped in the face with judgmental strangers, family, and friends. Everyone is a child rearing expert. Some will call out tips and what you should be doing from across the street, as your packing up your car. Others are single or married but childless and they are the worst. They have no sympathy and they have all their philosophies thought out as they have watched every documentary on Netflix. Maybe their intentions are honorable, just maybe. So, I learned to nod along and toughen up my mothering with a little backbone. One that sticks to it's guns on how I'm doing what I feel is best for my child. I too was this kind of childless judge-y friend or stranger and I don't think you fully understand until you become a parent yourself. Once you grow a human and start raising a human, you realize it takes a village not a philosophy to rear a child. Instead of judging step in a help a mother out, am I right.
...to be continued.
Photos by Ashley Magitz Photography and Amy Rae Photography
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